"Richard!"
The officer yells while traversing the street from his cruiser without lights flashing on April 6, 2012: a temperate Friday night at midnight in front of a three-story, apartment house across railroad tracks to downtown where a national politician is visiting the city for a campaign fundraiser.
The fundraiser causes sidewalk crowds and traffic snarls throughout the city and what Richard thinks is pandemonium when driving his mother as a passenger in her car earlier on the evening in question in front of the downtown venue for the fundraiser.
Richard does not answer the approaching officer, but he leans over and places the five beers left in a six pack carton on the front walk to where he lives. He holds a cigarette pack and lighter in his right hand.
"Drop the cigarettes!"
The approached officer states to drop the cigarettes loudly while on the sidewalk in front of Richard as a floodlight fixture on the front porch of the house illumines the officer at the head of Richard's shadow amidst flashing red and blue lights of other police vehicles arrived on scene.
Richard chucks the cigarette pack and lighter with a switch of his right hand wrist towards where he had put down the five beers in a six pack carton, which is close to the toes of the approached officer's black, polished boots reflecting a dull sheen from the floodlights behind Richard.
The commanding officer follows (with his eyes and moving his head) the arc of the chucked cigarette pack and lighter towards his feet next to the six pack carton that has five beers in it.
Four other officers in uniform wearing black gloves surround Richard to the right and to the left of the front walk where Richard stands facing the interrogating officer who commands Richard from the sidewalk.
Richard’s small dog barks incessantly at the different officers standing on the lawns to the right and left of the front walk where the dog and other dogs relieve themselves everyday.
“I want to see your license.”
Richard reaches into his left pocket and hands the officer on the sidewalk his license.
The officer radios the license number into his shoulder walkie-talkie.
“I will ask for a life sentence,” Richard states emphatically to the interrogating officer on the sidewalk.
“What do you mean? I just came up here and you started talking about sentences …”
The officer awaits the callback from the dispatcher.
“The judge. I mean, the judge … I will ask for the death sentence … in Texas!”
Richard states as much further to the interrogating officer while glimpsing to his right at one of the officers with black gloves who stands near a dog shit pile on the lawn in beams of floodlight from the front porch.
“How about in this state!?” the officer in question standing on the lawn near a dog shit pile states rhetorically.
“Ha! Ha! In this state …!?” Richard retorts.
“Call your dog!” an officer yells from in front of Richard’s vehicle backed into a dimly lit driveway at the side of the house and lawn about ten paces to the right of where Richard stands on the front walk.
“Toodles! Toodles! Come here Toodles! … Well, there’s nothing I can do about that,” Richard continues turning again to the interrogating officer on the sidewalk.
“All right,” the interrogating officer on the sidewalk continues. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
“Well, you see the six pack … there is one beer missing … that means I had one beer. A shift beer!”
“Where did you go?”
“I went to 7-11 then to the dog park.”
“Then, where did you go?”
“I didn’t go anywhere. I came straight back here.”
The interrogating officer glances from his note pad and looks west or to his left facing Richard on the front walk. The officer realizes that Richard had taken the back way home along side streets while the police had looked for him moments earlier on the main arteries through town from the dog park.
The interrogating officer pivots north facing Richard on the front walk.
“Alright. If you say another word, I am taking you down.”
Richard had called a man “fat” at the dog park while drinking the one beer. The man had apparently called the police and Richard had known it by the way the man had left suddenly after taking offense, spotting the beer and idling his van in the dog park lot while Richard could see through the fat man’s driver side window that the man was on the phone to none other guessed: but, 9-11.
Richard visibly bites down on his tongue with tongue tip sticking out of his mouth, lips snarled and to make apparent to the officer that he is not saying another word.
“Alright! I want you to take a couple of steps forward and stand in front of me … If you don’t follow my instructions, I will be taking you down. Do you understand? … I think that it is best if you either nod your head yes or shake for no.”
Richard nods.
“Stand with your feet heel to heel at an angle … like this … and put your palms out to your sides … like this …”
Toodles sits at the feet of one of the officers standing on the lawn and does not bark.
“Follow this light with your eyes right to left, left to right and don’t move your head!”
Traces of the officer’s flashlight illumine a haggard, almost forty year old face with venal eyes which does not move its head during the exercise: but, with eyes ... does follow the trace of light frequencies from the officer’s flashlight from left to right, and, right to left.
The small, eye-piercing flashlight is flicked off with the thumb of the interrogating officer on the sidewalk in front of the apartment house where Richard lives and lights flood the front walk behind Richard.
“Alright! Step back, grab your beer and cigarettes and go inside. Don’t come out until tomorrow. But first: give me your key! … I’ll put it somewhere in your truck.”
Richard reaches to his key chain on an extendable cord hanging from a belt hoop to his jeans. He unwinds a vehicle key from the ring and hands it to the officer who ventures across the dog shit pile lawn to the vehicle in the driveway.
Richard then leans over to pick up his six pack carton of beer and cigarettes amidst dispersing officers who were standing on the lawns. He dashes up the five steps to the front door calling "Toodles" to follow and who follows.
An oriental looking officer also follows Richard up the steps to return the license while Richard has a key in the front door.
"You forgot your license."
"You can keep that," Richard retorts not extending his hand from the key slot.
"Take it!"
Richard reaches to the oriental looking officer in the darkness of the floodlights having shut off on the front porch due to dispersing bodies on the lawns and he grips the license edge extended towards him.
