Brenda said, “And all the adults were fighting all the time. We weren’t supposed to notice, but we aren’t stupid. Like, we wanted to put out a gay teen newsletter. We wanted to include stuff about what to do if an older person tried to pick you up, about using condoms, about AIDS prevention. You’d think we were trying to write for our high school papers. Every single thing we wrote had to be scrutinized by a committee. After the committee ripped it to shreds, Mr. Fitch managed to screw it up even worse. His decisions about what we could or could not write seemed awfully arbitrary. He’d never set out a clear policy. He wouldn’t even let us use a computer at the clinic.”
Larry said, “It was like you had to suck up to him for no other reason than he wanted to be sucked up to. Is that the way adults should act?”
“But you all came to the clinic?”
“Jan is right,” Brenda confirmed. “It was a place to go, a refuge.”
“Did you all use the basement against the rules?”
They all nodded.
Jan said, “It wasn’t just us. A lot of kids did. I think it’s been going on for years.”
Cliff added, “If I wanted to make out with a guy, I couldn’t find another place. You don’t want to be caught by the cops or anybody else when you’re making out in your car with a guy.”
Brenda said, “Some of the girls and I got together and smoked pot down there a few times.”
“Did Charley Fitch put the make on any of you?” I asked.
“Fuck no,” Larry said. Jan laughed. Head shake from Cliff.
Larry said, “There’s something we heard that we need to talk about.”
Brenda said, “Down in the basement we could hear the adults raising their voices all the time.”
I thought I was beginning to get the drift. “You heard something last night?”
Larry said, “Not last night. Before that. We needed to talk to somebody. Brenda knew that Jan had talked to the cops. He called her earlier. We’ve all got cell phones. We had to do something. Jan said we could trust you.”
“I told them you were the best person to talk to.” Jan added enough pride and ego to his tone, to suggest that he’d done some miraculous, virtuous thing by suggesting talking to me. And that I should be grateful for his wisdom and insight and faith in me.
Larry said, “We know Mr. Weaver didn’t do it. All the kids like Mr. Weaver. You can tell he cares. He’s never rude. He’s never mean. He doesn’t put us down or interrupt us when we talk. He doesn’t dump all that older person’s advice on us. He listens. He always knows what to say to help you. Or, I guess, if he doesn’t know, he tells you that. He doesn’t lie to us. If he says he didn’t kill the guy, then we know he didn’t.”
Jan said, “It was that Karek guy. It had to be. I wasn’t there when this happened, but it’s gotta be true. I’ve heard people talking about that Karek guy. I saw him on television. He was a crazy person.”
Larry said, “Karek came in one time. It was after everybody had left. Brenda, Cliff, and me were down in our space in the basement.”
Brenda said, “We were having a prom meeting of our own. The adults have got it into their heads that the prom is a big deal.”
“For some of us, it is,” Larry said. “I could never go to the prom at my school with a guy. I wish I had someone to take to the prom here. I’d go. I think it’s a big deal.”
“When was this?” I asked. Because of their disjointed teenage style, I was beginning to get a little confused.
Larry said, “Last Saturday night about nine o’clock.”
“How did you know it was Karek?”
“Charley Fitch said it real loud when he was yelling several times. You know like, ‘You asshole, Karek,’ or ‘Fuck you, Karek.’”
I asked, “Did anyone else know about this visit?”
Larry said, “I don’t know. Only the three of us were there.”
“What did they say?”
“We could hear them,” Brenda said. “They were really loud. In some places in the basement you can hear like they were in the next room.”
“Can they hear you?” I asked.
Larry said, “Everybody’s used to being very quiet down there.”
I said, “Explain the geography of this place to me.”
Brenda spoke up. “Under the main building, the one closest to Addison, is where we stay. It’s the one they renovated. The other parts are still pretty ratty and there’s all kinds of junk stored down there. You can hardly get around.”
