Saving Room for Dessert

by K. C. Constantine

  “Hornyak and his wife, Mary, Joseph Buczyk and his wife, Susan, Mrs. Marie Tomko, the lady across Jefferson from the Hornyaks who called in the original complaint, uh, the Jednaks, who live across from the Buczyks, as you know, were not home. The Hlebecs, who live behind the Hornyaks, also claim they were not home. Forget the Scavellis for the time bein’, uh, the residents of 212 Jefferson, the Halupas, say they saw the first shot but, uh, ran inside and heard the second shot but did not see it. No point goin’ over each name, but up and down both sides of the 200 block of Jefferson Street, they’re all either deaf, blind, stupid, certifiably nuts—or they all ran inside after the first shot.”

  “Or they were all’,” Nowicki said.

  “And of course, as you know, Hornyak is sayin’ it didn’t happen the way you say.”

  “Which puts us in the middle of he-said he-said,” Nowicki said.

  “Well, what? Is the lady across the street, that, uh, Mrs. Tomko, what’s she sayin’ now—there was nothin’ goin’ on before I arrived? That made her call?”

  “No, not at all. She’s on the dispatcher call tape, she couldn’t deny that even if she wanted to.”

  “Well it’s good she’s not.”

  “No no, she still says there was a beef between the two of them, she hasn’t retracted any of that, and she still thought it was gonna get violent, and that’s why she called. But just like the Halupas—and all the rest of them—she says the first shot, it scared the hell out of her, she backed away from the window, she heard the second one, but she definitely did not see it.”

  “Didn’t even see the flash?”

  “She says no,” Carlucci said, shrugging. “And believe me, Patrolman, I’ve been up and down that street, and halfway into the 300 block even. Talked to anybody who might’ve had a clear field of vision there. So’d the chief here. We cannot find one other person who witnessed the second shot, or is willing to say so if they did.”

  “Great,” said Rayford. “Fucking great.”

  Nowicki tapped Carlucci on the shoulder and motioned for him to turn the recorder off. Carlucci shrugged and turned it off.

  “Hey, William, try to watch your language, okay?” Nowicki said. “That’s not what we wanna hear when we play it for the board, you know? Back it up and erase it, Rugs.”

  “Hey, you wanna erase it, you erase it, I’m not erasin’ anything. Somebody gets a hair up their ass, they bring a tape expert in and he finds out part of it’s been erased, they’ll have all our asses. Hey, leave it in, so he swore, so what? If I told you what I just told him, you wouldn’t be swearin’? Better believe I would.”

  “Hey, Rugs, you keep forgettin’—why, I don’t know but you do. Remember? Mrs. Remaley? That woman does not like swearin’. Why you keep forgettin’ that, I don’t know, but—”

  “I’m not forgettin’ anything about her. She’s the idiot asked me why the man wouldn’t obey the officer’s order to get on the ground. And was it really necessary for the officer to fire his weapon. I told her that’s the purpose of this inquiry, ma’am, okay? She’s the pinhead we have to convince. Why you keep thinkin’ I can’t remember her, I don’t know, but believe me, I remember her.”

  “You’re sure that thing’s turned off, right? ’Cause I don’t know what’s worse, ‘fucking’ or ‘idiot’ or ‘pinhead.’”

  “Let’s just move on here, okay? I’m turnin’ it back on now. Everybody ready? Here we go.”

  “Wait wait. William, indulge me. Watch your language, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hey, everybody, I’m turnin’ it on, okay?”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “So, uh, Officer Rayford. Once more, in detail, as much as you can remember, tell what happened Friday, April 16th, 1999, at approximately between 1910 and 1930 hours.”

  “You want me tell it the way I wrote it up in my UIR?”

  “No no no,” Nowicki said, “don’t tell it like you’re fillin’ out a form. Just talk it through, that’s all.”

  “Okay. I got the call—but without referrin’ to the UIR, I can’t remember the exact time. I think it was 1910 hours, but don’t hold me to that, it might’ve been later.”

  “Okay. Go ’head.”

  “Okay. I just finished writin’ up a UIR on the Scavellis and the Hlebecs when I got the call. I was driving Rocksburg PD MU 31, and I approached 214 Jefferson Street from Miles Avenue. I was comin’ from the west. I parked across the street, on the north side, and I approached two men engaged in a verbal dispute on the sidewalk between the houses, uh, that’s between 216 and 214. I knew them both from previous responses to the same address. Joseph Buczyk and Peter Hornyak. Uh, Mr. Hornyak lives at 214 Jefferson, Mr. Buczyk at 216 Jefferson.”

