Force of Nature
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Force of Nature Stanley Moodrow, #2 by Stephen Solomita, 1943– Published: 1989 J J J J J I I I I I Table of Contents Dedication Transcription & Chapter 1 … thru … Chapter 32 Acknowledgements * * * * * This is a work of fiction despite the existence of a real New York City and a real NYPD. Example: the northern boundary of the real 7th precinct in real New York City is Houston Street. The northern boundary of the 7th Precinct in this novel is 14th Street. A word to the wiseguy. J J J J J I I I I I For Ethan and Judy. Obviously. Transcription POLICE DEPARTMENT: CITY OF NEW YORK TAPE TRANSCRIPTION LABEL PD641-447 (4/85) tape# 4377 case# MC201 loc 7th Pct tape date 8/9/90 trans, date 8/9/90 transcribed by A. Pulliam sig. civ. emp. # 901-22-3345 badge # xxxxxxxx pers: Pet. Paul Kirkpatrick Pet. Charles O’Neill ADA Leonora Higgins Angel Rodriguez cross reference Major Cases 201 DET. O’NEILL: (faint) one, two, three, four. DET. KIRKPATRICK: (faint) Turn up the volume, asshole. DET. O’NEILL: one, two, three, four. L. HIGGINS: That’s fine, Detective. DET. O’NEILL: Date is August 9, 1987. Time is 9:35 AM. Place is Bellevue Hospital, prison ward. Police personnel: Detective Charles O’Neill. Detective Paul Kirkpatrick. Assistant District Attorney Leonora Higgins. Angel Rodriguez, prisoner. Case number is MC201. Tape number is 4377. Okay, Miss Higgins. He’s all yours. L. HIGGINS: Mr. Rodriguez? A. RODRIGUEZ: Yes? L. HIGGINS: Mr. Rodriguez, do you understand that you have the right to have a lawyer present during this interview? A. RODRIGUEZ: Cut the bullshit, lady. Just do the fucking thing, awright? DET. KIRKPATRICK: Watch your mouth. A. RODRIGUEZ: Fuck you, too, man. DET. KIRKPATRICK: Okay, be a smartass, Angel. You got the upper hand right now, but in a couple weeks you’re gonna be out on the street. Then your ass is mine. L. HIGGINS: For Christ sake, Kirkpatrick, let’s just get through the damn interview. Without the macho . DET. KIRKPATRICK: (Pause. Laughter. Unintelligible.) Sorry, Miss Higgins. You go ahead and do your thing. L. HIGGINS: Angel, I have to explain your rights before we can do the interview. And you have to answer out loud so the tape recorder can pick up your response. Even if you already know your rights. If you don’t answer, which is also your right, you will have to remain in custody until or unless you can make bail. Comprendo? A. RODRIGUEZ: Sure. The beautiful way you say it, even a spic like me could understand. L. HIGGINS: I’m glad to hear that. Now, do you wish to have a lawyer present during this interview? A. RODRIGUEZ: Ain’t you a lawyer? L. HIGGINS: Goddamn you, Rodriguez, if you don’t get your act together in ten seconds, I’ll walk out of here and let you rot. I mean right now. Do you understand that? A. RODRIGUEZ: I understand that if I name the scumbag who blew away your policeman and that reporter on Delancey Street three days ago, you ain’t gonna send me away for the hits you found on me. L. HIGGINS: That’s right, Angel. But in addition to the information (in fact, before I can ask you even one question about that night) you have to say the magic words. Now, do you wish to have an attorney, at no cost to yourself, to represent you while we conduct this interview? A. RODRIGUEZ: No. L. HIGGINS: Are you giving this information of your own free will? A. RODRIGUEZ: Yes. L. HIGGINS: Do you understand that the information you give here is an admission of guilt and in the event you refuse to testify against the man who committed these homicides, this interview could be used against you in a court of law? A. RODRIGUEZ: Say what? L. HIGGINS: It’s simple, Angel. You’re going to tell us who killed your pals on Delancey Street a few days ago. If we locate the man or men responsible, you’re going to identify him in a court of law. If you change your mind, this tape we’re making will be the same as a confession that, number one, you were at the scene to sell drugs. Number two, you were in possession of a substantial amount of a controlled substance. Number three, you are guilty of several C felonies, each punishable by a prison term, third offense, of fifteen years to life. Now, do you understand? Do