An adult stories – It Needed Doin’ – John Corso by Wandering_Mongol,Wandering_Mongol “Damar, there’s a bad one coming in. You drew it,” said the sergeant as he looked down at me. I was sitting at my desk, trying to type up my notes and thoughts on the interview I’d finished an hour ago.
“Oh?” I wittily asked.
“Yeah,” the sergeant replied, just as wittily. “You ain’t heard the chatter?”
“Not yet. ‘Sup?”
“Domestic gone bad. Real bad. They’re bringing in the shooter. You get to talk to him.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,…” I muttered, turning back to my screen and trying to finish my notes quick. “How long?”
“You got around two hours?” the sergeant said. “The shooter’s at the hospital. Shocky.”
I just put on a pained look. “Just make certain I get the prelims, first. I don’t like doing this blind. That shit last year was bullshit.”
“I hear ya,” he said. “They’re still getting it together. This one’s bad.”
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I scanned the topsheet as I pulled on my suit jacket and made certain my police ID was hanging in plain sight.
Then I scanned it a bit more.
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Breaking and entering. Brandishing. Assault with a firearm. Assault with a taser. Menacing underage children. He’d killed the husband of the owner of the home. A long list of other potential charges.
Yeah, I could see why the sergeant said this was bad.
I thumbed over, and got to the light particulars.
Units arrived after alarms went off. On-site officers entered, found the suspect in a bedroom, holding a naked girl on a bed. Unconscious adolescent male (17) in the bedroom. Corpse in the bedroom, dead from presumably the 1911 on the floor. 7 rounds in corpse. Adolescent male found in a locked closet, handcuffed and duct tape over the mouth.
______
Holy shit.
No, I needed more. What the Hell…?
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Police respond to an alarm for a residential home. Adequate response time. Upon arriving, they see a bay window has been smashed in, house lights are flashing. They enter, weapons drawn, announcing their presence (bodycam footage available). No verbal response.
Police officers follow thumping sounds to a room, and discover a young male adolescent, Shawn Corso (10) in handcuffs, with duct tape around his head and mouth, kicking from the inside of a locked closet. Shawn is emotionally unstable, shows injuries, and escorted off premises to a parked unit outside (bodycam footage available).
Backup arrives, two units.
Officers find suspect in room down the hall from where Shawn Corso was found.
Suspect is adult white male, late 30’s, later identified as John Corso (multiple ID in on-person wallet) (37).
Suspect is found holding adolescent white female, Jean (Jeanie) Corso (14). Jean Corso is naked, and appears to have been prior restrained to bedposts, on the bed Joh Corso is found sitting on. Unresponsive to stimuli. Taken to hospital for workup and monitoring.
Corpse found in bedroom is identified as Mark Mattolo (37), house occupant.
Unconscious adolescent male found in the bedroom identified as Mark Mattolo (Junior)(17). Mark Mattolo Jr. is injured, and taken to hospital.
John Corso is taken into custody, unresponsive to officers, but not resisting. Uninjured. Taken to hospital for workup.
Gun recovered in scene is Colt M1911, single-action, recoil-operated, semi-automatic pistol chambered for the.45 ACP cartridge (unmodified). Registered to John Corso (suspect).
Taser recovered on site is model Taser 7 CQ. Discharged. (John Corso).
Also found on site, in vehicle, is home owner Jean Mattolo (36). She is discovered in her car, parked in the driveway, distraught. Declined medical aid. Showing signs of shock. Taken to hospital for workup.
Jean Mattolo is ex-wife of John Corso (three years). With her in the vehicle is her son, Hunter Mattolo (3).
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Okay, this screamed ‘crime of passion.’
It looked like the ex-husband went bonkers, went to the ex-wifes house, and went ripsaw on the ex-wifes new husband.
My job now, was to get what information I could out of John Corso, who was in Interview Room #3.
I got to work pulling up backgrounds and history.
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I looked at the screen showing what the camera in #3 could see. John Corso was there, sitting beside the small table, a hospital blanket around his shoulders and a cup of Palumbo’s coffee beside him, untouched. He was in there with Palumbo, who was pretty good at getting things out of woman, but men, not so much. Palumbo was doing the initial, I would be the main.
I watched for a minute, the sergeant beside me, and we could see that Corso, still holding the blanket around him, was unresponsive… but his eyes were moving, and his breathing changed a couple of times, when Palumbo asked him questions. Corso was in there, and the hospital had released him to the police, no damage found, just under severe emotional strain.
I hoped Palumbo would remember to get that blanket away from Corso, I had a suspect throw one at me last year, and attack me while I was tied up with it. I didn’t want a repeat.
“Has he said anything?” I asked the sergeant. We both watched the screen.
“Not that I’ve seen,” he said. “I ain’t been watching it all though. Palumbo will know.”
I hoped Palumbo had gotten something.
“Don’t forget to box your shit before you go in there,” the sergeant reminded me. We weren’t supposed to take weapons, cuffs, OC spray, and other such things into Interviews. Safety precaution. Not for the interviewer, but for everyone else, in case some suspect pulled a rip and dropped the interviewer, then went on an escape-attempt. It had happened.
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“Mr. Corso, I’m Detective Damar Freeman.” I said, after a brief talk with Palumbo in the hallway, as I entered Interview Room #3. Palumbo had said Corso was starting to respond, but wasn’t up to speed yet. “No relation.”
My attempt at humor failed. Corso looked at me, but didn’t give me any sign of a laugh or a grimace. Just a nod, letting me know he knew I was there. Palumbo entered behind me.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked Corso, as I put down my cup of lukewarm bean-juice, an attempt to show him I was drinking what he did. “Food, maybe?”
Corso just shook his head slowly, indicating he wasn’t interested. But it did let me know he was ‘in there’ and responsive. Two responses in a row.
“Mr. Corso, do you think we can have a conversation?” I asked him, putting my hand on the back of the chair. I wouldn’t sit down, until he gave me a positive sign of engaging with me. Doing that made people feel like they had a little more control, sometimes. People in control were more relaxed, and prone to talk more. “If now isn’t good, we can talk later.”
“No, it’s okay,” Corso said, his volume low, his speech slower than the local normal, but his eyes did look at my face. He was starting to engage, after some emotional trauma and ‘checking out.’ “We can talk. I don’t remember a lot though.”
“What can you tell me?” I asked, pulling out the only other chair in the room, and it was still warm from Palumbo sitting in it. Palumbo took position next to the closed door, and stuck his hands in his pockets, which was a sign of passivity. Another calming tactic.
Corso’s eyes started shifting back and forth, generally looking down. He was searching his memories, and trying to put words to things. You give people time when they’re like this.