I said, “You’re quiet, but you leave messes.”
“A few kids do,” Larry said. “Most don’t.”
“It’s not right to listen to other people,” Cliff said, “although it was hard to miss sometimes. People got loud. My parents do the same thing. Sometimes I think all adults shout to solve their problems.” Cliff’s voice had that teenage squeak I imagined he desperately wished it didn’t.
Jan said, “Some of us liked to listen to them discussing us kids.”
“I never did that,” Larry said. “But these guys were really loud, you couldn’t help but hear them from every room in the basement.”
Brenda said, “I never tried to listen to stuff about kids, but Larry’s right. You couldn’t miss these two guys.”
Larry said, “Well, that night the two of them argued. They were threatening to sue each other. They yelled and screamed. Each told the other they didn’t understand the gay movement. They got into a screaming match about drag queens at the Pride parade.”
“Huh?”
Larry explained, “Karek said that the drag queens dominated the parade. That they were in the majority. That they were an embarrassment. I didn’t get it. Who cares about drag queens? I went to the Pride parade last year. There were like three hundred fifty thousand people in the streets and maybe a total of fifty drag queens. That’s predominant? Anyway, they both said the other didn’t understand the historical forces at work. It was a lot of rhetorical bullshit.”
“It sounds like you were taking notes.”
Larry said, “That’s only the stuff I remember. There was a bunch more.”
Brenda said, “I’ve heard those same arguments before. We all have. One of the seminars you have to attend here if you want to use the services is on gay history. It’s all crap.”
I said, “I doubt if it was all crap to the people who lived it.”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “The man and the woman who presented the seminar did nothing but argue. Things don’t change.”
“How long did the argument between Karek and Charley Fitch last?”
“Maybe half an hour,” Larry said.
Cliff added, “We couldn’t hear everything they said, but the thing is at the end each one threatened to kill the other.”
Brenda said, “I phoned Larry and Cliff as soon as Jan called me this morning.” I imagine Jan was on the phone to everyone on his speed dial spreading the news. Getting attention as the bringer of news. The kid had a very different kind of attention deficit disorder.
Jan said, “I called first thing when I found out what was going on. I tried to talk to everybody before the police questioned me.” Flip went the boa.
“I told Jan what we heard,” Brenda said. “It wasn’t like a secret. I remember distinctly Mr. Fitch said he’d be happy to push Karek off any three of the tallest buildings in Chicago. He said Karek deserved to die. Karek said he’d be happy to supply enough arsenic to kill Snarly Bitch. Then he added that Snarly would have to give him time to get a supply together since they’d probably have to manufacture extra tons of it to have enough for a fatal dose for such a big asshole. I thought that was funny. That’s pretty close to a direct quote.”
Larry said, “What are we gonna do? We want to help Mr. Weaver. Him getting arrested was terrible. He’s a terrific guy. I trust him more than I do my dad. No offense to you Mr. Mason, but we really wanted to talk to him, but now he’s arrested. We want to do whatever we can to prove he didn’t do
it.”
I said, “He has a very good lawyer.” I wanted to help Lee as well. If I got a chance, I wanted to talk to this Karek guy. I’m not sure talk show arguments were a good reason for murder. Most of the time I thought the discussions on those programs were as spontaneous as pro wrestling, with about as much depth of dialogue. Still, I wanted to ask him a few questions.
Cliff said, “Maybe we could see Mr. Weaver or talk to him, kind of cheer him up.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that,” I said, “but right now I doubt if the police would let anyone but his lawyer see him.”
Jan said, “We want to investigate the crime. We could put out our own newsletter. We could use the printer at my house and staple it together. We could publish the facts about fights Snarly Bitch had with other people. We can find out stuff.” All four of them looked eager enough to run out and be fervent and fixated little Sam Spades.
