When I got outside, they had the three of them in separate cars. Sanchez and I got in the car on either side, with the first one. “You wanna tell me what happened out here tonight?”

“No.”

“Look, we can do this anyway you want; but you are going to tell me what happened.”

“No I ain’t. I got the right to remain silent,” he said with a smug look on his face like he had the world by the tail.

“That’s only if you were under arrest, which you’re not. Right now, I have all the rights. And I got the right to kick your fuckin’ ass, and then I’ll arrest you for resisting arrest,” I said.

“Yeah, but you ain’t gonna do that, ’cause I’ll sue your ass for police brutally.”

“You were injured while resisting arrest; wasn’t he lieutenant?”

“That’s how my report will read,” Sanchez said.

“Or maybe I’ll just shoot you in the back and say you were trying to escape.”

“You just tryin’ ta’ scare me.”

“Look, I know you were with them when the shooting started.”

“Who told you that?”

“I did,” Sanchez said. “We had you, asshole, under surveillance for months. We know all about Kenyatta Damson and the whole crew of you. You take a good picture.”

“What I get if I tell you what you wanna know?”

“I already told you: you get to get out of this car alive and with no broken bones,” I said.

“All right. I don’t know who them niggas was, but they rolled up on us and just started shooting. Blade was out front; he got cut down ’fore he got his gun out. Kenyatta and Fraz shot back but they were outgunned. Them niggas was bustin’ with AKs or some heavy shit like that.”