“Is Jeanie okay?” Corso asked me. He sounded and looked a bit desperate.
“Jeanie?” I asked. I knew who he meant, but I needed his cognitive functions to engage. Ask him counter-questions of an easy nature, he might get where I needed him quicker.
“My daughter.” Corso responded. “Is she okay? She wouldn’t wake up. I think she was drugged. Is she okay?”
“She’s in the hospital right now.” I told him, a reassuring tone in my voice, along with a small smile. “We’re having toxicology, and a rape kit done on her.”
“Oh God, tell me she wasn’t raped?” Corso’s tone was almost pleading. He had a nervous action with his right hand, which I assumed was his dominant hand. “She wasn’t raped, was she?!”
“We’ll know more later.” I said, not knowing the answer. “We need to let the doctors do their jobs first.”
“Where’s Shawn?”
“Your son was found in another room. He’d been restrained, and was in a closet.” I told him. “You didn’t know?”
“He’s okay?” Corso said, meeting my eyes.
“He’s shook up from what I understand, but he’s okay.” I said. This looked like genuine concern so far. The nervous action in Corso’s fingers was still happening.
“Oh thank God.”
“You didn’t know he was in there?” I asked again.
“No. I didn’t have time to look… after those kids ran past me, I just went to the bedroom.” Corso said. I made a note of that.
“My kids are okay?” Corso asked me again.
“Mr. Corso, can I call you John?” I believed in asking permission before using their first name. Control measures, reassurance. Also, polite.
Corso just nodded, his eyes on the floor now.
“John, we just have to wait to find out about your daughter.” I reaffirmed, leaning toward him a little, projecting friendliness. “Your son seems okay.”
“Oh God… Jeanie… she’s so little…” Corso started to tear up.
I nudged Corso’s coffee a little closer to him, and put a travel pack of tissues on the table between us, making certain he’d have to reach toward me to get them. Symbology.
Corso looked at me, a hint of thankfulness in his features, and reached for the tissues. He pulled them closer, left them on the table, and then picked up his coffee. Hopefully he’d make a face if he drank some. Palumbo had put a shot of Fred’s Hot Sauce in it. That would be another sign he was ‘coming back.’
“Can I see them?” Corso asked.
“Not right now.” I told him. “Right now, you are under arrest, and we have some steps to take before anything can happen.” I factually told him. “Do you remember being read your Miranda rights?”
Corso just shook his head. He looked back at me, worry on his face.
“We’ll do that again, okay?” I asked. Getting his permission again. Palumbo was already digging his card out of his pocket.
Palumbo stepped forward a little, and in a clear voice, informed John Corso of his rights.
“Do you understand these rights as I’ve informed you?” Palumbo ended with, his tone even.
Corso nodded his head.
“I need you to answer with words, Mr. Corso.” Palumbo gently prompted.
“Yeah, I understand.”
Palumbo gave me a nod, and then faded back into the background.
“Do you have any questions?” I asked Corso, making certain he saw I was interested in his answer.
“I’m under arrest.” Caruso said, more of a confirmation than a question.
I kept my silence, but still looked interested.
“Wow,” Caruso muttered, and picked up his coffee. Not blindly, he looked and guided his hand there.
He took a sip, just the surface of the coffee. Then he took a good mouthful.
A look of surprise came over his face, then disbelief, and he spit the coffee back into the Styrofoam cup, looking like he was apologizing. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I assured him, having got the response I wanted. His brain would engage now, having had a nasty taste. Fred’s in your coffee was dog-butt awful. “That pot always makes foul crap. Here…”
I pushed my cup over to him. I hadn’t played with it.
Corso grabbed it, and took a tentative swig. That was followed by a couple more swallows.
Now I knew he wasn’t racist, having taken a black man’s drink, and he needed to get that lingering nasty taste out of his mouth. He was showing some trust in me now. I may have enough to start with.
I gave him a little time while I shuffled papers uselessly. He put the cup down, and I took that as a signal to start.
“What can you tell us, John?” I asked, modulating my voice.
Corso’s eyes started moving again, accessing his memory, but it wasn’t as frantic now. He looked up at me, then at Palumbo, seemed to come to a decision, and I could see him starting to figure out what to say.
“…this may be long,” was how he chose to open.
“That’s okay.” I said, giving him the small assuring smile and affirming nod, while looking like I wasn’t concerned. “Tell us what you need to.”
“That was my old house.”
“We know.” I said, sounding sympathetic. “Your wife got it in the divorce.”
“Yeah…” Corso looked unhappy again.
“Wait… where’s Jean? My ex?” Corso suddenly asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” I responded. “Last I knew, she was giving a statement.”
“Statement?” Corso leaned forward. “She was there?!”
“She was outside, in their car, in the driveway.” I told him.
“That bitch was there?! She knew what was happening?!” Corso came out of his seat, but didn’t advance. He was still one-hand holding the blanket around his shoulders. His right hand was palm up, like he was asking a question.
“I don’t know about that,” I answered, my speech slower, my tone even, trying to assure him. “We’re still investigating.”
“Shit, if she was there… oh god, if she knew…” Corso sat down, let go of the blanket, and put his elbows on his knees while he held his head. “Was she…”
I let Corso go on. He was working through something. I looked back at Palumbo, and he gave me a minor shrug, indicating he didn’t know.
Finally, after a minute or so, Corso sat up, breathing deeper than before, and looked at the ceiling, composing himself. Good. Increased oxygen, re-establishing his sense of self-control. We were getting closer.
With a final heave of breath, Corso focused on me.
“You okay?” I asked, again asking his permission, and showing concern.
“Yeah. I guess.”
“John,” I started, trying to move a bit more into the drivers seat. “What was going on?”
Corso rolled his head, showing frustration, and anger. Now we were getting to it.
“Okay, uhm…” Corso was actually trying to calm himself down. Whatever he was going to tell us was loaded with emotion. The fact he was doing so showed he was trying to avoid rambling. He spent a few seconds composing himself, and I could see him considering what he wanted to say.
“Okay, this is long. Uhm… Okay.” Corso heaved another breath. “I guess it started in High School.”
I made a display of writing things down, showing him what he said was important. It wasn’t needed, the mics in the room were excellent, and could pick up someone digesting their lunch burrito. It was important to show the suspect that we valued what they said, if they’d given certain indications. I’d seen those signs. Corso wanted to talk, and he wanted someone to listen.
“Mark Mattolo was my High School bully,” was Corso’s opening statement.
I was a little surprised at that. Corso was 37. This was ancient history. Mark Mattolo was also the same of the man he’d presumably shot, and the husband of Corso’s ex-wife.
