Too Far

by Jason Starr

  As I told him what happened at my building, he took notes. Or at least I thought he was taking notes. For all I knew he was tweeting.

  But he must’ve been paying attention because when I finished explaining, he said, ‘I understand police officers weren’t injured and no one else was injured. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Well, it sounds like the resisting arrest charge is just some trumped-up bullshit,’ he said. ‘Since you have no priors, I’m confident I can get the charge dropped.’

  He must’ve seen my concerned expression.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘I think you need to know something.’

  ‘Not the words I like to hear, but I’d rather hear it from you than them.’

  I paused, trying to figure out how I wanted to explain this.

  Went with: ‘It has to do with my arrest record.’

  ‘So you have an arrest record.’

  ‘Technically… yes.’

  ‘Technically yes sounds like yes.’

  ‘It wasn’t a major thing,’ I said. ‘I used to drink and there was an incident… a long time ago.’

  ‘How long?’

  ‘Eight years ago. Seven actually. I was at a club downtown and I got into a fight. Well, not a fight – an altercation. I didn’t start the fight, I was just there and I had to defend myself.’

  ‘You hit somebody?’

  ‘Pushed – the manager of the club. Well, that’s what they told me anyway. I blacked out and didn’t even remember everything that happened. There were, well, conflicting accounts. Most people said it was total self-defense. He fell, but he was okay. Minor concussion, few stitches. Anyway, I was arrested.’

  ‘Charged with…’

  ‘Assault. But my lawyer at the time got the charge reduced and I didn’t have to do any time. Like I said, I was drunk. Not that that’s an excuse but… look, what happened yesterday is ridiculous. I wasn’t resisting arrest, I was trying to go home.’

  ‘I hear you, I’m just saying the prior complicates things. I’m sure they know about it, or will know about it. On the plus side, seven or eight years is a long time ago. Assuming what you told me is true and the previous charge was reduced, I don’t think they’ll hold you for resisting arrest, especially when it sounds like it’s a trumped-up charge. But you’ll get a court date and it’ll be hard to get them to drop the charge unless they want to drop it. There’s a chance we’ll have to fight it.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I said. ‘I’ll do whatever you say. I just want to get out of here and see my son.’

  He was tapping on the iPad, probably taking notes. Then he said, ‘You mentioned you used to drink.’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘Are you –’

  ‘In AA, yes.’

  ‘Whatever you do, do not mention that under any circumstances. It can only work against you.’

  I knew exactly where he was coming from. A friend in AA had once told me that if you’re an alcoholic and you get pulled over for speeding the worst thing you could do is mention you’re in the program, as it only makes the cops assume you’ve been drinking again or at least are some kind of degenerate.

  ‘My lips are sealed,’ I said.

  After Freemont told me to ‘let me do the talking,’ he called the guard over, and then the guard led us into a plain room with a desk and a few chairs, similar to the one I’d been in the other night at the downtown precinct.

  ‘The detective’s a prick,’ I said.

  ‘Barasco?’ Freemont said. ‘Never met him before.’

  ‘You’ll see,’ I said. ‘First, he’ll make us wait here. Power trip.’

  As if on cue, Barasco entered, smiling.

  Freemont gave me a look: Guess not.

  ‘Talking about me?’ Barasco asked.

  I was about to say something, but Freemont put his hand on my arm to shut me up.

  ‘I’m Mr Harper’s attorney.’

  ‘I know who you are,’ Barasco said, smiling.

  Barasco remained standing, as there were no more chairs. He was holding a folder.

  ‘If something funny’s going on, please fill me in,’ Freemont said. ‘I could use a laugh.’

  ‘Well, just yesterday your client told me that only guilty people need lawyers, and today, lo and behold, he gets one.’ Then he said to me with a smirk, ‘By the way, you look a little scruffy. What, forgot to shave this morning?’

  Again, Freemont’s hand had to silence me.

  ‘My client is simply exercising his right to counsel.’

  ‘Yeah, exercising his right and getting into more trouble on a daily basis.’