"Now, get in there," the officer returning the license barks at him and Richard drinks five beers awaking for another day to bask in his mother's radiance as she cleans his apartment all weekend visiting from out of town.
The fundraiser causes sidewalk crowds and traffic snarls throughout the city and what Richard thinks is pandemonium when driving his mother as a passenger in her car earlier on the evening in question in front of the downtown venue for the fundraiser.
Richard does not answer the approaching officer, but he leans over and places the five beers left in a six pack carton on the front walk to where he lives. He holds a cigarette pack and lighter in his right hand.
"Drop the cigarettes!"
The approached officer states to drop the cigarettes loudly while on the sidewalk in front of Richard as a floodlight fixture on the front porch of the house illumines the officer at the head of Richard's shadow amidst flashing red and blue lights of other police vehicles arrived on scene.
Richard chucks the cigarette pack and lighter with a switch of his right hand wrist towards where he had put down the five beers in a six pack carton, which is close to the toes of the approached officer's black, polished boots reflecting a dull sheen from the floodlights behind Richard.
The commanding officer follows (with his eyes and moving his head) the arc of the chucked cigarette pack and lighter towards his feet next to the six pack carton that has five beers in it.
Four other officers in uniform wearing black gloves surround Richard to the right and to the left of the front walk where Richard stands facing the interrogating officer who commands Richard from the sidewalk.
Richard’s small dog barks incessantly at the different officers standing on the lawns to the right and left of the front walk where the dog and other dogs relieve themselves everyday.
“I want to see your license.”
Richard reaches into his left pocket and hands the officer on the sidewalk his license.
The officer radios the license number into his shoulder walkie-talkie.
“I will ask for a life sentence,” Richard states emphatically to the interrogating officer on the sidewalk.
“What do you mean? I just came up here and you started talking about sentences …”
The officer awaits the callback from the dispatcher.
“The judge. I mean, the judge … I will ask for the death sentence … in Texas!”
Richard states as much further to the interrogating officer while glimpsing to his right at one of the officers with black gloves who stands near a dog shit pile on the lawn in beams of floodlight from the front porch.
“How about in this state!?” the officer in question standing on the lawn near a dog shit pile states rhetorically.
“Ha! Ha! In this state …!?” Richard retorts.
“Call your dog!” an officer yells from in front of Richard’s vehicle backed into a dimly lit driveway at the side of the house and lawn about ten paces to the right of where Richard stands on the front walk.
“Toodles! Toodles! Come here Toodles! … Well, there’s nothing I can do about that,” Richard continues turning again to the interrogating officer on the sidewalk.
“All right,” the interrogating officer on the sidewalk continues. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
“Well, you see the six pack … there is one beer missing … that means I had one beer. A shift beer!”
“Where did you go?”
“I went to 7-11 then to the dog park.”
“Then, where did you go?”
“I didn’t go anywhere. I came straight back here.”
The interrogating officer glances from his note pad and looks west or to his left facing Richard on the front walk. The officer realizes that Richard had taken the back way home along side streets while the police had looked for him moments earlier on the main arteries through town from the dog park.
The interrogating officer pivots north facing Richard on the front walk.
“Alright. If you say another word, I am taking you down.”
Richard had called a man “fat” at the dog park while drinking the one beer. The man had apparently called the police and Richard had known it by the way the man had left suddenly after taking offense, spotting the beer and idling his van in the dog park lot while Richard could see through the fat man’s driver side window that the man was on the phone to none other guessed: but, 9-11.
Richard visibly bites down on his tongue with tongue tip sticking out of his mouth, lips snarled and to make apparent to the officer that he is not saying another word.
“Alright! I want you to take a couple of steps forward and stand in front of me … If you don’t follow my instructions, I will be taking you down. Do you understand? … I think that it is best if you either nod your head yes or shake for no.”
Richard nods.
“Stand with your feet heel to heel at an angle … like this … and put your palms out to your sides … like this …”
Toodles sits at the feet of one of the officers standing on the lawn and does not bark.
“Follow this light with your eyes right to left, left to right and don’t move your head!”
Traces of the officer’s flashlight illumine a haggard, almost forty year old face with venal eyes which does not move its head during the exercise: but, with eyes ... does follow the trace of light frequencies from the officer’s flashlight from left to right, and, right to left.
The small, eye-piercing flashlight is flicked off with the thumb of the interrogating officer on the sidewalk in front of the apartment house where Richard lives and lights flood the front walk behind Richard.
“Alright! Step back, grab your beer and cigarettes and go inside. Don’t come out until tomorrow. But first: give me your key! … I’ll put it somewhere in your truck.”
Richard reaches to his key chain on an extendable cord hanging from a belt hoop to his jeans. He unwinds a vehicle key from the ring and hands it to the officer who ventures across the dog shit pile lawn to the vehicle in the driveway.
Richard then leans over to pick up his six pack carton of beer and cigarettes amidst dispersing officers who were standing on the lawns. He dashes up the five steps to the front door calling "Toodles" to follow and who follows.
An oriental looking officer also follows Richard up the steps to return the license while Richard has a key in the front door.
"You forgot your license."
"You can keep that," Richard retorts not extending his hand from the key slot.
"Take it!"
Richard reaches to the oriental looking officer in the darkness of the floodlights having shut off on the front porch due to dispersing bodies on the lawns and he grips the license edge extended towards him.
"Now, get in there," the officer returning the license barks at him and Richard drinks five beers awaking for another day to bask in his mother's radiance as she cleans his apartment all weekend visiting from out of town.
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