The Mistake WC:275

The Mistake

The meat wagon had just pulled away; the crime scene tape was in place. At this point, I was the only suspect.

Detective Peters walked over to me, and the two cops guarding me.

“So Mr. Kent, where is this mystery man?”

“He was here!”

“We’re going down to the station.”

“I was trying to see if I could help.”

“A Good Samaritan. Touching. Just because you say he was here, doesn't mean he had anything to do with this.”

“He did it! He was standing under that streetlight just before you got here.”

“That's what you said.” He got out his handcuffs.

“I heard the sirens, turned toward the sound, then turned back. I looked again and nobody was there.”

“Eyes playing tricks on you?”

“He came over to me brandishing his weapon.”

"And he forced you to kill a homeless John Doe in cold blood.”

I have done some bad things in my life, but not this.

“He forced me to watch.”

Detective Peters stood staring at me for the longest time.

“Where's the weapon?”

“I told you!”

“Put out your hands.”

“And if I don't comply?”

“I can do this the hard way.”

I've been down the road many times before. I held out my hands; he cuffed me, read me my rights, and stuffed me into the back seat of his vehicle. I knew he had seen my rap sheet and what I was capable of. But as God is my witness. I had not done this.

As we pulled away, I looked back. The man was standing under the streetlight, weapon in one hand, waving goodbye with the other.