Brooklyn Supreme by Robert Reuland

Author:Robert Reuland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abrams
Published: 2021-11-23T00:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-FIVE

In Garrity’s defense Tommy Janus could have gotten Karpatkin’s interview transcript on his own. I wasn’t the only sneak in New York City, and Janus had money and actual influence, so when I walked down the hall to Garrity’s office that afternoon I had no intention to pick a fight. But I wanted to know nonetheless. He was not in, which was probably a good thing. Garrity didn’t return that day and by the following morning I decided I didn’t need to hear him deny it. By then the Brooklyn Daily News had the story. The headline used up a lot of oxygen. Tommy Janus’s motion to dismiss alleged that the People of the State of New York had elicited perjured testimony to secure a murder indictment in a high-profile, politically important prosecution during an election year, an allegation we either believed or ignored according to the color of our ribbon.

I watched from afar, pretending to have no interest, but when Janus’s motion came on before Justice Henry K. Pomeroy two weeks later I made my way to Brooklyn Supreme for old times’ sake, taking a break from another day of doing what I used to do before Georgina hit. I pushed my way through the plaza in front of the courthouse and the well-mannered and mostly homogenous Free Georgina! and Babe factions and made my way up the courthouse steps. Both contingents gave me the same heedful eye as I passed, their faces peering at me beneath the heavy burden of their shared history. The black ribbons knew me, of course, and were formal if not polite, some nodding in recognition, believing I was not saved but savable. The yellow ribbons were somewhat warmer, knowing I was on their side for the time being but for my own purposes and that I would betray them eventually, for that is how it’s been since time immemorial with well-meaning white folks everywhere, as it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, amen.

For twenty minutes before Pomeroy took the bench I stared at the backsides of grown-ups from my seat in the last row of the courtroom, reading the graffiti scratched with keys and bottlecaps on the wooden benches.

DAQWAN FUCK DENISE

83 COPS IS ALL FASHIS

JUSTICE=TRUTH

DONT SHOOT

STACK MONEY BOYS

JUSTICE IS JUST US

Betty Moon came in. I didn’t wave hello, nor did she notice me skulking in the rear like the remedial in class. Jackie Kane never showed. I’d hoped to cross her path, believing our business unfinished. Instead the prosecutor waiting in the well was Montgomery Crimmins, a dark-complected black man of medium height with shoulders like a linebacker, a handsome ordinary face, and a head of neat baby dreads. Tommy Janus stood at the defense table, opening his arms in welcome as two court officers escorted Georgina Reed from the rear door. She sat, handcuffed, not speaking at all to Donny Holtz at the far end of the table. Holtz had been released on his own

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