“I got on his bad side really early. First year of school. I guess when he’d been in middle school, he was the biggest asshole he could be, and he intended to carry that on in High School. He’s big, he’s strong, and he played football. I was average, and in a strange place. We ran into each other for the first time in the cafeteria. He wasn’t on the team then. But he acted like it.” Corso recounted.
“He cut the line in the cafeteria, and while doing it he bounced a guys head off the glass. I found out later he knew the kid from middle school, so he knew he could get away with it. It was a public display, I think he was establishing himself.”
“I was a couple back, and I went to help the kid. Mattolo told me to leave him alone. I didn’t. Mattolo then kicked my feet out from under me. Then the kitchen worker started yelling, Mattolo blew him off, and it escalated into more yelling, while Mattolo acted like nothing was bothering him. He got suspended though. Just a day. But I’d made his list.”
“If he hadn’t made the football team, as a First Year, he wouldn’t have gotten away with what he did. The football and basketball players were immune to trouble. As long as they didn’t rape a teacher, their coaches got them out of everything, and made certain they got good grades. It was an open secret. As long as the teams won, they were untouchable.”
“Not all the guys were bad.” Corso went on. “Most of them were okay, a couple were cool. But there weren’t any there who would get in the way of the bad ones. There were only a couple bad ones, and Mattolo was right there.”
“The only time Mattolo got in trouble, in regards to his abusing me, was when he broke my arm.” Corso held up his left arm, emphasizing his forearm. “He caught me coming off the bus, pushed me back on, and when I grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling backward, he yanked and bent it wrong on the door. He got in trouble because the bus drivers wouldn’t let him on the busses anymore, but by then he was driving, so it was nothing.”
“He had ‘plausible excuses,’ no suspension, it was game season, and he was a linebacker.” Corso looked angry at the memory. “42 witnesses, three who spoke up and gave statements, and nothing. My Dad even threatened to sue the school, but it was settled with Mattolo ‘apologizing’ and the school paid the medical bills.”
“That guy fucked with me every chance he could.” Corso lamented. “I wasn’t the only one. He could get girls, but only once or twice. He had a reputation for being really rough. There was a rumor of him raping a woman during his senior year. Nobody knew if it was true.”
“He got away with everything.” Corso spat. “He was mean on the field, he delivered, and he was protected by the athletics department. I swear, it was like a bad High-School bully movie.”
“I dealt with it as best I could. I did pretty well in school, and I knew I had a future at my family’s business. I wanted to get into a good college, come home, and start my life. I avoided Mattolo and his buddies as best I was able, I had what fun I could, and I got out.”
“Mattolo got a scholarship.” Corso said angrily.
“So, he went his way, I went mine, and I did okay in school.”
Corso stopped, and took a drink of the coffee, giving a look of distaste as his eyes noticed the hot sauce’d brew.
“I guess this is where it gets boring.” Corso started again. “I met Jean during school, she was an education major. I was engineering and business. We hit it off. Broke up once, got back together, and married once we graduated.”
“We moved back here, to my hometown.” Corso was talking smoothly, no hitches. This was easy history. “We set up our lives, she got a job teaching middle school. I went to work for Dad, and got to learning what I really needed to know for the job. Dad was making good money, but he insisted I get no special favors from him, so I made what everyone else was making, at their level, in his heating/cooling business.”
“A few years later, our daughter Jeanie pops out, and she was… do you have kids?”
“I do.” I said. “A son. He’s eleven.”
“Good.” Corso said. “I thought you may be a Dad.” He took another sip of coffee.
“Well, not as much as I like.” I admitted. “He’s with his mom. I’m divorced.”
Corso looked at me, and I saw sympathy in his eyes. “That’s rough. I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is.” I told him gently, not wanting to get sidetracked. On the plus side, he was empathizing with me. A good step.
“Yeah. Well,” Corso put down his coffee. “Jeanie appeared, and I loved her like I never knew I could love something. Four years later, Shawn showed up, and I got that feeling again. I love my kids.”
“Yeah, I hear ya.” I said, and I did indeed know.
“During all that, I moved up in my Dad’s company, and was doing a lot of the day-to-day planning and operation. Jean moved to teaching High School, after getting some qualifications, and things looked good. I bought that house during a distress sale, and in what little free time I had, I got to work improving it.”
“Things started going bad when I went to a big school mixer with Jean. Students and teachers. One of the community reach things.”
Corso sat back and sighed, and I saw him steeling himself.
“Guess who I ran into at the mixer?”
It was an easy guess, but I couldn’t answer, I needed this to be clean for the recording.
“Big as life, there’s Mattolo. He’s the football coach. A young one too. He’d been good in college, got a shot at the NFL, got damaged during pre-season, and wasn’t charismatic enough for media work after. He came back here, site of his past glory, got a job, and bingo… he’s back.”
“He’s coaching at the same school my wife teaches at.” Corso said with emphasis. “Fuck.”
“That’s rough.” I said, using his own phrasing, and I really felt that way. I know about people you don’t want around showing back up in your life.
“My wife steers Mattolo over to meet me, not knowing he’s that guy, and Mattolo recognized me right off. He acts all buddy-buddy, all the while giving me this sneering smile. Sees I’m unhappy, and he keeps on pushing.”
“Eventually, he pops this line of ‘We had good times in school, didn’t we?’ crap for the benefit of my wife, thinking I’m still a kid and expecting me to go along.
“Fuck you, no.’ I told him. ‘You were the biggest asshole around. Everyone hated you. Everyone probably still hates you. Williams, whose face you broke on a toilet, prays for your death. You broke my arm. There was cheering when you got your knees blown backward. Fuck you.”
“I remember my wife giving me this look, like she couldn’t believe what I’d said, then I saw her put it together. I’d talked about Mattolo, but not by name. Now she put it together.”
“Hey, we were kids.’ The asshole says. ‘That’s behind us.’ and then he puts his hand on my shoulder like he’s my friend, and he’s giving me this bullshit smile.”
“I slapped his hand off me, and I told him if he touches me again, we’re going to go at it.”
“The fucker just keeps that nasty smile going, and steps up to me. He’s still way bigger than me.”
“Let’s see what you got, pissant.’ he tells me. So I swung.”
Corso sighs, picks up his coffee, and takes a swig. He checks the bottom of the cup then, grimaces, and puts it back down. I can tell it’s empty now.
“A few shots happened, he got the best of them. He actually had kids cheering for him.” Corso picks up with. “He knocked me down once, I got back up. I couldn’t let that guy get over me ever again. Ever. I felt that really deeply. I didn’t need to think about it, that guy wasn’t going to put me down ever again.”
“We get broken up, and he’s declaring he couldn’t even feel my punches. He was lying, I could tell. I got a couple of decent ones on him. I get told I have to leave, and I was happy to. Jean went with me. We didn’t talk much going home.”