  “Was either man armed—as far as you could tell?”

  “Not as far as I could tell. I stopped walkin’ about, uh, approximately three steps from the sidewalk, which, according to PD policy, is sufficient reaction distance.”

  “Where were they standing, approximately?”

  “They were halfway between their houses. Looked to me like they were both makin’ sure they were on their side of the property line.”

  “Which is imaginary of course,” Nowicki said.

  “Of course. There’s no line there.”

  “No fence separating the properties, right?”

  “Correct. No fence.”

  “What’s between the houses?”

  “Just grass.”

  “Could you see the grass in that light?”

  “In that light? I don’t recall. But I knew it was there. Saw it every other time I responded to that address.”

  “And these are typical city lots, right? Neither one is a double lot? And there’s no vacant lot between ’em, is that correct?”

  “That’s correct. Typical city lots. Forty feet wide. Houses are twenty-six feet wide. Fourteen feet between ’em. Now 216 Jefferson, that’s a corner lot. Forty-eight feet wide.”

  “But where the incident took place is between and in front of 216 and 214, correct?”

  “Right. Correct. Between them. But not where I shot him, no.”

  “Where was that?” Nowicki said.

  “After Mr. Hornyak kicked Mr, Buczyk, Mr. Hornyak ran backwards to the other side of his house.”

  “Okay, wait a second here,” Carlucci said. “Back up. Before we get to that, go back to where you stopped in the street. Then what?”

  “I asked them what the problem was. They never answered me. Never said what started that beef—that dispute at that time. Soon as I asked, they both started accusin’ each other of startin’ it. Especially Mr. Hornyak. And he was really upset with me because Mr. Buczyk was out on property bond for a previous dispute between them, which occurred, uh, two weeks before, on, uh, April 2nd, I believe.”

  “Before you go on, what did you have in your hands at that point? Had you drawn your service pistol at that time?”

  “No. All I had was my MagLite. Had it in my left hand. I don’t think I’d even turned it on yet. But I didn’t draw my pistol until, uh, later.”

  “Okay. So go ’head.”

  “Well, Mr. Hornyak was really, uh, angry because I’d arrested Mr. Buczyk for assault and aggravated assault—I’d have to refer to my UIR of that incident to recall the exact charges, but the point is, Mr. Hornyak was seriously angry at me because he thought Mr. Buczyk should still be incarcerated for those offenses. He didn’t understand why he was allowed to be home, when, as he put it, I’d told him I’d arrested Mr. Buczyk for a felony.”.

  “Had you told him that?”

  “I might have, I don’t remember. Probably I did, but it doesn’t stand out in my mind what I said or didn’t say at that time. Didn’t matter anyway, ’cause it wasn’t up to me what Mr, Buczyk’s bond status was. I tried to tell Mr. Hornyak that. So did Mr. Buczyk. But that just made him madder. Mr. Hornyak. Then they started in about who did what kinda research where and who thought he knew everything, I mean, it was just
two so-called adults woofin’ at each other like a coupla kids. I couldn’t make sense with either one of them.”

  “What time was it? Approximately. And what was the light?”

  “Not sure about the time. Mercury light on the corner in front of Mr. Buczyk’s house hadn’t come on yet. But there’s two big maple trees in front of his house, so maybe I just didn’t see it if it was on. But I’m sure by that time—no, I didn’t turn on my MagLite till I saw somethin’ movin’ between the houses. I saw Nick Scavelli’s face—well I didn’t know it was him until I—wait a second, I’m wrong. Boo showed up before that—before I saw Mr. Scavelli. Patrolman Robert Canoza showed up to back me up, and he parked front-to-front with my MU across the street. He got out, he came toward me, asked me what was up, and that’s when I saw Mr. Scavelli’s face. So I had to turn my flash on, and I remember runnin’ around—out in the street around Mr. Buczyk’s minivan, his Plymouth. And uh, I, uh, shined my light on Mr. Scavelli and then I heard his wife sayin’ something, and I shined it on her so I knew she was there too.”

  “Why’re you sayin’ it that way? You knew she was there too. She had to be mere if you shined your flash on her.”