And then later maybe they could put on a show and buy an iron lung for a kid in a wheelchair. But you don’t say that kind of thing. They were kids trying to find a way to do right, to have an effect on their world in a positive way. I said, “There are a lot of legal issues with newsletters, things about slander and libel that are pretty complicated. I think you should avoid that. You could get sued.”
“But at least we could talk to people,” Cliff said.
I hated to rain on their enthusiasm. I said, “I think the police might get pretty angry if you tried to do any investigating.”
Jan said, “I don’t care if the police get mad.”
“I want to help,” Larry said.
“I can keep you informed of developments,” I said. “I don’t know how much good it would do for you to go around talking to people. They have no reason to trust you. I hate to say this, but they’d probably just dismiss you as kids and tell you to go away. I think the best thing you could do is tell the police what you heard. At the very least, I can use your information as a basis to ask some questions.”
Cliff said, “You’ve got to tell the police this stuff for us. I can’t admit I was down there. We were smoking dope.”
“Me neither,” Larry said. “And if we talk to the cops, won’t our parents have to be involved? I can’t have that.”
“I didn’t hear the fight,” Jan said, “otherwise I’d tell them myself. If I tell them, it’s hearsay, isn’t it? I think that’s what it is. Frankly, all these legal things just boggle my mind.” He had his hand to his throat, in full Scarlett O’Hara mode.
I said, “I don’t know if you guys have much choice about talking to the cops. This is a murder investigation. I know you probably all trust each other to keep quiet, but this kind of thing always comes out. You’ll never be able to keep it secret. Other kids know about the basement. You’ve told others about the fight?”
Cliff said, “We did imitations when the adults weren’t around at the group discussion meeting last Sunday.”
I added, “The police might be questioning some of the kids no matter what.”
“What about confidentiality?” Larry asked.
“This is a murder investigation. I’m afraid parents are going to get involved.”
Larry said, “If this is going to become public, we’re really scared. None of us is really out. My dad isn’t happy about my being gay. If I was involved in some kind of murder case, he wouldn’t let me out of the house until I graduate. Plus, I’ve got some good possibilities for athletic scholarships next year. If some universities knew I was gay, they might turn me down. No college team is going to tell me they don’t want me because I’m gay, but a lot of sports are still pretty homophobic. A college could just say that all the slots are filled. That I’m not a ‘match’ for their program.”
“The police aren’t in the habit of making a list of witnesses public.”
Larry asked, “Witnesses at trials aren’t anonymous, are they?”
“No,” I admitted.
Cliff said, “I saw an article in the Trib about how police in Chicago deal with witnesses. It said they treated them like suspects. Kept them locked away in rooms. I don’t want to go through that.”
The others nodded.
I’d read the same article. I said, “I’ll do whatever I can to help you guys. I’ll meet with your parents, or I can help be a go-between, if necessary, with another counselor at the clinic or my lawyer. I doubt if your names are going to be in the paper. I think talking to your parents is essential and setting up meetings with the police has to happen. Your parents will probably need to be with you.”
Cliff said, “But we’ll have to admit so much stuff.”
“Lies and secrets aren’t the best way to handle being gay or being a teenager or having information in a murder investigation.”
I wanted to get these kids in touch with the police. Parents would have to be dealt with. I called Todd’s pager. In a few minutes he returned my call. I summarized what the teens had said. He told me he was still involved with Lee. He said that he’d send over one of his associates whom he had total faith in. The teens agreed to wait.
As I went to get more coffee, Larry pulled me aside and said, “Mr. Mason, I know more.” He gulped and blushed. Finally he mumbled, “I was there last night.”
8
Jan couldn’t hear what we were saying, but he looked like he was ready to leap at us. I was sure a conversation in the same room as Jan that he was not privy to would be enough to drive him wild. The budding drag queen hustled over.
“What’s going on? Shouldn’t we all be here for any discussions?”
I said, “Larry and I need to talk privately for a little while.” Jan drew in a large breath. Whether he was preparing a hissy fit or quiet compliance, I chose not to wait for his response. I turned my back on him. Larry and I sat down in a corner of the restaurant away from the others.