  ‘I didn’t –’ this time I cut myself off.

  ‘Given that my client has never served time for any prior crime, and that no one was injured today, in particular no police officer, we request that the current charge be dropped immediately.’

  With the smirk that I was officially sick of, Barasco said, ‘Look what I just got my hands on.’

  He plopped the folder onto the table.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  ‘Read for yourself.’

  I opened the folder. There was a stack of, maybe, twenty pages. I glanced at the first one:

  FUGITIVE_RED: Hey Rock God! Do you like music? I’m lonely tonight Wanna chat?

  NYCRockGod2: Hey, sorry had to register Yes, love music

  FUGITIVE_RED: Hiii

  FUGITIVE_RED: nice to hear from you :) :)

  NYCRockGod2 : Hey! I know you probably get this a lot, but this is my first time doing this :) :)

  Furious, I said to Barasco, ‘Where did this come from?’

  ‘What is it?’ Freemont was confused.

  ‘Your client’s cheating records,’ Barasco said smugly.

  ‘I never cheated,’ I said.

  ‘You can’t deny it,’ Barasco said. ‘You’re holding the evidence.’

  ‘You didn’t answer my question,’ I said. ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘From Discreet Hookups,’ Barasco said. ‘What you have there is a complete record of every interaction you had with, what was her online name? Oh, yeah, Fugitive Red.’

  ‘Son of a bitch,’ I said, leafing through the pages. Yeah, it was all there.

  ‘Part I found most interesting and, let’s face it, most relevant, is when you talk about how you wanted to tie her up and hit her.’

  ‘You’re taking that out of context,’ I said.

  ‘The vic in this case was beaten and tied up,’ Barasco said. ‘I think that’s as much in context as you can get.’

  ‘We need a chance to review this before we can discuss it any further,’ Freemont said.

  ‘I think your client knows exactly what’s there,’ Barasco said.

  ‘She made me say those things,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah? You were forced, huh?’

  ‘You can tell if you actually read it. She coerced me, egged me on. We got caught up, that’s all.’

  He grabbed the papers and found a page. ‘You wrote to her, here it is – “I can’t wait to tie you up and slap your face like you deserve”.’

  ‘She wanted me to say that,’ I said.

  ‘She asked for it, huh?’ Barasco said.

  ‘My client will not talk about this anymore, period,’ Freemont said.

  Terror hit. I thought I might pass out.

  ‘You didn’t show this to my wife, did you?’ I said.

  ‘What if I did?’ Barasco said.

  I stood facing Barasco. ‘You fucking asshole! You’re just trying to fuck up my life, you sadistic fuck!’

  My saliva sprayed onto Barasco’s face, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care.

  Freemont had gotten up too, and came between us.


  Grabbing my wrist, Freemont said, ‘Calm down, I said calm down.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Barasco said, ‘looks like I was way off base even suggesting the idea that you might have a problem with violence. I mean you’re not giving me any reason to even contemplate such a thing.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Freemont said to me.

  I was still livid, but I complied.

  ‘Okay, you don’t want to talk about the transcripts, we won’t talk about the transcripts,’ Barasco said. ‘Let’s discuss the other matter that your client has attempted to hide from us – his assault charge.’

  I couldn’t hold back, said, ‘I didn’t hide any –’

  But Freemont cut me off with, ‘That’s a previous incident from years ago that isn’t related to this case.’

  ‘I think it’s related,’ Barasco said.

  ‘I’m talking about resisting arrest,’ Freemont said. ‘I’m requesting that you drop the current charge.’

  ‘That’s possible if your client cooperates with my murder investigation, emphasis on if.’ Barasco looked at me and said, ‘Oh, so I had a little chat with your wife. She just got a restraining order against you.’

  Was Barasco lying? Or was he just trying to rattle me? It was hard to tell.

