…and then, the doorbell rang…
Time stopped for a few seconds, one or two; and as my sister headed toward the door, I said: “Don’t answer it!”; immediately followed by “I’m not here!”; but, as usual, she ignored me and answered the door… and my fears are justified when I hear Murray Gros (one of the Patterson cops) asks “Is Buzz here?”; and I am aghast to hear her reply “Yes…”! Well at this point I am resigned to my fate, and head on over to the door. When I get there, and ask as innocently as I can, “Yes?” Murray ask me “You don’t know why I’m here?”; well, I lied earlier when I said I was resigned to my fate; so I replied “No…”. Then he replied “Then you won’t mind coming down to the station with me?”. Like I had an option at that point… “No, no problem…”
As you may have noticed, I had decided to go for the “Innocent Until Proven Guilty” line of defense; I got into the back of the car, and as we drove away toward the station, after a few moments, Murray ask me “Where did you get the beer?”; and my immediate response was “What beer?”… then he asked me “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”, and I answered “No…”. At this point he probably figured out my plan, and the rest of the ride to the Police Station was quiet…
Once we had arrived at the Station, I was led into the dispatchers office, and sat down into a chair; and while I was waiting for the next phase of the inquisition to begin, I saw them leading Keith out of the Chief’s office into the front waiting area. I still remember my shock to see his appearance; for he was white as a ghost, and had a lost look in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe what was happening… but my long history at that point of being in trouble (though minor, compared to this…) allowed me to absorb the moment, and resolve to not allow myself to go there. One thing I had learned in my life up to that point was that there were only two options to pursue when you are in this type of situation; deny culpability until you realize that it is undeniable, or fess up immediately and ask for forgiveness. But if you pursue the latter option, you give up all hope of maybe escaping punishment, so I usually chose Option One!
So the Inquisition began; to my mild surprise, a State Trooper entered the office, and closed the door; and he pulled up a chair close to me, and took off his hat, and began asking me questions. He must have been practicing what he had been taught in the classes they go through for interrogating suspects; he kept his aviator sunglasses on (even though we were inside!) and began with the question “Where did you get the beer?”; But he was speaking in a low and menacing tone, so low that I wasn’t sure what he had asked… so I replied “what?”… so he asked me again, in a slightly louder voice, “Where did you get the beer?”. And my reply, again, was “What?”; exasperated at this point, he loudly asked me, “WHERE DID YOU GET THE BEER!?!”; to which I immediately responded, loudly, “WHAT BEER!?!”, which made him jump back away from me in surprise…
At this point, from somewhere in my memory, I recalled that my Dad had had a run-in with a State Trooper in the past, and had vowed that if he ever met up with him again, he was gonna whip his ass; and the name tag had a familiar ring to it; so before he had recovered from my yelling out “WHAT BEER!?!” at him, I launched into a diatribe against him; ” I know who you are, and so does my dad; and he’s gonna WHIP YOUR ASS!!!”. Now he’s on the defensive, and asks me “Who’s your Dad?”; and I tell him “You’ll know soon enough!”. Well, at this point, he has had enough of this interrogation… he probably decided he better find out who my Dad is… and I am left alone again for a while.
I found out later that Keith had cracked, and they already knew the details of the day; and not long after my interrogation, they moved me into the front waiting room. I wasn’t there long before my Dad came in; and to my immense relief and surprise, he didn’t appear angry… and as he asked me “What did ya’ll do?”, someone was dictating the charges to the person typing up the report: Shoplifting; Breaking and Entering; Drunk Under Age; Resisting Arrest… and I answered “that…”. His understated response was “Huh!”. He had a brief meeting with Jessie Paul (Chief of Police at the time) in Jessie’s office, then we left to go meet my Mom at my Grand-mothers.
For anyone who has never made serious errors in judgement in their lives, I don’t think you can understand how much it means to have someone, anyone, to be understanding; that will be willing to calmly discuss with you the situation, not necessarily condoning your actions, but not immediately condemning you as a bad person. I was blessed in my life to have two parents that could be those people for me. They taught me how to confess my sins, and ask for forgiveness, and accept my punishment. I am not proud of some of my actions in my youth, and merely document them as a way to hopefully provide some guidance or possible forewarning to other young persons who may be afflicted with the same problem as mine.
For those who may have read my Mustang story, this time it was my Dad who saved me from Mom’s wrath; on the trip from the Police Station to my Grand-mothers, my Dad was preparing me for the meeting; “You know your Mom is not going to be happy about this; she’s pretty angry; don’t say anything but “I’m sorry…”; let me do the talking, okay?”. And he made sure to stand between me and her while the meeting happened… and though painful, to see my Mom’s anger and pain, we all survived it… and it was a LONG time before I was arrested again, for another minor infraction 10 years later…
We apologized at the store, and paid for the beer; and apologized to the Minister and the Church; and I apologized to Carla for having to go to the Rectory and hang up the phone so her phone line was usable; and Keith and I were barred from being together for a while; and I wish I could say it was a life-changing event for me… but no, it would be many years until something would happen to change my mind.
To be continued; same life, different story…
Stories From The Fog 