Bill Harper's 'An Excerpt From The Chase'
Act One
The First Act
The Chase
The time: just past midnight, cold winter of December 1959 The place: downtown Manhattan, the seediest of all underbellies
The name: Detective Bill Harper, who’s asking?
Sweat stains my overcoat and I realize, this outfit costs more than this bastard’s life. Say what you will about the blacks, but these people can run. We’re out in the open now, sprinting down a dirty main street, dodging streetlights and lots of blacks. It’s safe to assume they all have knives, so I juke wildly and make it obvious that I’m armed. The sawed-off shotgun in my hands isn’t exactly police regulation, but desperate times desperate measures.
“Put your god damn hands up and get on the ground!” I scream, but he keeps …show more content…
on moving. A young boy thinks I directed it towards him and hits the floor in the blink of an eye.
He rounds a corner and I think for a frantic moment that I’ve lost him. But no, I catch a glimpse of him redirecting into an alley. I follow. Turning the corner, I see where we’re headed. A dead end. I’ve got him now, I can feel it in my bones.
“I’ve got you now, I can feel it in my bones!” I snarl at him. He turns to face me.
“Please God no! I’ma never done nothin’ wrong in my life, I swear it! Don’t shoot!”
Let me tell you how we got here.
I pick up a call that a black man’s out raping a girl on 42nd street and I drive like I actually give a damn. The description reads: brown pants, sandals, no shirt on, with an afro and a gold tooth. I’m scanning, scanning the alleys and then I hit 37th street. Granted, it wasn’t the same street that they mentioned in the call but I figure I better not take any chances. Because I see him standing right there, talking to his buddies. He was a black man, alright, clean shaven with a buzzcut. He wore a gray pinstripe suit and tie, and as he laughed I noticed his perfect pearly whites. The cocksucker. There he was, in a circle of blacks that looked just like him (I have a theory on that but we’ll get there eventually), yakking on about God knows what, probably the girl he just raped or the heroin he smuggled in his asshole last week. I was on him in an instant, my sawed-off in his face. This may have been where I had my misstep. I opened my mouth a moment too soon and shouted “Now you die, you black bastard!” When he saw the weapon and realized it was aimed towards him he bolted. I think it’s important to clarify that I called him a “black bastard” to specify who exactly it was that I was talking to. Had there been any white people around, they might have assumed the threat had been for them if I had just said “You bastard!” It’s a damn shame that people misinterpret these things so easily. And so he ran and I took off after him. We continued on for blocks, swerving in and out of warehouses and coffee shops, sometimes mere inches away from each other. I hopped fences and crawled under porches, but eventually we were staring right at each other. “Please! I don’t even know what I done!” he begs. “Shut up! You know exactly what you did. You’re a wanted rapist, and now you’re about to be a wanted corpse.” His expression changes. “I ain’t never raped nobody in my life! You got the wrong man, mister!” His act was almost convincing. “If you aren’t my man then why do you fit the description to a T?” He begins to sob violently. “You got the wrong-“ BANG BANG. I give him two to the face. And it ain’t because he’s black, either.
Repercussions
“What the hell is wrong with you, Harper?!” Chief Greenfield wasn’t happy.
I could see it in his big, sweaty eyes. “The only thing that’s wrong with me is a big gun and an even bigger heart, chief.” “Don’t give me that bullshit! Do you even know what you’ve done? What you did last night?!” “I brought down a rapist the only way I knew how. It may have been harsh, but that’s justice.” “You god damn shit! You shot an unarmed man with an unregistered sawed-off twice in an alley!” “The man definitely had arms, boss.” Greenfield sneered. “You fool! He was an innocent man! He looked nothing like the rapist! The rapist, who, by the way, is still at large!” I was more than a little bit confused. I had been positive that I found the perp. “Now wait a minute-“ “No, you wait! You just sit the hell down and wait. You, god damn you, you blew that man’s face off. The man has no face …show more content…
now.” “Is he alive?” “How fucking stupid can you be, Harper?!” That was a mean thing for him to say.
