Six Bad Things

concussion; in fair condition. Wade Hiller: DOA.

And more tape: the front of my home, cops, Mom and Dad being led to a sheriff’s car by two deputies, reporters shouting and shoving cameras into the air to get a shot. They’re in custody, uncharged, but being questioned.

The punch line comes last, a statement from the San Joaquin County Sheriff taped a few hours ago.

– We are still investigating the incidents in Patterson that occurred early this morning, but we do have some information. Um, there have been three deaths, two in an apparent automobile collision and the other a shooting. Deputies responding to the collision were informed that shots had been fired at that location and, and, wait, I’m sorry, and T. T., uh, Deputy Fischer was responding to that call when he was redirected to an alarm call that we had reason to believe might be, uh, connected with the earlier, uh, earlier call. The collision and shots fired. He, uh, gave pursuit. He gave pursuit to a vehicle fleeing the scene of the alarm call, and the suspect vehicle, uh, crashed, and while the deputy was, we believe at this point, that while the deputy was apprehending the suspect in the, uh, suspect vehicle, another vehicle arrived at the scene and one or more people shot T. T., shot Deputy Fischer at that time and fled with the suspect, the first suspect. Uh. Just give me a…

He turns from the microphones and wipes at his tearing eyes.

– Um, at this time, we believe that the suspect that fled, the second scene, the alarm call? We believe that suspect had already fled the scene of the collision and shots fired and that, we have eyewitness testimony at this time that this suspect is Henry Thompson, the suspect wanted for several murders in New York, uh, three years ago.

There is a great deal of hubbub from the reporters. Sheriff Reyes, a man clearly out of his depth, raises his hands for silence.

– I’m not, we’re not going to answer any questions, no questions. We do have, we do have some pictures we want to show and a number for information that we want to give out.

Reyes holds up a sheet of paper and the camera zooms in on it. It’s my booking photo from New York.

– This is a photo of Henry Thompson as he looked three years ago. Based on our, uh, witness, this is what we think Henry Thompson may look like now.

He holds up the other paper. It’s a sketch based on the photo, a few pounds and years added, along with more hair and a beard.

– We have copies for the press and the number is there at the bottom and we’d like you to run that number at the bottom, the bottom of the TV screen. And, this man is armed and very, very dangerous and we, as I said, we do believe at this stage that he has at least one accomplice and.

I turn it off. Sid jumps off the bed.

– Cool! Cool! Dude, is this what it was like in New York, is this what it was like?

– Yeah, this is pretty much what it was like.

– Cool!

He starts jumping around the room, punching the air. I turn away. Rolf picks up the remains of the grilled cheese I took three bites of, and tosses it in the trash.

– Sorry ’bout your folks, that’s harsh.

I don’t answer. Instead I point at Sid. He’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror, unaware of us, doing his best Taxi Driver.

– You talkin’ ta me?

I shake my head.

– What the hell, Rolf?

Rolf shrugs.

– Yeah, he’s a handful.

Sid catches us looking at him and points at me.

– Well, I don’t see anyone else here, so you must be talkin’ ta me.

He laughs, quick-draws pistol-fingers, and shoots them at me.

– You the man! You. The. Man.

Then he closes the bathroom door and we can hear him pissing. Rolf laughs.

– And like I said, dude, he kind of has a crush on you.

I want to leave right away, but Sid insists that we sweep the room to leave the fewest possible clues.

– Dudes, I can tell you right now, the cops are all over your mom and dad’s neighborhood asking about suspicious vehicles and shit. And someone always sees something. Sooner or later, someone’s gonna say something about my camper being parked on the street. They’re gonna look into it, and dudes on the block are gonna be all, nope not mine. Next, they lift a tire track from the field where I kacked that deputy.

He’s going around the room with the liner from one of the wastebaskets, filling it with every scrap of trash he can find, along with strands of my hair that were on the pillow and any other bodily effluvia laying about.

– Where we get lucky, dudes, is that I have some custom Pirellis on my ride. So the tracks won’t really point at the funky ’72 Westy people saw around your folk’s place. ’Course, that only plays if we didn’t leave a track in a oil puddle in front of their house or something. Which is why I’m doing this shit, ’cause if the cops start telling people to keep their eyes peeled for my ride, the guy up at the desk might remember it. Next thing ya know, this room is wrapped in plastic, vacuum-sealed, and they’re running swabs over the rim of the toilet looking for our DNA.

Rolf and me help him clean up.

SID HAS a copy of The Man Who Got Away that he wants me to sign. It’s in a milk crate full of true crime books in one of the cabinets in his Westphalia.

The Westphalia rings a bell somewhere in my scrambled brain.

– Rolf, how did you find me?

Turns out Rolf, not being wanted by the police, flew back to the States on a commercial flight, took a bet that I’d try to cross at the busiest port of entry on the border, and started hanging out in T.J. And he found me. Motherfucker actually saw me walk out of the border station, jumped into Sid’s Westphalia, followed me into San Diego, where they almost ran me over, and then tracked me up the I-5. And can you believe that shit?

– Can you believe that shit, dude?

No.

– I mean, I hopped online at the airport before I flew out of Cancun. Got all kinds of stuff about you, like where your folks live and all. You being a novice at border hopping and probably headed for Cali, I figured T.J. was a no-brainer. But the stakeout at the border? That was Sid.

Rolf is driving, Sid is in the passenger seat and I’m on the bench-seat behind them. Sid raises his hand.

– The stakeout was mine.

– Yeah, ’cause I was all about heading for Patterson and looking for you there, ’cause there was no way I figured we’d spot you coming across.

– And I was all, Dude, what if he doesn’t go to see his rents? Then what?

– Turns out we were both right.

– Yeah, but come on, give me props.

Sid holds out his fist and Rolf punches it lightly.

– Props.

The lighter on the dash pops out, Rolf hands it to me. I light the cigarette I’m holding, hand the lighter back, and he clicks it back into its slot.

– Then we just kind of hung back to see what was up.

Sid turns to face me.

– We didn’t want to freak you out, and Rolf was all, Dude, we need to wait till he makes a move for whatever ducats he has stashed.

– We drove by the house every hour or so. Hung out at the Mickey D’s by the highway and then parked up the street after dark.

– We had the beds down and our bags out when we heard that crash, and then the shots. I was all, Hit it!

– Took us a couple turns to find the scene. By then the fire department was there, so we cruised by and went