  ‘I just want to see my son,’ I said. ‘He’s probably terrified right now.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ Barasco said. ‘When she divorces you, she’ll get full custody and maybe you won’t even get visitation given your recent behavior. Oh, and I think after this incident, your neighbors might have a different opinion on who the crazy one in your marriage is.’

  While I still suspected Barasco was bullshitting, the idea of this happening – of not being able to see my son – felt too real and horrific to ignore. I wanted to lean across the table and tackle Barasco and beat the crap out of him. I actually saw myself, tackling him, pummeling him in the face.

  But I managed not to budge.

  ‘Do you have specific questions for my client pertaining to the current resisting arrest charge?’ Freemont asked.

  ‘As a matter of fact I do.’ Barasco looked at me. ‘What did you say to your wife to make her want to change the locks? Did you threaten her?’

  ‘Never,’ I said.

  ‘That’s not what she said.’

  Freemont cut in with, ‘What exactly did his wife say my client said?’

  ‘She said he said he was going to “beat the living shit” out of her.’

  Had Maria actually lied to Barasco? It didn’t make sense. It made more sense that Barasco was lying, trying to goad me into incriminating myself.

  ‘I don’t see how any of this pertains to the current charge,’ Freemont said. ‘My client had a right to go up to his apartment. There was no existing restraining order prohibiting him from entering the apartment. He was surprised that he couldn’t get in and raised his voice to get his wife’s attention.’

  ‘He was banging on the door, causing a disturbance,’ Barasco said.

  ‘He feared for his son’s safety,’ Freemont said. ‘He was trying to get into his apartment, which has no relation to the resisting arrest charge. Are the police officers reporting any injuries?’

  ‘Were you drunk today?’ Barasco asked me.

  ‘Another irrelevant question,’ Freemont said.

  ‘I disagree,’ Barasco said. ‘There’s a pattern here. He’s gotten violent and drunk before. Maybe he was drunk the night he murdered Sophie Ward.’

  ‘I didn’t murder her,’ I said.

  Freemont gave me a look that screamed, Shut up. Then he said to Barasco, ‘Regarding yesterday’s incident. If the arresting officers suspected he’d been drinking, why didn’t they give him a breathalyzer?’

  Good question. For a Legal Aid lawyer, Freemont seemed to know his shit. I could’ve done much worse.

  Barasco said to me, ‘Maybe you got drunk on Friday too. Is that what happened? You drink before your date?’

  Freemont said, ‘My client won’t answer any more questions pertaining to the Sophie Ward murder case at this time.’

  ‘Afraid he won’t be able to keep his story straight?’

  ‘Can we please stick to the matter at hand?’ Freemont said.

  After glaring at me for several seconds without saying anything, Barasco got up and left.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said to Freemont. ‘That was –’

  ‘Don’t,’ Freemont said.

  A guard came and led me back to the holding cell.

  Maybe a half-hour later, the guard returned and said, ‘Harper.’

  Ecstatic, I followed the guard to the front of the precinct where Freemont was waiting. After I filled out some paperwork and received my personal items, Freemont and I left the building. Smoggy city air had never seemed so fresh.

  ‘Thank you so, so much,’ I said.

  We walked along Bayard toward Canal, passing Thai and Chinese restaurants and storefronts with neon ‘Bail Bonds’ signage.

  ‘You were right.’ Freemont was all business. ‘Detective Barasco does have a hard-on for you.’

  ‘Because he’s an asshole,’ I said.

  ‘He’s just doing his job,’ he said, ‘which in this case is to be an asshole. Anyway, I have the feeling you haven’t heard the last from him. If you get arrested, I highly recommend you hire a good criminal attorney, somebody experienced with this sort of case.’

  ‘But I’m one hundred percent innocent.’

  ‘Even if the evidence is circumstantial, he might try to bring charges,’ Freemont said.

  ‘Why? Just to fuck with me?’

  ‘Put yourself in his place,’ he said. ‘That area, Kips Bay, doesn’t see a lot of homicides. And, let’s face it, Sophie Ward was a white woman, and white lives matter when it comes to murder cases. He’s under enormous pressure to make an arrest – fast.’