“Next morning, she lays into me. She’d been texting with some of the other teachers there. She said I embarrassed her, she didn’t know I was that immature, how could I hold a grudge that old, etcetera, etcetera, blah blah.”
“For a couple of days I was holding my ground about the whole thing. She didn’t understand what was happening. Then I started giving her little apologies, saying it won’t happen again, and she’s going on about how she has to occasionally work with Mattolo, she had to ask him not to press charges… he said I didn’t hurt him anyway, I punch like a sissy, she said he said… I tell her we better never be in the same room, if he pulls his shit again. She says she won’t do that to me, but she has to be around him. They work at the same place.”
“Life resumes. Jean doesn’t bring up Mattolo to me again, but I don’t go to any more school events. She tells me I’m not welcome anymore. No skin off my nose.”
“About a year later, things start changing with Jean. She starts changing.” Corso says, his tone shifting. I can anticipate where this is going, and I have to work a little bit to keep my face the way I want.
“Sex slows down a bit, she’s short with me, she’s irritated.” Corso says, his eyes closing. “Then she’s back, but she’s a dynamo in bed. That goes away, and this time, the bed is a desert. Nothing happening. She’s even short with the kids now.”
Corso opens his eyes now, and looks at me.
“Can I get another coffee?” He asks. “I’m kinda dry.”
“Not a problem.” Palumbo says. “I’ll be right back. Damar?”
“Can I get a soda?” I ask.
“Gotcha,” and Palumbo goes out the door.
“John, you okay?” I ask Corso.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” He says. “I promise, I’m getting there. I just need a moment to think. This is bad stuff for me.”
I nod, and we make some small talk. I purposely don’t bring up the current situation, I want Palumbo back here for that. I do a few small things to build Corso’s trust in me, hoping that the break doesn’t slow him down. We haven’t gotten anything relevant to the case yet, other than Corso hated the guy he killed, which is motive. If what he was saying is true, I sympathized.
Palumbo came back pretty quick, handed around the drinks, and we both thanked him.
“So, yeah,…” Corso started again. “Jean went bitch on me. We fought about it for a while, then she just stopped engaging me. At all. I mean, if I brought up our problem, she ignored me. Unless we had something going on about money, the kids, the house… she just wasn’t there for me. Even then, she was pretty bitchy. Jeanie noticed too.”
“Then on our anniversary, she comes on to me. I come home, she’s dressed for sex, she’s all over me. After a few months of just my hand, I’m really ready for her. She’s still not talking to me, she’s just a lot of action.”
“We have a awesome night, and a good morning. It was the last time we had sex.”
“She goes back to being the Frigid Witch of the North. I’m confused, and angry. I’m thinking we’re done, and I’d been thinking that for a while, but Shawn was just a little pop of a guy, and Jeanie needed me around. I’m also weighing the pro’s and con’s of going on with the situation. One of those was that Dad had retired, and I’d bought part of his share of the business. Grandpa still had a share, he’d started it, Dad stepped back and sold me a chunk of his share. I didn’t want to lose that. I started to think about ways to protect that.”
I couldn’t blame Corso for that. We’d looked up what he did for a living. His HVAC business had grown, and until his divorce, he’d been pulling in great money. Then his wife got half of his share, and things changed.
“Then Jean drops a bomb on me. She’s pregnant.” Corso says, shaking his head and looking down. “She’s pregnant again. I asked what happened with her birth control, she’d been on the pill. She just walked away.”
“She doesn’t answer questions, beyond saying she’s pregnant again. That’s the whole thing. The first two,” Corso says, looking back up at me. “… I was jumping and fist-pumping for joy. Now, I just felt dread. This was bad timing.”
“She moves out of the bedroom, moving into Shawn’s bedroom. She says she doesn’t appreciate me pestering her about the baby.”
“I know I’m not going to be able to get a divorce while she’s pregnant, I’d talked to a couple of friends about it.” Corso explains. “I’m wondering if I can put up with Jean being like this for another eighteen years, and the answer is usually ‘no”
“I resign myself to getting through this pregnancy, I’ll give it some time after the new kid pops out, and I’ll see. Maybe she’ll snap back. I was hoping so, anyway.”
“Jean is going to the doctor, she’s keeping appointments, she’s making plans at work for the baby showing up. One day, she tosses a ultrasound down in front of me.”
“It’s a boy,’ she says, and walks away. She wouldn’t answer questions.”
“At this point, we aren’t eating together as a family, Jeanie is crying a lot, Shawn has figured things out, and home is just somewhere we all sleep.”
“Jean has cleared out a storage room, and moved in. She is out of the house most of the time, and I was kinda thankful for that.”
Corso stopped, and took a couple of swallows of his brew. I took the same opportunity.
“I come home one day, a few months later. Jean is showing at that point, but we aren’t even good roommates by that time. I’m dreading the kid who’s coming. I don’t want to be there, but it’s where my kids are, y’know?” Corso says. “Guess what I find when I get there?”
“I couldn’t.” I say, needing to keep him going.
“There’s Jean, sitting with Mattolo.”
I’d expected that. The lead-up was obvious. Corso venting however, would hopefully lead to details about the shooting.
“I throw my fit, and Mattolo is just laughing, like he’s won. He had. The fucker had won.”
“I calm down, and Jean explains to me that the kid in her belly is Mattolo’s, they’d just DNA confirmed it. She tells me they’ve been having an affair for a while, and she’s divorcing me for him.”
“I started to blow up, then had second thoughts. I mean, I wasn’t too crazy about being with her anyway, and now she was leaving? Works for me… or so I thought.”
“Mattolo then tells me that they’ve got evidence I’ve been abusing Jean, and they’ve already got things ready to bury me legally, shark lawyer and all. Evidence to take to the cops. Doctors report that Jean had bruises and taken some damage from getting a beating.”
“I ask why, and what they want.” Corso looks like he wants to spit, but it’s not aimed at me or Palumbo. He’s agitated, but I can also see he’s been wanting to tell someone this story for a while.
“Matolo tells me, laughing all the while, that they’ve got the divorce papers drawn up, and I’m signing over the house, the business, the cars, the accounts, and paying hefty for the kids, every month. And if I don’t sign, he’s going to fuck me up at every opportunity…”
“All the while, Jean just sits there, quiet.” Corso closed his eyes again. “Fuck…”
“What did you do?” Palumbo asks from behind me. I was about to ask too.
“I hit the fucker with the standing lamp while he was laughing. Caught him right across the eyes. His nose popped.”
I felt some satisfaction that had happened, and I let it show a little on my face.
“After that, Mattolo beat the fuck out of me. Then the cops showed up, and I was carted off.”