  “No, I know that sounds stupid, but I, uh, I already had one incident with them. Earlier. Mostly with him, Mr. Scavelli. Nothin’ with her. And the Hlebecs. Uh, who live next door to him on Franklin Street. In fact, as I said before, I’d just finished fillin’ out the UIR on that incident when I got called to respond to 214 Jefferson. And I’ve had way way too much, uh, well … I have myelf taken Mr. Scavelli to Mental Health three times in the past five and a half, six years. They keep him for the max permissible, uh, thirty days, and then he comes out, stays cool for a while, and then he, uh, he goes trippin’ off to wherever he goes trippin’ off to.”

  “This incident with Mr. Scavelli and Mr. Hlebec, would you describe that briefly? It’s been reported by numerous witnesses you drew your service pistol and pointed it at both of them at various times, is that correct?”

  “Correct. Yes. And I warned them that if they didn’t shut up and get back in their residence, I would arrest them all. Well, I was drivin’ by Mr. Scavelli’s house. I’d just responded to an incident there the night before, April 15th. These people, I mean, the Scavellis and the Hlebecs, they been neighbors for twenty years, maybe longer, and this guy, Mr. Scavelli, he just goes off, starts harassin’ ’em. Not just them, everybody on that block. But he’s got it in for the Hlebecs ’cause he thinks it’s their dog that craps in his yard.

  “Comes outta his house with a hair-dryer, blow-dryer, sits in his truck, points it at cars goin’ by, then he writes ’em up in his notebooks, wants me to arrest ’em. Points it at people walkin’, does the same stuff, wants me to arrest them. And he does this kinda stuff to the Hlebecs couple times a week. Most of the time they ignore him, but April 15th, somebody smeared dog crap all over their doorknobs, and they accused him. So I thought I was gonna have to arrest ’em all that night, but finally I got ’em all cooled out, no arrests, no citations, got ’em back inside their houses, and then, April 16th, I’m drivin’ by, routine patrol, and I see Mr. Scavelli with a shovel headin’ for the Hlebecs’ front porch. So I stopped him.

  “And then Mr. Hlebec came home and they started in on one another. Then Mrs. Hlebec came home, and the only way I could get ’em cooled out and inside was to draw my piece and threaten ’em all with arrest. So apparently a lotta people came outta their houses and called the station, said I was wavin’ my piece around. Which I wasn’t doin’. I was in control, I knew what I was doin’, I knew what I was sayin’, but it was very, uh, frustrating, you know? Tryin’ to get so-called grown-ups to quit actin’ like kids. And Mr. Scavelli, he’s done this sorta thing with every member of the department at one time or another, well, maybe not every member, I haven’t taken a poll or anything. But the man’s famous for this kinda stuff. Am I exaggeratin’ this? You two been in this department way longer’n I have, am I exaggeratin’ any of this?”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned,” Nowicki said. “I went to that address many times myself. Took him to Mental Health once, had to testify at his competency hearing.”

  “I never took him to Mental Health,” Carlucci said, “but I went to their address when I was a patrolman and they lived up on the hill, in Norwood. At least twice. You’re not exaggeratin’, not from my experience. So, uh, you saw him. On the 16th I’m talkin’ about now? Correct? You turned your flash on ’em, you knew they were both there, then what?”

  “Then, the next thing I know, Boo, Patrolman Canoza, he’s standin’ next to me—but first I confronted them. I went between the houses and told ’em get outta there, go home. Then Canoza’s there.”

  “And?”

  ”And I said what’re you doin’ here? To Canoza. Who’s watchin’ them? Meanin’ Mr. Hornyak and Mr. Buczyk. And he said somethin’ about they weren’t doin’ anything, and I turned around and went hustlin’ back out to the sidewalk where they were. And just as I get there, Mr. Hornyak is kickin’ Mr. Buczyk in the leg. The right one. And then he kicked him in the other leg.”

  “Which leg was he kickin’ with?”

  “His right one. And Mr. Buczyk goes down, and I jumped over him and swung my MagLite with both hands and, uh, I hit Mr. Hornyak in the left shoulder, not sure exactly where.”

  “Thought last time you said he went runnin’ backwards to the other side of his house.”

  “Yeah. He did. And I was right after him. That’s when I hit him.”

  “So he’s now between his house and the Buczyks’ house—is that what you’re sayin’? Between 214 and 212?”

  “Yeah. Correct.”

  “And what happened then?”

  “I was tellin’ him get down, get on the ground, and he was just hoppin’ around, holdin’ his shoulder, cussin’ me out, sayin’I broke his shoulder, or collarbone. And then I heard Boo scream, Patrolman Canoza, and I’m tellin’ Mr. Hornyak to get on the ground, and he’s still hoppin’ around, shufflin’ around in, like, uh, half-circles, and the next thing I see, uh, I see Patrolman Canoza, he’s carryin’ Mrs. Scavelli over his shoulder to his MU.”

