Silt, Denver Cereal Volume 8 (30 page)

“
I’m starting to like
you,” Agent Angie said.

He smiled.

“
One more thing,” Agent
Angie said. “You need a PR person on this. I know it sounds crazy,
but if you really want to prosecute, you’re going to have to manage
the jury starting right now.”

“
Any ideas who?” Colin
asked.

“
No, but I bet he does,”
Agent Angie gestured to Seth.

He nodded.

“
You know where to reach
me,” Agent Angie gave each of them a hard look. She got up and left
the room.

The men sat around the table for a moment
looking at each other.

“
I guess that’s it,” Seth
said. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

The men nodded to Seth and left the room.
Colin lingered to talk to Seth.

“
How goes the movie
making?” Colin asked.

“
Good,” Seth nodded.
“Done.”

“
And Lizzie?” Colin
asked.

“
She and Schmidty are
staying in California for now,” Seth said. “Ava and I are home for
a while.”

Colin nodded.

“
How is Connor?” Seth
asked.

Colin gave him a broad smile.

“
I’m thrilled for you,”
Seth said.

Colin nodded.

“
What would you do if it
was your son?” Seth asked.

“
I . . .
only hope my sons would never get involved,” Colin said. “But if he
was? I’d stand by him while he felt the consequences. That’s kind
of my job as his parent.”

“
I feel for the parents
who are finding out that their sons are involved in this in any
way,” Seth said.

“
Heartbreaking,” Colin
said.

Seth nodded and they left the room.

~~~~~~~~

Thursday afternoon—4:05 p.m.

“
I don’t know why you even
bothered,” Melinda flipped her hair and Nash scowled.

“
You said to meet you
after school,” Nash repeated what he’d said three times. “We were
going to walk to my house, do our homework, and go to a
movie.”

“
That was before I saw
you,” Melinda said.

Nash looked behind him.

“
Right now?” Nash
asked.

“
At the Fifteenth Street
Bridge,” Melinda crossed her arms. “My mom said, ‘Isn’t that Nash?’
and I saw you.”

“
Looking over the bridge?”
Nash asked.

“
With that girl,” Melinda
said.

“
What girl?” Nash asked.
“My brother Charlie was helping the police with something
and . . .”

“
And what’s all this with
your
brother
Charlie?” Melinda shook her head. “You don’t have a brother.
I checked.”

“
With who?” Nash
asked.

“
With everybody,” Melinda
said. “You only have a sister—Noelle. That’s all. One
sister.”

“
My
dad . . .”

“
Sure, go ahead, blame
your lies on your dad,” Melinda said.

Nash squinted at Melinda.

“
What?” Melinda
asked.

“
What what?”

“
Why did you look at me
like that?” Melinda asked.

“
Because I don’t know
what’s going on. You seem to know what’s going on, but for whatever
reason, you aren’t telling me.”

“
Hmpft,” Melinda turned
slightly away from him.

“
What’s going on?” Nash
asked.

“
I saw
you
and
that girl
,” Melinda said.

“
What girl?” Nash
asked.

“
I don’t know what girl,”
Melinda said. “Are there more than one? What? Are there ten girls?
Twenty? What’s wrong with you?”

“
What girl did you see me
with?” Nash asked. “My sister Sissy? Noelle? One of Sissy’s
friends? Noelle’s friends? Uh . . .”

“
Oh,” Melinda said. “She’s
one of Noelle’s friends?”

“
I don’t know what you’re
talking about so it could be
any
girl,” Nash said.

“
There are lots of girls?”
Melinda gaped at Nash. Her face went bright red and tears sprang
from her eyes.

“
In the world? Yes, there
are lots of girls,” Nash said.

“
I don’t want to go out
with you anymore,” Melinda said.

She spun in place and stomped off in the
direction of her house. Stunned, Nash watched her go. She walked
two blocks before meeting a group of her girlfriends. The girls’
angry and accusing faces turned to glare at Nash. Still not sure
what he’d done, Nash blushed bright red. The girls flipped their
hair in unison and walked toward Melinda’s house. Nash stared at
them until they turned the corner. He began the slow walk home.
Alone.

~~~~~~~~

Thursday afternoon—4:45 p.m.

Bumpy opened the exam room door and went out
into the hall. He scowled. Usually his wife, and nurse, Dionne was
waiting here to tell him which exam room to go to next. Dionne was
nowhere to be found.

He looked in his office. He glanced in the
kitchen.

He looked at his watch. He hadn’t left work
before seven in more than twenty years. Hard working people needed
doctors who could see them early and late.

Hearing voices, he went toward the front of
the office. Dionne was standing in the doorway to the waiting room.
He came up behind her and put his hands on her hips.

She looked up and scowled at him.

“
What did I do?” he
asked.

She shook her head.

“
There he is,” a woman’s
voice came from the lobby. “You go on. You go on and tell Dr. Bumpy
what you did. Go on.”

A medium sized woman dragged her glaring son
from a chair and pushed him toward the door. Bumpy glanced into the
waiting room.

The chairs were filled with boys and young
men. Dressed in low riding jeans that put their boxer shorts on
display and jackets two sizes too big, none of the boys looked up
at him. Their mothers circled around the room like sharks. He could
almost taste the anger in the room.

“
Uh huh,” another woman
said. “You ain’t going to talk to Doctor Bumpy before he
does.”

The woman kicked the chair out from under
her son. He fell on the ground.

“
Get yourself up,” the
woman said.

“
Scum like them deserve to
slither on the ground,” another woman said.

The mothers started kicking the chairs out
from under their sons.