you want a lawyer present during this interview? A. RODRIGUEZ: No lawyer, lady. Shit, you gonna find out sooner or later who’s doin’ all the shootin’ down there. Besides, I already talked to a lawyer and he says if I don’t do this, I’m dead, so like I don’t have no fucking choice. But I do got one question for you? L. HIGGINS: Shoot. A. RODRIGUEZ: Just for your fucking tape recorder, answer me this: if I agree to give you the name of the dude what blew them people away, you ain’t gonna charge me with none of them crimes you named? That’s the deal we made just for the fucking record? L. HIGGINS: That’s the deal, (pause) He’s all yours. DET. O’NEILL: Okay, Angel, why don’t you start it up from just before you went down to the bridge. We’ll ask questions as you go along. A. RODRIGUEZ: I live in the projects on 4100 Columbia Street with my brother and his wife. On August 6, I got up for dinner about seven o’clock like always, then went out to do business. I was sellin’ hits and the main place for hits is by the bridge on Columbia Street which is half a block from my house. The spot opens up after the car wash closes about 8:30. L. HIGGINS: What are hits? A. RODRIGUEZ: Shit, lady… DET. O’NEILL: Just tell her, Angel. A. RODRIGUEZ: Hits are like ups and downs, awright? (pause) Two pills, man, and they go up and down. L. HIGGINS: What’s in them? A. RODRIGUEZ: How am I supposed to know that? I ain’t no damn chemist and I don’t know nothin’ about what’s in the hit. Alls I know is they get you colossal fucked up and people buy ’em. I’m a businessman. What else do I gotta know? DET. KIRKPATRICK: Ain’t you read the reports, Miss? It’s in the goddamn reports. (Unintelligible ) DET. O’NEILL: And our time ain’t valuable? L. HIGGINS: I apologize, Detective. I haven’t studied Rodriguez’ arrest reports. Our main concern, in this case, is homicide, not narcotics. But I should have studied the reports. I concede that. Somehow I never anticipated dealing with an unknown narcotic. DET. O’NEILL: Unknown? Hits have been on the street for more than a year. The ‘up’ half is crank, Methedrine, and the ‘down’ half is Dilaudid, oxycodone, even codeine. Looks like the chemist’s got supply troubles on the downside. Right now, hits sell for ten bucks and they’re real popular with the white kids who drive in from the boonies. See, you can’t shoot hits, so the kids don’t have to feel like they’re chickenshit about needles. By the way, hits are a narc’s dream. Two controlled substances for the price of one. We catch ’em with hits, we charge ’em with two felonies. L. HIGGINS: Very interesting. Hits? Who would have dreamed it. Angel, you can proceed. A. RODRIGUEZ: First I meet my main man, Pincho Correa and we stroll down to the bridge. There’s all businesses under the bridge during the day. There’s even garbage men on the other side where they fix the trucks. But at night the white people go home and leave us to ourselves. It’s hot like a motherfucker that night, so we buy some beers at the bodega on the other side of Delancey Street, then dig in by the bridge to wait for the guinea to fall by with the hits. The delivery man’s name is Little Ugly. That’s so we can tell him from his muscle which we call Big Ugly. Both the dudes are Italians and they drop off every night around nine and pick up the leftovers and their piece of the action around two on weeknights, four on Friday and Saturday. This works out good for us two ways. One, we don’t gotta carry money or hits with us during the day. Two, we got Italians protectin’ us, so most times the bad boys leave us be. That’s probly why I wasn’t prepared for no action that night even though I shoulda seen what was comin’ down. Nine o’clock the man drives up in his midnight blue Seville and me and Pincho get inside. We’re jus’ goin’ round the block so’s we can count the hits. Sposed ta be four hundred in the sack, but it comes up short. Comes up three nine eight. Now the Uglys is definitely bad people, but Pincho don’t know no fear. Pincho say, “Yo, man, you short two hits.” Little Ugly say, “Be cool, brother. I got this Chinese bitch on East Broadway loves hits. Gets her pussy wet. Take it off the top.” Pincho don’t say no more cause even if he got heart, he ain’t crazy.