scattered. Rodney put it back under his shirt like nothing had happened and asked if I was OK. And from that moment on I did anything Rodney wanted. I don’t like to think about that time, and I really don’t want to talk about it, but I will say that I almost ended up in Rodney’s gang. I got arrested only the one time. For assault. That was initiation into the gang - you had to assault a rival gang member.
The guy I assaulted almost died. I hit him over the head with a steel bar from behind and when he fell on the ground I kicked him in the head three times. He started seizing. He hadn’t said a word or made a noise. He probably never even knew what happened. I remember standing over him and thinking he was going to die and never feeling so helpless in all my life. Rodney had sent me out to do it myself. I was supposed to jump the guy and beat him and once he was unconscious or dead I was supposed to run. But I didn’t run. I stayed, even when I heard the sirens. When his eyes rolled back in his head I sat down on the ground and rocked him and screamed I was sorry, like my apology would make him stop shaking. I remember thinking I should stick something in his mouth so he wouldn’t swallow his tongue and then thinking no I shouldn’t because that was stupid and just wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole, even if it meant I was going to hell. I told God or the devil, whichever one would do it, to take my life and give it to that kid.”
Jerry almost whispered the last sentence. He’d never told anyone this story. In fact, when his sentencing was over he purposely never even thought about it again. Thinking about it hurt. Speaking it out loud, he was discovering, was agony. He saw Emma try to stand up, try to come to him. Craig took her hand and pulled her gently back. Good. He didn’t want to be comforted right now. He wasn’t done.
“So when the cops got there they put me in handcuffs. I watched the Paramedics take care of the kid. I still felt like I wanted to die, but I also remember thinking that I wanted to be one of those ambulance guys. They came in and fixed whatever could be fixed. They were heroes. I decided right there, that if my life were to go on, I’d have to be a hero, not a villain.”
Emma nodded as Jerry talked. That part made total sense to her.
“The cops processed me and then took me to a juvenile holding facility. Basically a jail for boys. I had to tell them about my dad so someone would go take care of him. They put him in a state facility that night. Kind of a jail for old people, except he wasn’t old.
I didn’t have anyone to call and I didn’t have anywhere to go, and so I stayed right in Straw Blossom - is that a stupid fucking name for a juvenile detention center or what? - for a month, until my sentencing. I was terrified. The word in the facility was assault as a gang member or initiation into a gang was the hot new crime to crack down on. The other boys were telling me that it almost always got charged as an adult, and it usually carried a 2 year minimum sentence. One red-headed boy nicknamed Rock who had Tourettes’s syndrome told me his brother had gotten 15 years, no chance of parole, for assault that ended up with the victim dying 2 weeks later. And his brother was only 15. I didn’t know if I should believe any of it, but I did.
On the date of my sentencing I remember walking into the courtroom and feeling horrified because my father was sitting there in a wheelchair. My counselor in Suck Bottom - that’s what me and the other kids used to call it, we couldn’t bring ourselves to say Straw Blossom - had contacted the home he was in and arranged for him to be brought to the sentencing.
So I walk in, handcuffed and in an orange suit with SB on the front, and my dad is sitting in a wheelchair right next to my counselor. I hadn’t seen him since I left the house a month before to go walking. He looked right at me, and he almost looked like he knew
The guy I assaulted almost died. I hit him over the head with a steel bar from behind and when he fell on the ground I kicked him in the head three times. He started seizing. He hadn’t said a word or made a noise. He probably never even knew what happened. I remember standing over him and thinking he was going to die and never feeling so helpless in all my life. Rodney had sent me out to do it myself. I was supposed to jump the guy and beat him and once he was unconscious or dead I was supposed to run. But I didn’t run. I stayed, even when I heard the sirens. When his eyes rolled back in his head I sat down on the ground and rocked him and screamed I was sorry, like my apology would make him stop shaking. I remember thinking I should stick something in his mouth so he wouldn’t swallow his tongue and then thinking no I shouldn’t because that was stupid and just wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole, even if it meant I was going to hell. I told God or the devil, whichever one would do it, to take my life and give it to that kid.”
Jerry almost whispered the last sentence. He’d never told anyone this story. In fact, when his sentencing was over he purposely never even thought about it again. Thinking about it hurt. Speaking it out loud, he was discovering, was agony. He saw Emma try to stand up, try to come to him. Craig took her hand and pulled her gently back. Good. He didn’t want to be comforted right now. He wasn’t done.
“So when the cops got there they put me in handcuffs. I watched the Paramedics take care of the kid. I still felt like I wanted to die, but I also remember thinking that I wanted to be one of those ambulance guys. They came in and fixed whatever could be fixed. They were heroes. I decided right there, that if my life were to go on, I’d have to be a hero, not a villain.”
Emma nodded as Jerry talked. That part made total sense to her.
“The cops processed me and then took me to a juvenile holding facility. Basically a jail for boys. I had to tell them about my dad so someone would go take care of him. They put him in a state facility that night. Kind of a jail for old people, except he wasn’t old.
I didn’t have anyone to call and I didn’t have anywhere to go, and so I stayed right in Straw Blossom - is that a stupid fucking name for a juvenile detention center or what? - for a month, until my sentencing. I was terrified. The word in the facility was assault as a gang member or initiation into a gang was the hot new crime to crack down on. The other boys were telling me that it almost always got charged as an adult, and it usually carried a 2 year minimum sentence. One red-headed boy nicknamed Rock who had Tourettes’s syndrome told me his brother had gotten 15 years, no chance of parole, for assault that ended up with the victim dying 2 weeks later. And his brother was only 15. I didn’t know if I should believe any of it, but I did.
On the date of my sentencing I remember walking into the courtroom and feeling horrified because my father was sitting there in a wheelchair. My counselor in Suck Bottom - that’s what me and the other kids used to call it, we couldn’t bring ourselves to say Straw Blossom - had contacted the home he was in and arranged for him to be brought to the sentencing.
So I walk in, handcuffed and in an orange suit with SB on the front, and my dad is sitting in a wheelchair right next to my counselor. I hadn’t seen him since I left the house a month before to go walking. He looked right at me, and he almost looked like he knew
Similar Books