  “How’s he carryin’ her? Describe it exactly as you remember it.”

  “Uh, he’s got his arm, his right arm around her knees and she’s kinda slung over his right shoulder.”

  “Was she moving?”

  “No. She … I’m not sure. She looked kinda limp.”

  “Was she saying anything?”

  “No. Definitely no. She was not sayin’ anything.”

  “But you’re not sure whether she was movin’, huh?”

  “No. I mean her arms were movin’, but I think that was from how Patrolman Canoza, was, uh, well, he was sorta staggerin’, and her arms were, uh, they were sorta swingin’. Limp.”

  “And then what?”

  “Well you gotta remember I was tryin’ to watch him and watch those other two, so my head was goin’ back and forth real fast, and then I see Patrolman Canoza set her down on the trunk of his MU, and she falls back and I hear her head hit the trunk, you know, with this hollow kinda whump noise. And that’s when I see this thing stickin’ outta his, uh, like right below his neck and to the right a little bit. Had this kinda greenish handle, but it was in a, uh, a goofy angle.”

  “Goofy how?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it exactly—I mean I didn’t see it till later when I was holdin’ him, but then was when I stuck my flash under my right armpit—no no, before that I’d drawn my piece. Oh wait a second, no—shit, before that I already fired the first shot I think. See this happened so fast I’m almost … it’s like it was all hap-penin’ together.”

  “Take your time, take your time, we ain’t goin’ anyplace here,” Carlucci said. “I know it happened fast. Try to break it down, close your eyes, visualize it in slow motion if you can.”

  “Yeah. Well. I don’t know if I can do that,” Rayford said, closing his eyes, licking his lips
, inhaling deeply, and sighing. “Okay. Lemme try. I had my piece in my right hand. Had my light in my left. Hornyak was back on the grass between his house and 212. He wouldn’t get down. I kept shoutin’ at him get down, get down. He just kept cussin’ me. He was holdin’ his shoulder. His left shoulder. And it looked to me like he was comin’ closer. So I fired. Fired into the grass. On purpose. Missed him by a foot to the left of his right knee. He called me a nigger bastard. Right then, that’s when I heard Boo scream, and I started shoutin’ at him, you know, Boo, what happened, what happened, say somethin’, and then he came out from between 216 and 214 with her over his shoulder, Mrs. Scavelli. Over his right shoulder he had her. No. His left.

  “And after he set her down on his trunk, and I saw the thing stickin’ in the top of his back, that’s when I put my flash under my right armpit to turn on my radio and call 10–47, officer needs assistance, officer down, I don’t remember what I said exactly—”

  “You said all of that,” Nowicki said. “It’s on the tape.”

  “Yeah. Well when I was doin’ that, and my flash was under my right armpit, I lost sight of Mr. Hornyak. I mean my flash, the beam was kinda goin’ off to the left, and by this time it was dark and for just a split second there, I didn’t know for sure where he was. So when I got the flash in my left hand again, it looked to me like he was way closer to me. And he was definitely movin’ toward me. So I didn’t hesitate. I fired. Leveled on his knee and fired.”

  “Then what?”

  “Uh, well, he started hoppin’ on his other leg, he was screamin’, he was hoppin’ backwards, and, uh, then he fell back, straight down on his, uh, his butt, his tailbone. His head bounced.”

  “He says it didn’t happen that way.”

  “Hey. He can say whatever he wants. That’s the way I remember it.”

  “He’s sayin’ you never told him to get on the ground—”

  “Oh that’s bullshit. And I don’t care whether the people goin’ hear this tape like swearin’ or not. There’s only one word for him sayin’ that, and that’s bullshit. I told him get down six, eight times at least. Told him get on the ground. Fired that warnin’ shot. Told him he didn’t get down I was goin’ put the next one in his knee. There’s maybe nobody saw me fire that second one, but Buczyk was there. He heard me. He had to hear me. I know he heard me, ’cause he wasn’t layin’ three, four, five steps at the most away from me—and I was yellin’. So what’s he sayin’, Buczyk? He sayin’ I didn’t tell Hornyak get down? And those other people, the ones ran inside after the first shot, they sayin’ they didn’t hear me yellin’ get down? Before the first shot? Or before the second one? I ain’t buyin’ that, no way.”