I’d seen that in the records. I knew what came after too.
“Mattolo and Jean took me to court, the assault charge stuck, and I lost a lot.” Corso sighed. “I ended up only losing half of my share of the business. I’m paying three times the child support I should, but I only get to see my kids for one day a month. Jean got the house, but when Shawn turns eighteen, we sell the place and I get thirty percent. No maintenance now, but I paid a lot before she married Mattolo.”
“She had Mattolo’s spawn, he’s a toddler now. Probably a waste of DNA like his Dad.” Coros lamented. “Mattolo moved in, brought his shit of a kid from his first marriage, Junior. My kids are in that shit situation. To make it worse, Jean keeps finding ways to deny me my day with my kids, which was until a few months ago, under supervision. I complain, it takes a year for that to gain traction in the court.”
“Five months ago, my time with my kids gets expanded to weekends, Friday afternoons to Sunday afternoon, no supervision, but I gotta check in, y’know?”
He looks at me, and he’s searching my eyes for something.
“My kids… they’re different. Scared.” Corso says, worry in his voice. “They’re scared to talk to me. I mean, they’re happy to see me, but they won’t talk to me much. It takes until two months ago for Shawn to start opening up to me. Janie is still closed, skittish.”
“That Sunday, Shawn breaks down. He’s ten. I’ve been out of his life for two years, and it hurts. He remembers me though. God love the little guy, he loves me, remembers me, and I love him back.”
“Shawn tells me that Mattolo isn’t good to him. Janie either. He yells at them, and he’s got no problem pushing them around. His son, Mark Junior, is worse. Junior has no problem throwing Shawn into the closet and locking him in there. Junior is 17, and guess what? He’s on the football team. Quarterback. Guess who the coach is? Anyway, Mattolo thinks my kid being locked up is funny.”
“Then Shawn tells me that Junior has been touching Janie.” Corso is angry now. His hands are clenching. “They’re in High School together, and Janie is skipping a lot of the time, trying to avoid Junior. Then she comes home, late, and tries to hide in her room. That lasted until Mattolo took the door off her room, and tells my kids they have no right to privacy in his house. My house.”
“Junior likes putting his hands on Janie. Shawn says he walks in on Janie if she’s in the bathroom. He makes Janie do his chores, as well as Shawn. And that he’s been getting worse. The touching has been getting sexual.”
“My kids.”
I had this feeling in my stomach, like my heart had dropped into it, and was melting. This was hitting me way, way too close to home. I couldn’t help but think of my son, DL, and how he was doing with my wife and her boyfriend, my ‘old friend’ Lamarr. I hadn’t liked what I’d been seeing out of DL, especially after he’d been picked up for ‘petite’ larceny two months ago.
“Their mother, Jean, does nothing.” Corso says. “She just tells them everything is okay, and it’s just part of life. Shit like that.”
“That bitch is giving up my kids to that fucker and his evil spawn.” Corso was shaking his head and sneering. “The betrayal is almost complete, y’know?”
“Last visit, Janie was almost afraid to talk to me. She didn’t do much, even though I took them to Cartoonland. She flinched away from everything. She’s fourteen, and she’s scared at Cartoonland. She doesn’t eat, she’s too thin, she had nosebleeds popping, and she wouldn’t talk to me. I’m scared for her, I tell her so… and she apologizes to me. She tells me she’s sorry, but she won’t meet my eyes.”
“Shawn tells me it’s getting worse, that Junior is touching her, saying stuff. Mattolo is doing nothing, he lets his son do anything and everything he wants to. Gives the kids a ‘survival of the fittest’ speech or some crap. If they don’t like something, fight. Right. They’re gonna fight.”
“I give Shawn a burner phone. I programmed in my number, and I begged him to call me, if something happens. Shawn is scared too, but I get him to promise. Then I take them back to hell.”
“I expected a call within an hour. My contact with my kids at that place is controlled by my ex. They don’t have phones, if I want to talk to them, I have to call her first. She sometimes lets me, but it’s always short. Birthday and holiday stuff mostly.”
“I didn’t get a call until today.”
Corso paused, and took a drink. We were getting to it. I knew we had to do this, but I had an urge to get out of there, and call my son.
“Shawn calls me. He’s scared. Crying. He was locked up in his room. Junior was there and ‘in charge’ until Mattolo and Jean came back from something, and Junior was there with friends. They were drinking, had slapped Shawn around, and had been talking about waiting for Janie to get home.”
“Then I hear the sound of a door crashing, I think, and I hear a voice yell ‘Who are you talking to!’ and it sounds like Mattolo. Shawn says he’s not talking to anyone, he’s scared. More crashing. Then the line goes dead, but not before I hear Shawn scream.”
“I grab three things… my keys, my gun, and my taser. I’m gonna go get my kids, and I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I’m getting my kids. The court can go to hell.”
Right then, Palumbo and my phone both chimed. Crap. We ignored it.
“I burned my way over to the house. I get there, and there’s a couple of extra cars in the driveway.”
Our phones chimed again. What the fuck?
Then there was a knock at the door. Nobody knocks on an Interview Room door from the outside, unless it’s important. I looked up at the window, Palumbo matching me. I saw our Chief giving us a ‘get-out-here’ look.
“John, I’m sorry, can you hold on a minute? This has to be important. Can I get you anything?” I say.
Corso hands over his coffee cup. I think he’s gonna need a bathroom break soon, at this rate.
“We’ll be back as quick as we can, John.” I say, assuringly. Damn!, we were just getting to it.
He just nods.
We go out the door, and lock it behind us.
“What the hell?” Palumbo says, giving the Chief his best irritated-guy-on-the-job arm wave. “We were almost there! He’s about to tell us everything!”
“Shut up,” the Chief says. “I know what’s happening in there. You need to see this.”
Then he turns and walks down the hallway. Along the way, he starts talking to us, as we follow.
“First, the girl, Jane? His daughter?” Chief starts. “We got preliminary tox on her. She’s positive for ketamine and rohypnol, as well as alcohol. She was tied down with sex cuffs, one each arm and leg. She was face down. Naked. She just woke up, and she’s scared out of her mind. Most people lose memory under these drugs… she didn’t.”
“Oh, shit.” Palumbo mutters.
“She’s identified Mark Mattolo, Junior, and two friends of his. They caught her coming in the door as she got home, forced her to drink some vodka, and spiked her. She doesn’t remember anything after that.”
I could feel my face going hard.
“We’ll have statements from her and Shawn Corso soon, but that info got phoned to me early. Shawn is sedated, he was actually cuffed with police-issue cuffs… I’ll be looking into that, once we get the number off them… had duct tape wrapped around his mouth to shut him up, he’d been beaten, thrown into a closet, and locked in there. He’s got respiratory damage.”
