It was an accident

     Devon felt good and powerful walking down the street toward his girlfriend’s house. He was sure he would get lucky; he was having a momentous week. The head of his gang's name was Tony, but everyone called him Eight for some reason. If you listen to the stories, it was based on the number of bodies he had taken in his life. Not bad for only being 24 years old. Eight had given Devon a special job to do. Last night Devon completed the job and knew Eight would be happy with him and may give him a bonus.

        The sun shone through the leaves of the trees that lined his girlfriend’s house. This was the nice part of town, where Devon lived. Abandoned cars lined the streets instead of nice tall trees. Dealers and homeless people were the only ones hanging outside enjoying the nice summer day. Here is Trish’s hood. A few kids were riding bikes down the street, and one lady was picking weeds out of her garden. He liked this, and someday he too would have a nice house like the ones along Trish’s Street.

         The squeal of tires grabbing asphalt pulled Devon from his daydream, glancing back over his shoulder, he saw the cop car, backing up and turning down the street on which he was walking. Devon faced forward and took off running, he turned and ran between two houses hoping to lose the cops. Once on the next street, Devon headed back the opposite way hoping to throw the cop off. He desperately wanted to be back on his block where he knew all the shortcuts and could easily hide from the police. He slowed his pace a little to conserve energy in case he had to run all the way home. He kept checking over his shoulder, not seeing any cops following him. Feeling that he had gotten away from them, he slowed to a walk and pulled out his phone to call Trish to tell her.

“Hey D, you still coming over?” She asked.

        Was all Devon heard when he saw a second cop car turn down the street, aiming right for him. He threw the phone in his pocket and headed between two houses; it worked before he thought. Only this time he didn’t plan on his path being blocked by a wooden privacy fence that blocked access to both yards. He quickly removed the item Eight had given him last night and threw it over the wooden fence. Then he started to run again, he made it to the front of the house with the wooden privacy fence before the first cop tackled him. m

     “Stop resisting” the cop yelled as he tried to wrestle Devon onto his stomach. Devon was not going to give up easily. To Devon, the cop looked old and out of shape. So, he pushed against the cop's chest to get some leverage to get back to his feet and run away. The cop slapped Devon’s hand away and kept yelling at him to stop resisting. That pissed Devon off, he balled his fist and swung his arm at the officer's face as hard as he could. Devon’s fist connected with the officer's cheek but had a trivial effect. Another officer arrived and together they rolled Devon over and pulled his hands behind his back.

   The officers pulled him to his feet and began to walk him toward the police cruisers parked at the curb. Looking around Devon saw a few people and several kids standing outside watching the excitement.

   “Good thing your partner showed up, I was just about to break free,” Devon said overly confidently.       “Then I would have been a ghost.” Devon shook his shoulders still trying to break the grip of the offices, then yelled. “Anybody catch this on video, this is police brutality, someone record this so I can sue them.”

    “Shut up, no one wants to hear your mouth.” The officer barked at Devon as he put Devon across the cruiser’s hood. The officer then began to frisk Devon looking for weapons or contraband.

   “Oh, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.” Devon began to scream at anyone who would listen.

   The other officer looked at Devon and said, “If you can talk you can breathe.”

   Before Devon could protest anymore the officer pulled him off the hood and moved him toward the back door.

   “Why am I being arrested, you have to tell me before you put me in the car, that’s the law,” Devon yelled.

   “Well, Johnnie Cochran for starters for resisting arrest.” The officer said then pushed Devon into the car.

   “My name ain't Johnnie, you got the wrong guy,” Devon yelled then began to laugh, as the office shut the door.

   “You’ve got a real winner there.” The second officer said with a smile. “I’ll backtrack his trail and see if he dumped anything.”

   “Thanks, Tommy, I’ll be in head quarts waiting on the detectives, let me know if you find anything.

   Twenty minutes later the officer placed Devon in a small room with a table and three chairs and told him to sit in the farthest chair.

   “You gonna take these chains off me?” Devon protested shaking his hands behind his back.

   “That will be up to the detectives when they get here.” The officer waited for Devon to sit down then closed the door leaving it partially open. Over the next half hour, Devon asked several times when the detectives would be there. The office replied soon each time.

   Forty minutes later two men in suites walked into the interview room.

   “Devon I’m Detective Jones, this is my partner Detective Albert.”