  ‘I didn’t kill her,’ I said. ‘I swear on my life I didn’t.’

  The scent of fried food everywhere reminded me that I was starving.

  ‘Where are you staying tonight?’ Freemont asked.

  ‘What time is it?’ I hadn’t turned my phone on yet.

  ‘Little after ten,’ Freemont said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘Whatever you do,’ he said, ‘don’t, do not try to return to your apartment.’

  ‘Do you think Barasco was telling the truth? My wife got a restraining order?’

  ‘It’s likely she did, yes. But I’ll confirm that later.’

  I had to speak to Maria, talk some sense into her.

  As if reading my mind, Freemont said, ‘Whatever you do, don’t contact her. And you can’t have any contact with your son either.’

  ‘I have to call him.’

  ‘Don’t. If you want to stay out of jail, listen to me on this, man. Don’t call him, don’t text him, don’t show up at his school. Stay away from your family. When the dust settles, we’ll deal with all of that, but right now my primary concern is to keep you out of jail.’

  ‘But my son needs me.’

  ‘I get that,’ Freemont said. ‘I love my son too. But if you’re in jail he won’t have you at all, so I’m advising you to stick with the big picture. You hear what I’m saying?’

  I understood why Maria was angry at me and felt betrayed, but she didn’t have to bring Jonah into it. She knew I was a great father.

  ‘I shouldn’t be surprised,’ I said. ‘This is why I did it.’ I realized how that had sounded. ‘Not it like that – I mean it in why I went online in the first place. I mean why I went on that website and met Sophie.’

  ‘I understand,’ Freemont said.

  Like before, I got an annoying vibe that he didn’t believe me at all.

  ‘Can I ask you for a favor?’ I said. ‘I have no money and I need to get a MetroCard and s
omething to eat. I’ll pay you back, I promise.’

  He opened his wallet and said, ‘Will thirty help?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘thank you.’

  He handed me the bills and asked, ‘So where you headed now?’

  ‘I’ll probably stay with a friend,’ I lied.

  The truth was I had nowhere to go. I didn’t have any extended family in the city. I had a lot of friends from AA in town, but they had families, and I didn’t want to burden them.

  ‘Cool, well let me know where you land.’ He handed me a business card. ‘I’ll reach out to you in the morning and we can meet up, maybe at my office downtown, maybe around midday.’

  ‘I have to work tomorrow,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure of my schedule.’

  ‘Okay, well, reach out when you know, and we’ll figure out a time.’

  We shook hands – my grip firmer than his.

  ‘Thanks again,’ I said, ‘for everything.’

  ‘Good luck,’ he said.

  He got a cab on Canal Street and headed away.

  I went into the first restaurant I saw and ordered pork dumplings and shrimp lo mein to go. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, I wolfed down the food, barely chewing. As the grease and sodium hit my gut, I remembered my vow to eat healthier and to get my body in shape for a wild affair with Sophie. All of that felt like a dream. Or a dream that had turned into a nightmare.

  I finished the food and discarded the containers. Heading along the no-man’s-land, between Chinatown and Little Italy and SoHo, panic hit. I had no place to go – I was, for all intents and purposes, homeless. My pulse was pounding; I couldn’t get a full breath. I told myself I wasn’t having a heart attack, it was just panic, but this didn’t make me any calmer. I had to talk to Jonah – hear his voice one last time, tell him I loved him. I had my cell out, typed in: HOME. But, right as the call connected, I ended it.

  I wasn’t dying. Well, I tried to reassure myself anyway. I knelt in the vestibule of a closed jewelry store, taking steady, even breaths until the panic attack subsided.

  I agreed with Freemont that it would be a bad idea to go uptown tonight, but what else was I supposed to do? Sleep on the street? Ride the subway back and forth all night?

  I craved a drink, and I thought, Why not just do it? I couldn’t think of a single argument against it. After all, at this point what did I have to lose? I remembered passing a dive bar on the previous block and headed back there.