I looked over at Palumbo as we turned a corner, and got to a desk. There was a number of papers spread out, relating to the Corso case so far.
“I haven’t got them yet, but we’ve got two different videos of what happened. From inside the house. One is cellphone footage, one is an overhead cam from inside the bedroom. Matsuda called, he’s looked at the footage so far, says this case is not a passion-crime, it’s a rescue gone tragic.”
“Right now, Matsuda says John Corso saved his little girl from potential rape. I’ll look at the footage as soon as it’s cleared, and I’ll get it to you asap.” Chief explained, showing me a few photos of the crime scene on the laptop on the desk. Outlines, sex-cuffs on a bed, a broken doorframe, a broken window, more.
“What’s with the cameras?” I asked. “That’s way out of the norm,”
“Get this… the cell phone is from one Mitchel Wright, who goes to school with Mark Mattolo, Junior. Matsuda says there’s audio of three of these kids talking about using the video to force Jane Corso, the daughter, to give them sex favors. If it checks, that’s conspiracy to blackmail. On top of everything else.”
“The idiot was filming them raping the girl?” Palumbo said, disbelieving.
“I know, right?” Chief said. “Matsuda’s getting warrants for the other two. Junior is in the hospital, broken collarbone, busted face, in custody. He was the one who got tased. Matsuda’s gonna get a couple of units, and see who he can round up tonight, once he gets warrants.”
“What’s with the other camera?” I asked.
“Get this… it’s a fixed camera, downward angle of the bedroom, color and sound, motion activated, linked to a server in another room. Once someone spotted the camera, they checked it, and got jackpot.” The chief told me.
“Matsuda says it’s got the whole thing, from when the three teens dragged in an unconscious Jean Corso, including talking about their plans, tying her down, spanking her, the alarms going off, the two kids except Junior running out, John Corso coming in and tasing Junior…” the Chief trailed off.
“And?” Palumbo prompted.
“Junior makes a move at Corso, and Corso tases him. Textbook. Junior topples, smacks himself on the bedframe and they think it’s how his collarbone gets broken. Corso then steps up and boots him in the head, and puts the kid out.”
“Wow.”
“Then Corso unties his kid, and is trying to wake her up.”
“Where’s Senior come in?”
“A few minutes later, Mattolo comes running in, stops, makes threats, and Corso pulls his gun out and empties his magazine into him.”
“Then Corso is shown holding his daughter, crying and talking to her, and not able to wake her up. A couple of minutes later, the uniforms show up. Corso never let his daughter go or got out of the bed, until he was cuffed. He didn’t fight, Matsuda says he was out of it.”
“Holy shit.” Palumbo mutters. I agreed.
“We’re still missing a few pieces, and I want them so we don’t have to fuck over Corso for this. Go get his story, and finish this.” Chief tells us, no room for doubt in his voice.
“We’ve got some, if he’s telling us the truth.” I say.
“Get all of it.” Chief says. “Go.”
++++++
“John, I’m sorry for that, but we’ve got some news for you.” I say, sitting down in front of John Corso again.
Corso looks at me, wondering what I’m going to say.
“Your daughter is awake. She’s okay.” I tell him, smiling. “She was drugged, but not raped.”
Corso looks at me, like he can’t believe what he’s just heard. I can’t blame him.
“She’s okay?” he asks. “She’s okay?”
“She is.” I answer. “She’s in the hospital, awake, and under observation. She was drugged.”
“I thought that must be it.” Corso said, tears appearing. “Thank God!”
Corso took a minute, thanking his deity, and babbling a bit. He’d earned that.
“Shawn is okay too.” I said after he was coming back from his moment. “He’s in the same hospital. He’s got some damage, he aspirated some blood, but he’s going to be okay.”
“Aspirated?” Corso asked, not understanding the word.
“His nose was broken, and his mouth was taped shut. He was handcuffed, hands behind him. It looks like Junior hit him, restrained him, threw him into a closet and left him. He inhaled some of his own blood. It’s not good for you, but he’ll be okay.”
“He’s okay?”
“He’ll be fine.” I assure him.
“Junior beat my kid?” I could hear the anger coming back in Corso’s voice. “He did that to my daughter?!”
Palumbo gives him a calming smile, no longer behind me, he’s beside me, kneeling to look Corso in the eye.
Corso leaned over in his chair, and softly pounded his fists against his thighs, while muttering ‘Thank God they’re okay’ over and over.
I reached over, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Corso looked up at me, and he seemed relieved. He gave Palumbo a look, and Palumbo nodded in assurance.
“John,” I broke into his moment with. “… we need to finish this interview. We need some details.”
“Yeah?” John asked, sitting up and wiping his cheeks with his forearm. “Yeah, okay. I can do that.”
Corso sniffs, smiles, and re-launches his story. He sounds happier now. Less burdened, maybe.
“Okay, did I mention getting to the house?” he asked. I nodded yes.
“There was a couple of extra cars in the driveway. I figured that Jean and Mattolo both parked inside, and I didn’t recognize these two. I parked on the street, got out, and went to the door. Thinking about it, I don’t think I closed my car door. Did I close the door on my apartment?… huh…”
“I get to the door, and I start pounding. Nothing. I keep pounding, and nobody is appearing. The lights are on, and there’s cars here. I made a decision.”
“I picked up a landscape brick, and heaved it through the big window into the living room. I knew this would set off the alarms, but I didn’t care. When I’d lived there, I’d contracted that Secsys company. We’d had the windows and doors wired, lights start flashing, and alerts go out, police, phone. Whole kaboodle. It made Jean feel safer, especially when she was pregnant with Shawn.”
“I climbed in, the lights are flashing inside. Next thing, these two big kids come running through the living room, and out into the garage. I’m standing there yelling, wondering if I should chase or look for Shawn, and I see the garage door go up from the door they left open. Then the kids are jumping into their cars, and my decision was made for me, I thought.”
“I pulled the taser, and went to Shawns room. Along the way, I passed Jeanie’s room, and saw the door was gone. Nobody was in there. Shawn’s room door was open, the doorframe at the knob was ripped out, bits of wood on the floor. I looked in, nobody.”
“I’m hearing some guy yell from the bedroom, something about getting back or he’s going to kick their asses, so that’s where I went next.”
“I step into the doorway, and I swear, there’s Mattolo, from back in High School. I mean… it’s him. He’s standing next to my little girl… and… she’s naked, and I can see she’s tied down, on the bed. Mattolo starts yelling at me, telling me something like I need to get the fuck out. Threats. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to him just then.”