   “Look I didn’t mean to punch that officer I was just trying to roll over like he was screaming at me to do.”

   “Okay, Devon we will make a note of that. Stand up and turn around and we will take the cuffs off you as long as you promise not to hit us.”

   “Nay, you guys seem cool,” Devon said as he stood up and turned his back to the detectives. Detective Albert removed the cuffs and then handed them out the door to the officer standing outside, then shut the door.

   “Okay,” Detective Jones said and sat in the chair closest to the wall and then opened his leather notebook. “You are Devon McCarty correct?” The question was more rhetorical because Devon had been taken through the ID and had his fingerprints verified and photos taken before being brought up to speak to the detectives.

   “Yeah.” That was the only reply Devon provided.

   “Okay, I am going to read your rights before we have a little chat.

   “You ain't gotta do that I know what my rights are, I’m not stupid.”

   “I am sure you're not, but the people who make the rules say we have to do it.”

   “Whatever,” Devon said then slumped back into his rigid plastic chair.

   Detective Jones went through the right waiver one line at a time asking if Devon understood each line.

   In the end, Devon stated that he understood his rights and was willing to talk to the detectives. Even though he had hit an officer before and never had to be interviewed afterward. Devon was sure this was to cover up the fact the officer had no right to arrest him, and they were just trying to cover it up.

   “Now we like to start each interview with a simple agreement, you don’t lie to us, and we won’t lie to you.” Detective Jones stated then added. “Do you agree?”

   “Yeah, sure.” Devon spit out. Thoughts of winning a ton of money for falsely being arrested swam around in his head.

   “Good. Are you still in school?” Jones asked.

The question threw Devon off a bit. “Yeah, I still go, my mama says I have to.”

   “That is very smart of her, do you get good grades?”

   Devon paused then answered, “I do, I’m on the honorable roll.”

   Both detectives looked at each other and traded smiles before continuing. “You go to Southland correct, a junior?”

   “Yeah, I got one more year then I’m out.”

   “Going to Southland, are you associated with the Southies there?” Detective Albert spoke up for the first time.

   “So, I know a few of them,” Devon replied.

   “Do you consider yourself a member of the Southie gang?” Jones asked.

   Devon looked at both detectives taking the time to decide how to answer the question. He decided to go with an answer he hoped would intimidate the detectives. “Yeah, I’m a Southie.” He felt a bit empowered admitting that.

   “Tony still running that crew?” Jones asked.

   “Eight does, and as soon he finds out I’m here he’ll get me out.” Devon boasted.

   “I’m sure you will be top on his list of things to do,” Jones stated then added. “Tony ever tell you where he got the nickname Eight?”

   “Everyone on the street knows how he got the name,” Devon said now sitting straight up in his rigid plastic chair.

   “Cause he’s killed eight people, right?” Albert explained.

   “That’s right.” Devon started then stopped himself. He knows cops tried to trick people and he wasn’t going to fall for it.

   “Or maybe it’s because he is the eighth child, and his siblings called him that as a joke and it just stuck.” Albert said, “But I’d go with the eight-bodies story myself.”

   Jones then spoke up again. “Do you recall where you were on Tuesday night?”

   The question caught Devon a bit off guard “I was around.”

   “That’s good, being around. What were you doing after school?”

   “Just hanging out,” Devon replied.

   “Who were you hanging with, the Southies?”

   “Yeah, some of them. Why you asking about Tuesday?”

   “Well, since you have been honest with us so far, I’ll be honest with you,” Jones said. “We are investigating a homicide that happened two blocks from Southland High School. You know anything about that?”

    Again, Devon paused, searching his mind for an answer. “I heard about it at school the next day.”

   “Did you know the boy that was killed?” Jones asked, looking hard at Devon.

   “Some banger from the Double Duce gang up north is what kids at school were saying,” Devon said with a dry voice.

    “Oh really,” Jones said writing something down in his folder. “Did any of the kids at school say what the kids' name was?”

   “I don’t remember,” Devon said suddenly realizing his throat was dry. “Can I get something to drink?”

   “You sure can, you want a soda or just some water.”  Albert asked, then added, “We have a soda machine down the hall, my treat.”

   “I’ll take a Coke,” Devon said, then pulled his arms inside his shirtsleeves noticing how cold the room was. “Can you turn the heat up, it’s so cold in here.”

   “No, they don’t let us play with the thermostat. Hang tight we will be right back with your Coke.” Jones said as he gathered up his notebook and followed Alber out of the room.