I asked, “Were you with Jan last night?”
“Hell, no. Jan’s not my type. He’s an effeminate fag. I wouldn’t be here with him now except Brenda likes him, and they both know you. They said you were the one we had to talk to.” He smiled shyly. “I saved you and your lover’s wedding announcement from the paper. I try to watch every game Mr. Carpenter pitches on television. I even went to one of those ‘out at the ballpark’ games.”
Several gay groups had gotten together to sponsor gay days at Wrigley Field. The events were huge successes.
Larry was continuing, “I admire you guys so much. I never watch Oprah, but I did when you guys were on. You’re like, masculine and normal.”
His praise was almost embarrassing, but I was pleased we’d helped. A lot of the point of what Scott and I tried to do was to help gay kids deal with their sexual orientation. I wasn’t particularly in the mood for a fan, but I said, “Thanks.”
“When I found out you volunteered at the clinic, I’d hoped to meet you and even Mr. Carpenter.” He shook his brush-cut head. “Everybody says you can be trusted. I’ve got to talk to somebody about this.” He gulped. “Last night I was in the basement with a friend. A boyfriend. If there were some people around, it wasn’t a big worry. No adults ever went down there.”
“Sloan Hastern said he did.”
“The guy in charge of volunteer stuff?”
I nodded.
“Some kids said he knew but that he was cool about it. I never saw him or any other adult.”
The teenager rubbed his large red hands together. He’d bitten his nails to the quick.
“We never make noise when we’re in the basement, even if it’s after hours.” He paused and when he resumed he spoke very softly. “I could hear Mr. Weaver in Mr. Fitch’s office after everybody else left.”
“Everybody else had left?” I had to make sure that the kid was clear and that I had the time sequence of what had happened the night before correct. Who was where when would be very important.
“We don’t go down there in the middle of the day, but at night it’s safe down there. As I was passing the clinic parking lot last nigh
t all the cars were gone. A few lights were on, but we figured they were mostly emergency lights. Mr. Fitch has that inside office. We can never tell if his lights are on or off. He’s pretty oblivious most of the time anyway. He never goes in the basement. All the kids know that. They make us kids clean it. It’s pretty ratty. Anyway, we heard Mr. Weaver.”
“But Lee’s car was gone a little while before?”
“Yeah. He must have come back.”
Lee had lied to me. I was extremely pissed about that.
Jan flounced up to us. He put a hand on Larry’s shoulder and said, “Did either of you need some coffee or anything?”
Larry moved his shoulder out from under Jan’s hand. Jan didn’t seem to notice. Larry and I said, “No, thanks.” When Jan didn’t look prepared to move any time before the passing of the next millennium, I said, “We’re not quite through yet.” Jan huffed away.
“How do you know which car is Lee’s?”
“He’s got the coolest yellow Corvette.” An extravagance that I was sure helped keep Lee in all kinds of debt.
“What did he and Mr. Fitch say?”
“I couldn’t make out everything.” He blushed. “For a lot of the time I was preoccupied.”
“Then how did you know they were arguing?”
“After we…” Now he was very red.
I said, “At some point, you heard them.”
“Right. We were afraid to leave in case we made some noise and were discovered. Mr. Weaver isn’t dumb. If he heard something, he might figure it out or at least investigate. Mr. Fitch is clueless. Our room is under his office. Somebody dropped a stack of CDs one time, and he didn’t come down to investigate. I heard each of them say ‘fuck you’ and make threats. At the end they got really loud. They were screaming at each other.”
“What kind of threats?”
“About other people losing their jobs. Mr. Fitch claimed he could fire anybody he wanted any time he wanted. He was being really mean. I can understand being tough on the football field, but not when you’re talking to other adults. Aren’t adults supposed to work things out or at least not be screaming at each other?”
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