“I stepped in, and Mattolo came around the bed, his finger aimed at me, shouting. So, I hit him with the taser. I wasn’t in the mood to fuck with him, my little girl was right there!”
“Mattolo sort of clenched up, and fell over, but he’s still yelling. I wasn’t prepared for that, and if he was yelling, could he fight the taser off? I didn’t know, so I went over and gave him the bottom of my foot to his head. A couple of times, I think. He shut up. That was good enough right then.”
“I checked Jeanie, and she wasn’t moving or waking up. I started untying her, she was there with those padded manacles people use for fun sometimes, y’know? Both her ankles and wrists.”
“She wouldn’t wake up, and my heart… I could feel myself dying, it felt like. It was… I don’t want to feel like that ever again.”
“All I could do was hold my girl, and try to wake her up. So that’s what I did.”
He took a swallow of the fresh coffee we’d brought him. He was thinking as he did.
“Sometime later, Jeanie still wasn’t waking up, and I heard someone yelling. Someone angry. Mattolo wasn’t up yet, so it wasn’t him. I was surprised when older Mattolo walked in, still shouting. This was the Mattolo I knew, and I realized I’d blasted his kid. I was okay with that.”
“Mattolo stopped, saw what he saw, and just like his kid, he leveled his finger at me, and started moving toward me.”
“I still wasn’t interested, and I think I said ‘No,’ and… I don’t know… I don’t remember after that?” Corso looked confused now.
“I think… I think I shot him? I had my gun in my pocket, not even a holster… I shot him?” He was asking us, looking back and forth.
We couldn’t answer him, and we both knew it. This was being recorded, and it was still an interview.
“What do you remember next?” I asked him.
Corso paused for a moment, his eyes scanning across the floor and back.
“I think… yeah, it was the hospital. I was in the hospital. I was cuffed to a bed, and there was like five cops… I remember a nurse handing me a cup of water, and telling me to drink slow. I think I asked where Jeanie was? Maybe…”
“I didn’t feel like talking. I was just kind of numb. I remember telling a doctor-type I was okay, and pushing away his hand when he was shining a light in my eyes.”
“Things are kind of fuzzy. I really remember talking to you guys, early. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your names?”
++++++
The footage came in. The Chief called us in to take a look.
It was close to what Corso said. Not exact, but it lined up.
We watched the bedroom cam first.
It showed Mark Mattolo Junior coming in, he was carrying the top half of Jeanie Corso, one of his friends had her legs. She was very unconscious.
They got her undressed, taking their time with her bra and panties. Junior let his hand linger in places, after they got her on the bed, and flipped her over. They were talking to each other, making comments about her looks, and taking shots from a bottle of vodka. One slapped her butt, hard enough to leave a red mark.
Then they attached the cuffs, which Junior pulled out of his parents closet. The bedframe was the anchor points. She was spread eagle, and the camera caught her vagina prominently.
None of the young men ever looked up at the camera, I don’t think they knew it was there. It’s hard to not look at it if something like this is happening, and you aren’t practiced.
They continued their discussion, and Junior revealed that with the footage, after some editing, he’d be able to get Jeanie to sex-up the three of them, or he’d tell her he’d put the footage out in the school. He was only going to be there another year, and he wanted some fun before he left to get ‘college pussy.’ The other two laughed, thinking this would be cool. Then he pulled out his cellphone, and started taking pictures and video. “Pussy on tap.”
Then Junior makes a shushing motion, and they stop talking.
“Ah, shit. It’s her brother. Fuck.” Junior said, then left the room.
The other two, left behind, talked to themselves, while one of them pulls out his cellphone, plays with it a moment, then places it somewhere out of sight, under the camera. Probably on the chest of drawers under the camera. That was the other footage. We’d see that after this.
A few minutes later, Junior comes back into the room. They discuss Junior finding Shawn, and how he ‘shut the little fucker up,’ and threw him into the closet. Again.
Then comes ten minutes of the three inspecting, but really… they were getting a good look at Jeanie. There was a lot of poking, and using fingers. They discussed what they were doing, laughing, occasionally taking a drink of vodka, and to my eyes, racking up charge after charge.
Then there’s a subdued crashing sound, and the light from the hallway, a rectangle on the floor of the bedroom, starts blinking.
The young men stop what they were doing, and ask the relevant ‘what was that?’ questions, without doing anything.
Then a male voice yells out ‘SHAWN’ and you can see the trio start to get nervous.
A couple more yells of ‘SHAWN’ and the two who weren’t Junior bolt.
A minute or so later, during which time Junior is looking nervously back and forth from the door to Jeanie, one time looking like he was starting to undo a handcuff, things changed. Junior suddenly focused on the door, but we couldn’t see what was going on there.
Junior changed his bearing, going to aggressive. It was an act, you could tell if you knew what to look for, and Palumbo and I did. The kid was scared. He pointed his finger at someone and asked ‘Who the fuck are you? Get the hell out of my house! Get out before I fuck you up!’ and then he came around the bed from the far side from the door, and started toward whoever was there.
He was just lengthening his stride, when there was a flash, and then there were two pronged wires in Juniors chest. Junior went rigid, his hands clenching in front of his chest, and he toppled sideways. He spun slightly as he fell, his chest hitting the bedframe, he bounced slightly, then he was on the floor. He was screaming in pain, and that’s when John Corso walked into view.
Corso walked in, and told Junior to ‘shut up,’ which he didn’t do. His eyes were on Jeanie the entire time, it looked like. He told Junior to shut up one more time, and when that didn’t happen, he stepped up, and stomped on Junior. Once on the high shoulder, and once on the head. Junior went limp and quiet.
John Corso dropped his taser then, he’d been discharging the entire time, stepped to the bed, and he asked his daughter if she was okay. He touched her face, then held his hand under her nose. Then he got busy, undoing the cuffs holding her. He talked to her the entire time, telling her she was going to be okay, then asking her, begging her, to wake up.
Once she was unshackled, he lifter her up a little, slid himself under her, drew her to him, and held her. All the while talking and begging. He was rocking back and forth as he did so, Jeanie was limp in his arms.
I’m no stranger to seeing and feeling desperation, and this was the real deal. This was a father dying inside.
This went on a bit, and the Chief was merciful, he fast-forwarded, sparing us.
Then Mark Mattolo, Senior, appeared in the camera view.
Mattolo looked pointedly at his son, on the floor beside the bed, but made no move toward him. He focused on John Corso.
“You stupid fuck!” Mattolo yelled, his finger leveling at his son. “Did you do that?! That’s my future! What did you do?!”
John Corso wasn’t interested. His world was too small at that moment.
“DEAD!” Mattolo shouted, now pointing at Corso. “I’m going to kill you!”