Maybe he should have been the one to lose his fat pink face. “What the hell did you just say?” Shit. I hadn’t realized that that was out loud. He shook his head. “Why were you carrying around a shotgun, anyway? What happened to your pistol? You know, the one you’re supposed to use on duty!” “I dropped it in the toilet.” That wasn’t true. I had given it to my nephew for his fifth birthday, but I wasn’t going to tell Chief Greenfield that. I didn’t want to look like an idiot. “Do you understand what this means? For you, for me, for the department?” “No. I have absolutely no idea what this means.” “It means you’re suspended. We can’t have a jackass like you ruining everything we work for. Give me your badge and…” “Toilet.” “God damn you.” He stood up and started pacing back and forth. It probably wasn’t a good time to tell him that he looked like a manatee. “You look like-“ “-a manatee, I know. The wife tells me every night. What you need to understand is that you’re going to be crucified for this. You ever been on trial before? Didn’t think so. Here’s what we’re going to do. The department’s going to set you up with a lawyer, his name’s John Braxton and he’s the best. You’re going to meet him tomorrow at this address,
alright?” He handed me a slip of paper. That’s when I knew it was serious. “Alright. I’ll meet the guy, but no promises.” I turned to leave. “Wayne Douglas.” The gay porno star? “Who?” I asked. “The man you killed. The man whose face you blew off. Wayne Douglas.” I thought about it. “Chief, let me ask you something. If I blew his face off, then how did the family identify him?” “What do you mean? He was their son.” He didn’t get it. “Sure he was. But a black man without a face? That’s virtually impossible to identify. How’d they do it?” He smiled sadly. “That’s exactly the kind of thing that you won’t want to be saying in court.”
A Man of the Law
I made my way to the courthouse at noon, an hour late for my meeting with Braxton. I wasn’t as nervous as I supposed I should have been, but I honestly saw nothing to worry about. Cops kill people every day, and I was no exception. The way I saw it, when a man gets arrested there’s no way to tell if he’s guilty or not. I could have shot a convicted felon or a defenseless infant; it’s all the same. The judicial system in this country is absolutely corrupt, and I was banking on that corruption to carry me safely home after this trial.
To be honest, I was a little nervous about meeting this John Braxton. I’m no fan of lawyers; I don’t think anybody is. Not even lawyers. The only thing those bastards are good at is getting goddamn murderers back on the streets.
It was good to be back on the streets. Losing my badge might not have been a lucky thing, but it felt liberating not to have anybody’s life in my hands besides my own. On my walk I saw a man beating his wife and I just smiled and thought to myself, “That’s not my job today.” I walked into the courtroom. Braxton was waiting there with open arms.
“What the hell took you so long, Harper? We were supposed to meet an hour ago.”
“I plead the fifth.” I was hilarious.
He smiled. “I only got here ten minutes ago. I was trying to test your patience.”
“I once waited nine months just to see a beautiful baby boy. I’m as patient as a man can be.”
“Come to my office.” I followed him.
From what I could tell, we were both extremely intelligent men. I could see us either becoming best friends or worst enemies. He had this look about him: Smooth skin, perfectly trimmed black hair, that two-day “I didn’t know I was sexy” stubble. I’d bet money that he was well endowed. But from a legal perspective, God only knows what I should have expected. We made our way to the office and I took a seat.
“Now I’m going to ask you a few questions before we get started. I’d like to debrief today and begin to develop a strategy for the courtroom. First off, what is your full name?” I knew what he was after. “I refuse to answer without a lawyer present.”
“But I am your lawyer.”
“Well then get me a new lawyer, and I refuse to answer any more questions until he’s here.”
He grinned, wide and pearly. “That’s what I’m talking about! Never give them the satisfaction unless you absolutely have to. From now on you should contact me before you do anything potentially…”
“…career-damning?”
Another smile. “Exactly, you’re already getting the hang of this. If we want to win this trial then we’re going to have to work like dogs. No more fuckups, no more risks, we have to create an airtight defense.” And now a frown. “Tight as a baby’s bottom.”
“Let me ask you something,” I was hoping that somebody could answer my burning questions. “How is shooting an unarmed civilian any different than shooting a dangerous criminal? Besides the fact that one is harmlessly innocent and the other deserves to die.”
He thought about it. “Well besides that, there is no real difference. I like that, Bill. Maybe we’ll use that in our opening statement. Airtight.”
“As a baby’s bottom.” This case was going to win itself. “Now Bill, I can tell that you’re an intelligent man. You’re asking all the right questions so far, but we need to worry about the answers you’re going to give. I’ll cover your ass as much as I can, but eventually they’ll hit you with something that I can’t object to. Here’s what well do: I’ll pretend to be the prosecuting lawyer, and you try to answer my questions in a way that’s not only honest, but makes you look good for the jury.” If there was one thing I was good at, it was dodging bullets. “Hit me,” I said. Braxton furrowed his brow. “Mr. Harper, where were you on the 17th of December, 1959?” “A person doesn’t usually remember his location on a given date unless he has something to hide, wouldn’t you say? That being said, I was downtown in Manhattan, on patrol.” “How many times did you shoot Wayne Douglas?” “So many times.” God damn it. Braxton went purple. “We have some work to do.”
