the
two officers and smash Ms. Dupré’s head in. He looked like he would enjoy that
very much, and David believed he would. “She up on Beltway. I forget which
house, but it’s one o’ them where ya pay based on how much ya earn a month.”
“Public
housing,” David said, nodding as he jotted that down. There weren’t many other
kinds of houses or apartments around here. The Bluff was the pinnacle of
poverty in all of Georgia. “Got it. Descriptions of the girls?” Mac gave
approximations of their age and height, as well as what they were wearing. “Did
you see anything else? License plates on the vehicles? Special rims on the
tires maybe? Distinguishing marks on the men who did this?”
“I didn’t see
shit, Officer. ’Scuse me. By the time I got out here, they gone.” David went
to jot that down, and then Mac added, “They was this one muthafucka, though.
White boy. Drivin’ a pretty new black Tacoma.” David glanced up at this,
interested. White was unusual for the Bluff, especially this late at night,
and especially driving a new-looking truck. “He came in an’ bought a burger
an’ a Dr. Pepper from me, walked out about the same time all o’ this happened,
an’ then dipped when he found out I was callin’ the police.”
Mac had
pronounced it poh-leece . Internally, David was just grateful Mac didn’t
refer to the police as “po-pos,” at least not in his presence. “Description?”
he said.
“White,” he
said. “An’ I mean like white white, Officer. As in as pale as that
moon over yo head. I mean, not albino, but fuckin’ white, ya feel me?”
David nodded.
“What else?”
“Tall, thin.”
“How tall? How
thin?”
“ ’Bout six-one,
six-two, an’ maybe one seventy-five. Nazi poster boy, ’cept fo his black hair.
Blue eyes an’ tall an’ German-lookin’. Ya feel me?”
Again, David
nodded. “Clothing?”
“Blue jeans.
Brown shoes. Converse, I think. He wearin’ a black hoodie. Pulled it up over
his head befo he left.”
“He say anything
to you before he left?”
“Yeah, a whole
lotta shit. Talkin’ this an’ that. He ran his mouth a lot. Talkin’ about my
name, how big I am, an’ tol’ me I oughtta buy a new jersey because Michael
Vick’s a dog-fightin’ fool. I pretty much tol’ him to kiss my ass an’ he
left. When I came out, I started to call 911, an’ he got the fuck outta here
like his head was on fire an’ his ass was catchin’. Ya feel me?”
Once more, David
nodded. “And you said that the only other witnesses were some guys who bolted,
and a couple across the street that walked away a few minutes after all this
happened?”
“Yeah, word. I
don’t know who the fuck they was, but the four bitches who cut an’ ran were
some fools I know from Vine, near MARTA.”
He meant Vine
City’s MARTA station, which meant David wasn’t likely to find or get much out
of those four black youths tonight. That area held nothing but people who were
supremely mistrustful of the police, slamming doors anytime the word “warrant”
wasn’t specifically uttered. A land of people who’d gotten to know the Atlanta
Police Department so well that, despite sky high on meth and H all the time, most
of them could quote civil rights laws back to the officers who appeared
warrantless at their doorstep. It was ranked as the number one most dangerous
neighborhood in Atlanta, and number five in the entire United States. David
had only been working Atlanta for a year, had never gone to that area once, and
didn’t know many cops who did. That’s how he knew it was a lost cause looking
for those witnesses.
Which means
probably a lost cause for those girls . He didn’t like to admit it, but
history was history, and facts were facts.
David sighed,
and closed his book. “All right, I think we’ve got your full statement. A
detective will probably be around in a
two officers and smash Ms. Dupré’s head in. He looked like he would enjoy that
very much, and David believed he would. “She up on Beltway. I forget which
house, but it’s one o’ them where ya pay based on how much ya earn a month.”
“Public
housing,” David said, nodding as he jotted that down. There weren’t many other
kinds of houses or apartments around here. The Bluff was the pinnacle of
poverty in all of Georgia. “Got it. Descriptions of the girls?” Mac gave
approximations of their age and height, as well as what they were wearing. “Did
you see anything else? License plates on the vehicles? Special rims on the
tires maybe? Distinguishing marks on the men who did this?”
“I didn’t see
shit, Officer. ’Scuse me. By the time I got out here, they gone.” David went
to jot that down, and then Mac added, “They was this one muthafucka, though.
White boy. Drivin’ a pretty new black Tacoma.” David glanced up at this,
interested. White was unusual for the Bluff, especially this late at night,
and especially driving a new-looking truck. “He came in an’ bought a burger
an’ a Dr. Pepper from me, walked out about the same time all o’ this happened,
an’ then dipped when he found out I was callin’ the police.”
Mac had
pronounced it poh-leece . Internally, David was just grateful Mac didn’t
refer to the police as “po-pos,” at least not in his presence. “Description?”
he said.
“White,” he
said. “An’ I mean like white white, Officer. As in as pale as that
moon over yo head. I mean, not albino, but fuckin’ white, ya feel me?”
David nodded.
“What else?”
“Tall, thin.”
“How tall? How
thin?”
“ ’Bout six-one,
six-two, an’ maybe one seventy-five. Nazi poster boy, ’cept fo his black hair.
Blue eyes an’ tall an’ German-lookin’. Ya feel me?”
Again, David
nodded. “Clothing?”
“Blue jeans.
Brown shoes. Converse, I think. He wearin’ a black hoodie. Pulled it up over
his head befo he left.”
“He say anything
to you before he left?”
“Yeah, a whole
lotta shit. Talkin’ this an’ that. He ran his mouth a lot. Talkin’ about my
name, how big I am, an’ tol’ me I oughtta buy a new jersey because Michael
Vick’s a dog-fightin’ fool. I pretty much tol’ him to kiss my ass an’ he
left. When I came out, I started to call 911, an’ he got the fuck outta here
like his head was on fire an’ his ass was catchin’. Ya feel me?”
Once more, David
nodded. “And you said that the only other witnesses were some guys who bolted,
and a couple across the street that walked away a few minutes after all this
happened?”
“Yeah, word. I
don’t know who the fuck they was, but the four bitches who cut an’ ran were
some fools I know from Vine, near MARTA.”
He meant Vine
City’s MARTA station, which meant David wasn’t likely to find or get much out
of those four black youths tonight. That area held nothing but people who were
supremely mistrustful of the police, slamming doors anytime the word “warrant”
wasn’t specifically uttered. A land of people who’d gotten to know the Atlanta
Police Department so well that, despite sky high on meth and H all the time, most
of them could quote civil rights laws back to the officers who appeared
warrantless at their doorstep. It was ranked as the number one most dangerous
neighborhood in Atlanta, and number five in the entire United States. David
had only been working Atlanta for a year, had never gone to that area once, and
didn’t know many cops who did. That’s how he knew it was a lost cause looking
for those witnesses.
Which means
probably a lost cause for those girls . He didn’t like to admit it, but
history was history, and facts were facts.
David sighed,
and closed his book. “All right, I think we’ve got your full statement. A
detective will probably be around in a
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