CHAPTER 1 - INTERROGATION ROOM, DAY 8, AFTERNOON

JERSEY - Looking back at the events of the past week, I'm surprised that I've survived this long. Now, for whatever I need to do next, I hope my luck holds out that much longer...

We are inside a police interrogation room. The room is stale, hot, and cramped. Ther are three chairs, on card table, a single light, and three occupants. Two detectives and a suspect.

The first Detective is Roy Moore. He's been with the Motor City Police for almost fifteen years. There's precious little he hasn't seen, and precious little bribes he's ever turned down. A greasy haircut and a toothpick in mouth set his style as a bit of a slob.

The second Detective is John Gresham. A old flatfoot who made his Detective badge a year previous, he works hard into solving cases, even if it means fingering the wrong person. He believes in solving cases more than serving justice, since bonuses are based on arrests and convictions. He is smoking.

The suspect is Jersey Gibson. A younger man in plain ordinary clothing, Jersey is the only one sitting down, and doing it calmly. He knows why he is in the room with the two detectives, but he can play stupid. It's all part of the act, anyhow.

Detective ROY MOORE - So where were you on the night of the fifteenth?

JERSEY - That was last Friday, right?

Jersey smiles, and puts on the idiot act a little strongly.

Detective ROY MOORE - Yes...

Jersey looks away, at the two way mirror.

JERSEY - I was watching a movie.

Detective JOHN GRESHAM - Really?

JERSEY - Yup. I still got the ticket stub in my wallet.

(pause)

That is, if you'd let me get it out of the holding area and show it to you.

Detective Gresham blows smoke into Jersey's face. He looks to Detective Moore, then back at Jersey.

Detective JOHN GRESHAM - I don't believe you.

JERSEY - Awww, isn't that sweet? The movie theater is called Salone's XXX Theater, about two miles from the shootout you keep asking me about. Which the movie was on during it.

(pause)

Now unless you got an eyewitness or my prints on a gun, then my alibi stick as to me spanking it, instead of shooting people.

Jersey watches both Detectives eyeball each other. He knew they had nothing on him, and as he said, the alibi would stick. No one would finger him as being there. Plus there'd be no fingerprints. Jersey knew that for a fact.

JERSEY - So when you letting me go?

A few hours later, Jersey is walking out of the Police Station, the sun slowly setting on the Motor City

JERSEY - If what had happened to me hadn't of happened, this might have been a cause of concern. Now, it's only just a small thing on a growing list of grievances. I have more important things to do besides hide from the local police. Like trying to find the man who framed me...

06/12/2005

Posted on 06/13/2005
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