Wanda looked at me like I was a stranger. Alonzo barely had his eyes open.
“Wanda, you remember me? I’m Jack McEvoy, the reporter? I came to see you last Monday.”
She nodded and clicked an ill-fitting pair of dentures in her mouth. She had not worn them when I visited her at home.
“That’s right. You the one who put all the lies in the paper about my Zo.”
This statement perked Alonzo up.
“Well, he’s out now, right?” I said quickly.
I stepped over and offered my hand to her grandson. He hesitantly took it and we shook but he seemed confused by who I was.
“Glad to meet you finally, Alonzo, and glad you’re out. I’m Jack. I’m the reporter who talked to your grandmother and started the investigation that led to your release.”
“My grandmother? Motherfucker, what you talking about?”
“He don’t know what he talkin’,” Wanda said quickly.
I suddenly understood the error of my ways. Wanda was his grandmother but had been playing his mother—Moms—because his real mother was on the street. He probably thought his real mother was his sister, if he knew her at all.
“Sorry, I got confused,” I said. “Anyway, I think we are being interviewed together.”
“Why the fuck you bein’ interviewed?” Alonzo asked. “I’m the one spent the motherfuckin’ time in jail.”
“I think it’s because I’m the one who got you out.”
“Yeah, that funny. Mr. Meyer say he the one that got me out.”
“Our lawyer got him out,” Wanda chimed in.
“Then how come your lawyer isn’t here and going on CNN?”
“He coming.”
I nodded. This was news to me. When I left work Friday it was going to be just Alonzo and me on the show. Now we had Moms and Meyer aboard. I decided this was not going to go well on live broadcast. Too many people and at least one of them the broadcast censors would have issues with. I went over to a table where there was a coffee urn and poured a cup. I took it black. I then reached into a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts and chose an Original Glazed. I tried to keep to myself and watch the overhead television, which was tuned to CNN and would soon be broadcasting the newsmagazine show we were scheduled to appear on. After a while a technician came in and wired us for sound, clipping a microphone to our collars and putting an audio feed earpiece into our ears and hiding all wires under our shirts.
“Can I speak to a producer?” I said quietly. “Alone?”
“Sure, I’ll tell him.”
I sat back down and waited and after four minutes I heard my name spoken by a male voice.
“Mr. McEvoy?”
I looked around and then realized the voice had come in over the earpiece.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“This is Christian DuChateau in Atlanta. I’m producing today’s show and I want to thank you for getting up so early to be on. We’ll go over everything when we get you into the studio in a few minutes. But did you need to speak with me before that?”
“Yes, just hold on a second.”
I walked out of the greenroom and into the hallway, closing the door behind me.
“I just wanted to make sure you’ve got somebody good on the beeper,” I said in a low voice.
“I don’t understand,” DuChateau said. “What do you mean by ‘beeper’?”
“I don’t know what exactly it’s called, but you should know that Alonzo Winslow may only be sixteen years old but he pretty much uses the word motherfucker about as often as you use the word the.”
There was silence in response but not for too long.
“I understand,” DuChateau said. “Thank you for the heads-up. We try to conduct pre-interviews with our guests but sometimes there isn’t time. Is his lawyer there yet?”
“No.”
“We can’t seem to locate him and he isn’t answering his cell. I was hoping he might be able to, uh, control his client.”
“Well, at the moment, he isn’t here. And you have to understand something, Christian. This kid didn’t commit that murder but that doesn’t mean he’s this innocent young child, if you know what I mean. He’s a gangbanger. He’s a Crip and right now he’s turning the greenroom blue. He’s got his blue jeans, his blue plaid shirt, and at the moment he’s wearing a blue do-rag.”
There was no hesitation on the phone this time.
“Okay, I’ll take care of this,” the producer said. “If things fall out, are you willing to go on alone? The segment is eight minutes with a video report on the case in the middle. After you subtract the video and your intro, it’s about four and a half to five minutes of airtime with our show host here in Atlanta. I don’t think you’ll be asked anything you haven’t already been asked about the case.”
“Whatever you need. I’m good to go.”
“Okay, I’ll get back to you.”
DuChateau clicked off and I went back to the greenroom. I sat on a sofa against the wall opposite Alonzo and his mother/grandmother. I engaged him in no conversation but eventually he tried to engage me.
“You say you started this whole thing up?”
I nodded.
“Yes, after your—after Wanda called me and told me you didn’t do it.”
“How come? No white man ever give a motherfucking shit about me ’fore this.”
I shrugged.
“It was just part of my job. Wanda said the police had it wrong and so I looked into it. I found the other case like yours and put it all together.”
Alonzo nodded thoughtfully.
“You gonna make a million dollah?”
“What?”
“They pay you to be here? They ain’t pay me. I ask for a few dollars for my time but they don’t gimme a motherfuckin’ cent, no.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the news. They don’t usually pay.”
“They makin’ money off him,” Wanda chimed in. “Why not pay the boy?”
I shrugged again.
“Well, you could ask them again, I guess,” I offered.
“A’ight, I think I’m gonna ask ’em when we doin’ the interview on live TV. What the muthafucka gonna say then, huh?”
I just nodded. I don’t think Alonzo realized his mike was on and somebody down the hall or in Atlanta was probably listening to what he was saying. A minute after he voiced his plan the door opened and the technician came back into the greenroom and fetched me. As we walked out, Alonzo called after us.
“Hey, where you goin’, now? When I get on the TV?”
The tech didn’t answer. As we walked down the hall I looked at him. He looked worried.
“You the one who has to tell him he’s not going on?”
He nodded.
“And all I can say is that I’m glad they put him through the metal detector in the lobby—and, don’t worry, I did check to make sure.”
I smiled and said good luck.
ELEVEN: The Cold, Hard Earth
It was almost sunrise. Carver could see the jagged line of light just beginning to etch the silhouette of the mountain chain. It was beautiful. He sat on a large rock and watched the light show as Stone labored in front of him. His young acolyte was working hard with the shovel and was down to the cold, hard earth that lies beneath the soft top of loose soil and sand.