“
Whoa!” Bumpy said. “Stop.
Everyone stop. Stop.”

He grabbed a tiny woman who was kicking her
son’s chair over and over again in an attempt to knock it out from
under him. When she looked up at him, he saw her rage and
heartbreak. He nodded in acknowledgement and let her go. The moment
he did, she started kicking the chair again. Dionne went to her and
hugged her. The mother started to weep.

“
What’s going on?” Bumpy
asked.

“
This c
reature
used
my
money to purchase videos of poor
girls being raped . . .” The mother kicked her son.
“ . . . and
beaten . . . and . . . who
knows what else. The Denver Police said to bring them in to the
police station, but Dr. Bumpy said if this
creature
ever got in trouble to
bring him to talk to you first.”

“
Mmm hmm,” the mothers
made a sound in general agreement.

“
What are you going to
say, Dr. Bumpy?” the mother said.

“
Should we just kill them
now?” another mother asked.

“
Once a rapist, always a
rapist,” a mother near the corner of the room said.

“
I d’n’t rape nobody,” one
brave boy’s voice cried out in the middle of this.

“
You did just the same,”
his mother said.

“
Just the same,” the
mothers agreed.

“
And I want you to know,
Dr. Bumpy,” a mother near the door to the street said. “Most of the
girls are white girls, but it don’t matter to me. These are
precious children of God’s being violated and abused by
scum.”

The woman swallowed hard before turning to
her son.

“
I did not struggle and
suffer to bring this boy into this world so he could get his
jollies watching any girl—white, black, or purple—get abused like
that.”

Like a fish out of water, the mother gasped
for breath.

“
Mmm hmm,” the other
mothers agreed.

“
I know that in other
cities, they cover it up and say ‘not my good son—it’s the girls
fault.’ But I won’t do that. My son has done wrong and I won’t
stand by and blame some poor defenseless girl for his trouble. He’s
going to jail.”

“
I won’t either,” a mother
near the middle of the room said.

“
No way,” a mother near
the front said.

“
Then that settles it,” a
mother near the door grabbed her son’s jacket and dragged him to
his feet. “You’re going to jail.”

The mothers started hauling their boys
toward the door.

“
Stop!” Bumpy
said.

The women stopped moving.

“
You remember my friend
Seth O’Malley,” Bumpy said. “He came by this afternoon to speak to
me about this very situation.”

“
And what did he say?” a
large woman near the center of the room said.

“
He said that what they
mostly want is information,” Bumpy said. “They want to know who
sold the videos, how much they paid, and when. This is a big deal,
ladies. The FBI and Department of Homeland Security are involved.
No one is going to sweep this under the carpet.”

“
I ain’t gon’ say nothin’”
a boy near the front said.

“
Me neither,” the boys
mumbled around him.

His mother picked him up by the back of his
collar and carried him to Bumpy. She dropped the boy at his
feet.

“
You can castrate him
now,” his mother said.

“
Castrate?” the boy
scooted back from Bumpy.

“
That’s right,” his mother
said. “You’re my son and I say, castrate him.”

“
Cut it off,” another
mother said. The women nodded in agreement. The boys squirmed in
their seats.

“
Gentlemen!” Bumpy pointed
to the back. “Now!”

Chapter Two Hundred and Forty
Sons

The boys scurried through the door to the
exam rooms.

“
You can keep him,” a
mother called from the hallway.

“
You got that right,” the
other mothers agreed.

Bumpy pointed to the largest examination
room at the end of the hallway. A grim line of young men shuffled
and squeezed into the room. Bumpy went in after them and closed the
door. The boys sat next to each other on the exam table. A few sat
in the chairs and others sat on the floor.

Not one dared looked up at him.

“
Any of you involved in
this thing?” Bumpy asked. “You’d better tell me now because if I
find out later, it’s going to be bad for you.”

The boys pointed to a boy named Solomon.
Despite his regal name, the boy was a simpleton. Solomon was a
sweet kid who volunteered at the library twice a week after school
and worked on the sign team at Lipson Construction the rest of the
week. He spent his nights and weekends keeping up in school by
sheer force of will and his mother’s dedication. It was unlikely
the boy even knew what they were talking about. Bumpy scowled at
the boy; Solomon gave him a bright smile.

“
Why?” Bumpy
asked.

“
Don’ really know,” the
boy said. “It’s kind a fun. We get high
and . . .”

Bumpy shook his head and looked away.

“
Dallon, would you show
the video to Solomon?” Bumpy asked.

The boy sitting next to Solomon took out his
phone and played the video. Solomon closed his eyes after the first
few seconds. Bumpy touched Dallon’s arm and he took the phone away.
Bumpy turned to the rest of the boys.

“
What about the rest of
you? You don’t need me to tell you that it’s sick and wrong to
watch those videos. Real men can’t take the violence and cruelty.
And you know, just having the video means you’re involved in a sex
crime.”

“
Not me!” the boy closest
to him yelled. The others nodded in agreement.

“
What’s it going to be?”
Bumpy asked. “You going to do the right thing and help find the
scum responsible for these assaults?”

“
You mean like him?” A boy
near the middle of the room pointed at Solomon. He hadn’t opened
his eyes yet.

“
Don’ do that, man,”
Dallon said.

“
Everybody knows he’s
involved,” another boy said. “Setting the girls up with his
sweetness and knocking them down for his bros.”

“
Come on,” Dallon said.
“How’s he gonna . . .?”

Bumpy looked from Dallon to the other two
boys. Bumpy put his hand on Solomon’s shoulder.

“
You were invited to go
with them?” Bumpy asked.