“What is he doing here?” Julio Rodrigues demanded as Chief led me into the in-tar-o- gation room. It appeared like the other rooms with a table and chairs with one handcuff tightened over Julio Rodrigues’ good hand. His other hand, the one I bit and crushed, is all bandaged up. “I’m gonna sue the department for allowing that vicious animal to attack me. You broke my hand!” He pointed his bandaged hand and one of his fingers at me.
“Grrr, Ruff!” I replied with equal malice. I’m not done with you yet. I still want so much to squeeze my teeth into your throat and taste the blood pouring out as I break your neck.
“Down, Boomer, go lay down there,” Chief ordered me. I went to the corner and laid down. Chief sat on a chair; another man sat on another chair across from Julio Rodrigues. He was there when we arrived. He opened a folder and whistled loudly as if he was amazed at something inside.
“Mr. Rodrigues, you should be in prison with all of these crimes you have on here,” the man said. I began cleaning myself. “We are here to rectify that issue tonight, Mr. Rodrigues. I am Detective Norris. I’m taking over for Detective Mike Flowers. Before I begin questioning you I am required to read you your Miranda Rights. Mr. Rodrigues you are being charged with two counts of first-degree murder and one count of attempted murder on a law enforcement officer.
“Mr. Rodrigues you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be held against you in the court. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney one will be given to you at no cost.
“Do you understand your rights, Mr. Rodrigues?” “Yeah and I want an attorney too. He’s Robert Proctor.”
“Oh, so you are in high cotton aren’t you?” Chief asked. I look up at Chief and wonder why he said something so odd. My ears perked up with curiosity.
“He’s my old man’s lawyer!”
“Here’s my cell phone. Go ahead and call Mr. Proctor. Chief looked at his wrist watch. I can’t tell time but figured as dark as it is, this Mr. Proctor was probably in bed asleep.
Julio Rodrigues grabbed the phone with his cuffed hand, then glared at the two. “I need to dial his number and some privacy, please?”
Chief used his key to uncuff the shackle and both men left the room. He punched the phone with his good hand. “It’s me, Julio. I got arrested. Murder but it ain’t gonna stick.
Anyway, I need you down at the Gooding Police Station. They want to question me about me killing Ang and Wintersong.
“Tell them, I’ll plead guilty to hurting that cop tonight. My shotgun accidentally discharged while I was hiding in the closet. Because I had just shot Wintersong. It was self- defense. He came after me with a gun at my old man’s place in Jerome.
“The other one? Oh, Bob Ang. That was pay back for that car accident three years ago. I don’t care if it was an accident. He screwed up my leg and killed my mom. He had to pay. He was drunk or high. He got arrested for it and went to jail which wasn’t nearly long enough.”
There was silence on his end, while I heard the man talking on the other end tell him, “Don’t say anything. I will be there in half an hour, Julio.”
I look up at him as he put his phone back on the table. He stared at me as if realizing I never left. I growled back at him in warning. He seemed prepared to do something; making up his mind between evil and good when the door opened and Chief and the other detective came inside.
“It’s time to process you, Mr. Rodrigues,” Chief told him. I went to him and licked his hand; thankful he came in just as he did.
“Fine,” he snapped angrily. “I’ll be out on bail soon enough.”
“That’s unlikely unless Grandpa Julio has mighty deep pockets,” the detective said. “We picked up your accomplice on a traffic stop using that same Honda Civic used in shooting Mr. Ang. He just now confessed that he drove you to that house and shot him. So, we have you for the murder of Robert Ang as well as the shooting tonight and the attempted murder on Detective Mike. At this point we don’t care what excuse for an alibi you have, Mr. Rodrigues. After the trial you will spend the rest of your life in an Idaho corrections facility.”
“My lawyer will…”
“Your lawyer will try and plea bargain on your behalf, is all you can expect,” Chief replied. “At this point we don’t need a statement from you at all. I’m sure your lawyer already suggested you not answer any questions until he shows up.”
“Was that dog bugged? Were you listening to our phone call? That’s illegal, you know.”
“Not at all, Mr. Rodrigues. I have been in law enforcement over twenty years and know the drill quite well,” Chief replied. “There is nothing new here. Tomorrow morning when you go to your first pretrial hearing the judge will ask for a plea and your lawyer will undoubtedly reply not guilty and then ask for some ridiculous sum for bail. Then you will get your first taste of incarceration because I would imagine our judge here will not give you bail or the amount will be beyond your ability to come up with the sum reasonable for a bail bondsman to take.”
I look at Julio Rodrigues. He snarled at Chief but said nothing. They stare at each other an awfully long time. Then all three got up from the table and walked to the door. I follow them out and then go into the breakroom where I flop myself on a soft cushioned couch and close my eyes.