   Twenty minutes the detectives came back in and set a cold can of Coke in front of Devon.

   “Here you go. Enjoy” Albert said as the detectives returned to the same seats.

   Devon pulled his arms out and took a long swig of the cold soda.

   “Devon, who at school told you who had been shot?” Jones asked.

   Devon took another long swallow of Coke and pulled his arms back through his shirtsleeves.

“I don’t know just some kids in the hall, I guess.” He replied.

   “I would have thought a rival gang member would be big news not just in school but within the Southies as well,” Albert asked.

   “I…I” Devon paused, slumped down in his chair, and said, “I just don’t know.”

   “Don’t you gang members get cool nicknames, like Eight, when your part of a gang?” Albert questioned.

   “I don’t know, kids were just talking about it in the halls,” Devon said to the floor.

   “What is your nickname, Devon?” Albert asked.

   “I ain’t got one,” Devon said still looking at the floor between his feet.

   “Devon, remember we agreed to tell each other the truth in here. Detective Alber and I have been honest and even bought you a Coke. It’s time to hold up your side of the agreement.”

   “I am, I don’t know who shot the kid, okay,” Devon said looking back up at the detectives. “I want to call my mom.”

   “Not right now, we have to get this figured out first,” Jones told him.

   “You can’t talk to me without my mom, I’m only sixteen you know. It’s against the law.”

   “I told you he was smart, he’s a real live Atticus Fitch,” Albert said.

   “You have to let me talk to my mom,” Devon said then finished off his Coke, and slid his arm back into his shirt sleeve.

   “Devon, we spoke to your mother before coming in here. We have it on audio tape that she permitted us to speak to you.” Jones said in a fatherly voice.

   “Who told you to shoot that kid from the Double Duce gang Devon?” Albert asked.

   “I ain’t shoot anybody.” Devon shot back staring at Albert with angry defiant eyes.

   “Look, Devon,” Jones said leaning over the table on his elbows. “We know you are good for the shooting.

   “Nah, whoever said they saw me shoot that Double Duce is lying to you.” Even though he was cold Devon began to sweat.

   Detective Jones cracked open a second can of Coke and slid it over to Devon. He took the empty can and put it into a plastic bag. Devon did not notice this as he took a drink from the fresh can, his mind racing to think of what he could say to get out of this.

   “Devon, we have no witnesses to the shooting, unless you're telling us there was someone out that might have seen you. Was there someone?”

   There was a long pause as the detectives waited for Devon to respond. Devon couldn't think straight at this moment. Jones opened his notebook and slid a photo over so Devon could see it.

   “This is Trevor Johnson, a ninth grader at Southland. He has no gang affiliation.”

   “Unless you count the band as a gang,” Albert added. “He played the trumpet.”

   “Who told you to kill this boy?” Jones asked.

   “That’s Reggie Tolls,” Devon said looking at the enlarged school photo of Trevor Johnson.

   “No, this is Trevor Johnson,” Jones said tapping the photo. “Who ordered the hit?”

   “No no no. I was…” Devon started then stopped and let his chin hit his chest.

   “You killed the wrong person, Devon,” Albert said. “Who told you to kill Reggie and why?”

   Devon didn’t respond at first, taking in all the information and trying to make sense of it all.

   “We have your DNE on the body,” Jones added. “Spitting on the person you just killed is not the brightest thing you’ve ever done. We also recovered the gun you threw over the fence when running from the offices today. I’m sure ballistics will match it up to the bullets recovered from Mr. Johnson’s body.”

   “It was an accident,” Devon said looking up suddenly full of confidence. “I didn’t mean to shoot him, so it was an accidental shooting. I didn’t mean to shoot him.”

   “Devon, I’m not sure what YouTube law school you watched but accidental or not you killed someone,” Albert told him.

   “Yeah, but it’s, like accidental so no big deal, really,” Devon said looking more like a sixteen-year-old now than when he first arrived.

   “Devon, you followed the kid and shot him in the alley three doors down from his own home,” Albert explained.

   “So, it was the wrong person, so it was an accident. Not really my fault.”

   “Right because you were told to kill Reggie.”

   “Yes, that is right,” Devon explained, still not fully understanding.

   Standing up Detective Jones said. “Devon we are charging you with first-degree homicide and at your age you will be tried as an adult.