John Corso noticed this, sort of. His head tilted a little, and his left arm stayed cradling his daughter, but his right hand moved.
It wasn’t the smoothest draw I’d ever seen, but it was quick. Corso never trained his central vision on Mattolo, who had stopped advancing as soon as he saw Corso clear the gun.
What was smooth was how Corso hit the safety, aimed almost without looking, and snapped off the first shot. It caught Mattolo high, it looked like the left pectoral, and the shot man spun slightly.
The next shot caught Mattolo in the shoulder, which was occupying the same space that his pec had been a moment earlier.
Mattolo fell sideways, the round pushing him, and Coroso’s gun tracked him, Corso himself still watching him, at best, out of his peripheral vision.
Corso emptied the magazine of nine rounds at his long-time enemy, never looking at him fully.
When the last round found it’s target, and the gun let him know it had no more to give, John Corso dropped it from his outstretched hand, where it landed on the bed. Then he once again used both arms to hold his little girl, and asked her again to wake up.
He promised her that if she woke up, he’d take her and Shawn away from there.
Seven minutes later, two uniformed police entered the room, weapons drawn.
++++++
The cell cam footage matched up to the overhead camera.
It seems Mitchel Wright, owner of the phone and cornerback, wanted some video of his own. He’d propped his phone on the dresser, video app on, so he could have his own memories.
Once the techs on the scene had the phone in hand, they learned who owned it, and did a search of names online, filtered to local Hish School football.
It took thirty seconds to identify the other perp.
Then Matsuda called in to the Chief, and gave him a fast summary of what he’d found, and what was happening.
++++++
John Corso was being held until morning, but it was in protective custody.
One of the perps had been rounded up. Mitchel Wright was still at large, having failed to return home that night. His parents were worried. He wasn’t answering his phone.
In the morning, John Corso was taken to the hospital, where he was reunited with his children.
I wasn’t there, but it’s not hard to guess how that went.
++++++
Jean Mattolo was taken into custody, and was assigned a public defender. She was largely unresponsive, she’d gone into shock herself, supposedly.
I didn’t quite believe it. I’d seen catatonia faked before, and this looked like an act to me. Not being a medical doctor, my opinion didn’t count, preferring to err on the side of procedure. She was put into the secure wing at the hospital.
Hunter Mattolo was taken by Child Services. He was pretty unhappy I was told.
Mark Mattolo, Junior, had a broken clavicle, a badly bruised scapula, a broken zygomatic bone and the maxilla bone to match it… commonly known as ‘the cheek bones.’ The concussion was sort of anti-climactic. He woke, cuffed to his bed, and in a bad mood.
++++++
Once the overhead camera footage was checked, that opened the way for the rest of the contents of the server to be checked.
It seemed the Mattolo’s liked ‘Naughty Teacher’ role-play. It was obvious both Jean and Mark Senior knew about the camera, they’d refer to it in videos, while they played. The server wasn’t set to be connected to the internet, this was their own private collection of kink.
Nothing illegal about that.
++++++
Shawn Corso’s phone was found under his bed.
He’d thrown it there, the first time he’d heard Mark Mattolo Junior kick his door. He had been afraid that he’d get a beating from Junior if he was found with it.
He hadn’t realized that the drunk teen was going to assault him, breaking his nose, just for annoying him.
After abusing the ten-year-old, Junior then handcuffed him, wrapped duct tape around his head and mouth to keep him from talking, and threw him into the closet which he then locked. Like he’d done a dozen times previously.
++++++
“Okay, I think that one went right,” the Chief said at the follow-up briefing. “We corrected a mistake the courts made, we rescued some kids, caught some bad guys, kept a dedicated father out of jail, and none of us got hurt. I’m good with it.”
That was the general idea for all of us.
Now if the ADA didn’t fuck it up, it would be all-around good.
Family Court was going to get dragged through the mud over this one.
++++++
I stood out on the tiny landing of my apartment, in my sweats, and watched the traffic on the street below me.
The John Corso case was on my mind, not just for what it was, but because it had set off alarms in my head and heart.
Sucking it up, I picked my phone of the edge of the wall, and hit dial for my ex-wife’s number.
It rang, and rang, and on the fifth ring, the line went active.
“Yo,” said the voice I didn’t want to hear.
“Lamarr.” I said into the line.
“‘Ey, Damar, wassup bro?” said the man I once called friend, back when we ran together as kids.
“Can I talk to Shawna?” I asked, not feeling like I needed to be polite to this guy.
“Nah, bro. She ain’t talkin’ to you.” Lamarr laughingly told me.
I had to take a couple of breaths.
“Put her on, Lamarr.” I told him.
“Ahh, listen atchoo, getting’ that bass on. Well, more bass.” Lamarr laughed. “She don’ want to talk to you. Anyway, I got her phone, y’know?”
“Put her on.” I said. “Or I’m comin’ over, you feel me?”
“Nah, you ain’t doin’ that, and I don’ feel ya.” Lamarr said, a bit more serious now. “You still a cop, you divorced, and this ain’t your weekend for DL. You ain’ gonna go against the court, and risk that nice little snitch-ass job.”
So far, Lamarr was right.
I had more rules keeping me away from my ex-wife and son than a civilian.
DL, Damar Lord Freeman, my eleven year old son, was starting to turn into a hood-rat.
My ex, Shawna, after divorcing me, had taken up with my ‘old bro’ Lamarr.
As kids in school, we’d hung, and been bros for a few years. Lamarr and Damar. Yeah, we heard about that.
I’d had parents who kept me on a tight leash, and refused to let me get trapped by stereotypes, our money situation, and what people thought were our limits.
Lamarr had a drunk 70’s-was-my-best-time father, and a ho of a mother.
He went streets, I went to school.
You can guess what happened.
Now Lamarr was a weird thing… he was a banger who made good… basically a gangster who got away with it, and learned.
You have no idea how unhappy I was when I found out Shawna had hooked up with him. Then they were living together.
It wasn’t long after that, my son started developing an attitude. He got worse with time.
Two months ago he was caught on a theft charge. He’d been stealing cheese crunchies from Wallyworld. When the cops who responded tried to do their job, DL had given them a lot of attitude, claiming they couldn’t do anything to him, because he was a minor.
DL was wrong.
Shawna blew the whole thing off, saying he was just being a kid. I wasn’t so sure. He was sounding more and more like Lamarr. Doing the things Lamarr did. I remembered those things.
“Let me talk to DL.”
“Naw, bro. Down Low don’ wanna talk to you neither.” I was told. “He don’ like your cop attitude. You should ease up on my little man, he’s jus’ bein’ a kid.”
“Your little man’?” I asked, my voice turning hostile, which I’m sure amused Lamarr.