The First Act
The Chase
The time: just past midnight, cold winter of December 1959 The place: downtown Manhattan, the seediest of all underbellies
The name: Detective Bill Harper, who’s asking?
Sweat stains my overcoat and I realize, this outfit costs more than this bastard’s life. Say what you will about the blacks, but these people can run. We’re out in the open now, sprinting down a dirty main street, dodging streetlights and lots of blacks. It’s safe to assume they all have knives, so I juke wildly and make it obvious that I’m armed. The sawed-off shotgun in my hands isn’t exactly police regulation, but desperate times desperate measures.
“Put your god damn hands up and get on the ground!” I scream, but he keeps …show more content…
on moving. A young boy thinks I directed it towards him and hits the floor in the blink of an eye.
He rounds a corner and I think for a frantic moment that I’ve lost him. But no, I catch a glimpse of him redirecting into an alley. I follow. Turning the corner, I see where we’re headed. A dead end. I’ve got him now, I can feel it in my bones.
“I’ve got you now, I can feel it in my bones!” I snarl at him. He turns to face me.
“Please God no! I’ma never done nothin’ wrong in my life, I swear it! Don’t shoot!”
Let me tell you how we got here.
I pick up a call that a black man’s out raping a girl on 42nd street and I drive like I actually give a damn. The description reads: brown pants, sandals, no shirt on, with an afro and a gold tooth. I’m scanning, scanning the alleys and then I hit 37th street. Granted, it wasn’t the same street that they mentioned in the call but I figure I better not take any chances. Because I see him standing right there, talking to his buddies. He was a black man, alright, clean shaven with a buzzcut. He wore a gray pinstripe suit and tie, and as he laughed I noticed his perfect pearly whites. The cocksucker. There he was, in a circle of blacks that looked just like him (I have a theory on that but we’ll get there eventually), yakking on about God knows what, probably the girl he just raped or the heroin he smuggled in his asshole last week. I was on him in an instant, my sawed-off in his face. This may have been where I had my misstep. I opened my mouth a moment too soon and shouted “Now you die, you black bastard!” When he saw the weapon and realized it was aimed towards him he bolted. I think it’s important to clarify that I called him a “black bastard” to specify who exactly it was that I was talking to. Had there been any white people around, they might have assumed the threat had been for them if I had just said “You bastard!” It’s a damn shame that people misinterpret these things so easily. And so he ran and I took off after him. We continued on for blocks, swerving in and out of warehouses and coffee shops, sometimes mere inches away from each other. I hopped fences and crawled under porches, but eventually we were staring right at each other. “Please! I don’t even know what I done!” he begs. “Shut up! You know exactly what you did. You’re a wanted rapist, and now you’re about to be a wanted corpse.” His expression changes. “I ain’t never raped nobody in my life! You got the wrong man, mister!” His act was almost convincing. “If you aren’t my man then why do you fit the description to a T?” He begins to sob violently. “You got the wrong-“ BANG BANG. I give him two to the face. And it ain’t because he’s black, either.
Repercussions
“What the hell is wrong with you, Harper?!” Chief Greenfield wasn’t happy.
I could see it in his big, sweaty eyes. “The only thing that’s wrong with me is a big gun and an even bigger heart, chief.” “Don’t give me that bullshit! Do you even know what you’ve done? What you did last night?!” “I brought down a rapist the only way I knew how. It may have been harsh, but that’s justice.” “You god damn shit! You shot an unarmed man with an unregistered sawed-off twice in an alley!” “The man definitely had arms, boss.” Greenfield sneered. “You fool! He was an innocent man! He looked nothing like the rapist! The rapist, who, by the way, is still at large!” I was more than a little bit confused. I had been positive that I found the perp. “Now wait a minute-“ “No, you wait! You just sit the hell down and wait. You, god damn you, you blew that man’s face off. The man has no face …show more content…
now.” “Is he alive?” “How fucking stupid can you be, Harper?!” That was a mean thing for him to say.
