You Don't Name Him

Chapter 3

Chapter-3

   The officer with the shotgun came near.

   "Freeze! Police!" he screamed.

   He was screaming as loud as he could. This had two purposes, one; blowing off his own tension and two; trying to scare me off. Plenty of fury and tension to soften the target. I raised my hands. The guy with the revolver started in from the door. The guy with the shotgun came closer. Too close, their first error. If I had to, I might have lunged for the shotgun barrel and forced it up. The guy with the revolver had narrowed down his angle and couldn't risk hitting his partner. It could have ended up badly for them. But then, I just sat there with my hands raised. The guy with the shotgun was still screaming and jumping.

   "Out here on the floor!" he yelled.

   I slid slowly out of the booth and extended my wrists to the officer with the revolver. I was not going to lie on the floor. Not for these country boys. Not if they had brought along with them their whole police department with howitzers.

   The guy with the revolver was a sergeant. He was pretty calm. The shotgun covered me as the sergeant holstered his revolver and unclipped the handcuffs from his belt and clicked them on to my wrists. The backup team came through the kitchen. They walked around the lunch counter. Took up positions behind me. They patted me down, Very thorough. I saw the sergeant acknowledge the shakes of the heads, no weapon.

   The back up guys each took an elbow. The shotgun still covered me. The sergeant stepped up in front. He was a compact, athletic white man. The acetate nameplate above his shirt pocket said : Jackson. He looked up at me.

   "Harry McCarthy, you're under arrest for murder," he said. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used as an evidence against you in court. You have the right to representation by an attorney. Should you be unable to afford an attorney, one will be provided to you by the State of Georgia free of charge. Do you understand these rights?"

   It was a fine rendition of Miranda. He spoke clearly. He didn't read it from a card. He spoke as if he knew what was important and why. To him and to me. I didn't respond.

   "Do you understand your rights?" he said again.

  Again I didn't respond. Long experience taught me that absolute silence is the best way. Say something and it can be misheard, misinterpreted or misunderstood. It can get you convicted or killed. Silence upsets the arresting officer. He tells you that silence is your right but hates it if you exercise it. I was arrested for something that I didn't do and yet, I said nothing.

   "Do you understand your rights?" Jackson asked me again. "Do you speak English?"

   He was calm and I said nothing. He remained calm. He had a calm of a person whose moment of danger had passed. He would just drive me down to the station where I would become somebody else's problem. He glanced around to his three fellow officers.

   "Okay, make a note that he said nothing." he grunted. "Let's go."