Maybe he should have been the one to lose his fat pink face. “What the hell did you just say?” Shit. I hadn’t realized that that was out loud. He shook his head. “Why were you carrying around a shotgun, anyway? What happened to your pistol? You know, the one you’re supposed to use on duty!” “I dropped it in the toilet.” That wasn’t true. I had given it to my nephew for his fifth birthday, but I wasn’t going to tell Chief Greenfield that. I didn’t want to look like an idiot. “Do you understand what this means? For you, for me, for the department?” “No. I have absolutely no idea what this means.” “It means you’re suspended. We can’t have a jackass like you ruining everything we work for. Give me your badge and…” “Toilet.” “God damn you.” He stood up and started pacing back and forth. It probably wasn’t a good time to tell him that he looked like a manatee. “You look like-“ “-a manatee, I know. The wife tells me every night. What you need to understand is that you’re going to be crucified for this. You ever been on trial before? Didn’t think so. Here’s what we’re going to do. The department’s going to set you up with a lawyer, his name’s John Braxton and he’s the best. You’re going to meet him tomorrow at this address,
alright?” He handed me a slip of paper. That’s when I knew it was serious. “Alright. I’ll meet the guy, but no promises.” I turned to leave. “Wayne Douglas.” The gay porno star? “Who?” I asked. “The man you killed. The man whose face you blew off. Wayne Douglas.” I thought about it. “Chief, let me ask you something. If I blew his face off, then how did the family identify him?” “What do you mean? He was their son.” He didn’t get it. “Sure he was. But a black man without a face? That’s virtually impossible to identify. How’d they do it?” He smiled sadly. “That’s exactly the kind of thing that you won’t want to be saying in court.”
A Man of the Law
I made my way to the courthouse at noon, an hour late for my meeting with Braxton. I wasn’t as nervous as I supposed I should have been, but I honestly saw nothing to worry about. Cops kill people every day, and I was no exception. The way I saw it, when a man gets arrested there’s no way to tell if he’s guilty or not. I could have shot a convicted felon or a defenseless infant; it’s all the same. The judicial system in this country is absolutely corrupt, and I was banking on that corruption to carry me safely home after this trial.
To be honest, I was a little nervous about meeting this John Braxton. I’m no fan of lawyers; I don’t think anybody is. Not even lawyers. The only thing those bastards are good at is getting goddamn murderers back on the streets.
It was good to be back on the streets. Losing my badge might not have been a lucky thing, but it felt liberating not to have anybody’s life in my hands besides my own. On my walk I saw a man beating his wife and I just smiled and thought to myself, “That’s not my job today.” I walked into the courtroom. Braxton was waiting there with open arms.
“What the hell took you so long, Harper? We were supposed to meet an hour ago.”
“I plead the fifth.” I was hilarious.
He smiled. “I only got here ten minutes ago. I was trying to test your patience.”
“I once waited nine months just to see a beautiful baby boy. I’m as patient as a man can be.”
“Come to my office.” I followed him.
From what I could tell, we were both extremely intelligent men. I could see us either becoming best friends or worst enemies. He had this look about him: Smooth skin, perfectly trimmed black hair, that two-day “I didn’t know I was sexy” stubble. I’d bet money that he was well endowed. But from a legal perspective, God only knows what I should have expected. We made our way to the office and I took a seat.
“Now I’m going to ask you a few questions before we get started. I’d like to debrief today and begin to develop a strategy for the courtroom. First off, what is your full name?” I knew what he was after. “I refuse to answer without a lawyer present.”
“But I am your lawyer.”
“Well then get me a new lawyer, and I refuse to answer any more questions until he’s here.”
He grinned, wide and pearly. “That’s what I’m talking about! Never give them the satisfaction unless you absolutely have to. From now on you should contact me before you do anything potentially…”
“…career-damning?”
Another smile. “Exactly, you’re already getting the hang of this. If we want to win this trial then we’re going to have to work like dogs. No more fuckups, no more risks, we have to create an airtight defense.” And now a frown. “Tight as a baby’s bottom.”
“Let me ask you something,” I was hoping that somebody could answer my burning questions. “How is shooting an unarmed civilian any different than shooting a dangerous criminal? Besides the fact that one is harmlessly innocent and the other deserves to die.”
He thought about it. “Well besides that, there is no real difference. I like that, Bill. Maybe we’ll use that in our opening statement. Airtight.”
“As a baby’s bottom.” This case was going to win itself. “Now Bill, I can tell that you’re an intelligent man. You’re asking all the right questions so far, but we need to worry about the answers you’re going to give. I’ll cover your ass as much as I can, but eventually they’ll hit you with something that I can’t object to. Here’s what well do: I’ll pretend to be the prosecuting lawyer, and you try to answer my questions in a way that’s not only honest, but makes you look good for the jury.” If there was one thing I was good at, it was dodging bullets. “Hit me,” I said. Braxton furrowed his brow. “Mr. Harper, where were you on the 17th of December, 1959?” “A person doesn’t usually remember his location on a given date unless he has something to hide, wouldn’t you say? That being said, I was downtown in Manhattan, on patrol.” “How many times did you shoot Wayne Douglas?” “So many times.” God damn it. Braxton went purple. “We have some work to do.”