She examined his face and then his ribs. She told him she was going to order x-rays of the ribs and a CT scan of his facial bones and brain. She then asked him if he would like some pain medication.
“I’ll pass on that,” he said.
“Are you sure?” she enquired. “It’s going to be a little while before we’re able to do the sedation and reduction. A little Demerol will take the edge off for you and get you more comfortable.”
“I’m cool, doc,” he said. “A good friend of mine started taking that Demerol shit once. It didn’t work out too well for him in the end.”
“I see,” she said slowly. “Well ... let one of the nurses know if you change your mind. I’m going to put these orders in and we’ll hopefully get you out of here in a few hours.”
“Sounds good,” Jake said.
She left the room. The little stool she had sat her butt on did not even have a chance to return to room temperature before the door opened again. This time it was a uniformed Las Vegas Metropolitan police officer. He was tall, looked to be in good shape, sported a mustache, and had a reasonably friendly expression on his face. He carried a metal clipboard in his left hand. He introduced himself as Officer Levitt and asked if he could come in and have a few words.
“Sure, why not?” Jake replied.
Levitt came in the room and shut the door behind him. He did not sit down. “I just want to tell you, Jake,” he said, “that I’m a big fan of yours. I was at the TSF last night and you put on an incredible show; the best live performance I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been to quite a few in my time.”
“Thanks,” Jake said. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“I enjoyed your playing as well, Mrs. Kingsley,” he told Laura. “It was a pleasant surprise when you stepped out there with him to do South Island Blur. Did you really fly in from Poland the night before?”
“I really did,” she confirmed. “The last show of Celia Valdez’s tour was Thursday night. I got on a plane in Warsaw the next morning and made it here by eight o’clock the night before the show.”
“That’s a lot of traveling,” he said.
“It’s part of the life we choose,” she said, using a Jake-ism.
“Well, I’m glad you made it. I just wanted the two of you to know that before we get to why I’m really here.”
“The fight I was involved in,” Jake said. It was not a question.
“That’s correct,” Levitt said. “My partner and I just got done interviewing two of the other parties involved in the confrontation you had this morning. They named you and Nerdly Archer as the primary aggressors in the fight.”
“Did they now?” Jake asked. “Are they planning to press charges against us?”
“They do not wish to do that,” Levitt said. “However, one of them has fractured facial bones and a concussion.”
“I’m guessing that would be the one I punched,” Jake said with a smile.
“Uh ... Jake, before you say anything else,” Levitt said, “I think I need to advise you of your rights.”
“My rights?” Jake asked. “You just said they’re not pressing charges.”
“They’re not,” he said, “but, as I said, one of them has fractured facial bones and a concussion. The other has several broken ribs and is being checked for internal injuries or a collapsed lung. These injuries are on the border of what we call ‘great bodily harm’, which elevates a simple misdemeanor assault up into the land of a felonious assault. If the assault is classified as a felony, they have no choice in the matter. The state of Nevada will then pursue prosecution.”
“I see,” Jake said. “This same shit happened to Coop a few months ago in Bangor.”
“Coop?” Levitt asked. “The drummer for Intemperance?”
“Yeah, he’s Celia Valdez’s drummer now,” Jake said. “He punched a copilot in the face and broke his jaw. Ended up with the same fracture I have now—life really is a wheel, isn’t it? The Bangor PD charged Coop with felony assault, but the DA ended up reducing it to a misdemeanor. And then they eventually just dropped the whole thing because Njord the copilot didn’t want to come back to Bangor to testify against him.”
“That is a remarkably similar parallel,” Levitt said. “And that is undoubtedly exactly what will happen in this case, assuming we even decide to charge anyone with a felony. I am, however, still obligated to read you your Miranda rights at this point in the interview.”
“Read away,” Jake said. “I’ll answer your questions.”
Levitt read him his rights. Jake agreed to waive them for the time being and signed a piece of paper attesting that he was voluntarily waiving those rights. Levitt then began to ask him questions, walking him through the entire incident. Jake, as he had promised, answered everything truthfully.
“So ... Nerdly Archer threw the first punch?” Levitt asked incredulously.
“He did, but only after the guy he punched called Nerdly’s wife a ‘dick-sucking kike cunt’ and then ordered her to drop down and start sucking his dick.”
“Did he make any threatening move toward Mrs. Archer?” Levitt asked next.
“No, but Nerdly believed—and I agree—that he was obligated to defend her honor at that point.”
“Under the law, mere words are not considered justification for assault,” Levitt pointed out.
“Perhaps,” Jake said, “but if someone had said that to your wife right in front of you, would you have punched him out?”
Levitt nodded. “I very likely would have,” he admitted. He, after all, was Jewish as well.
They went through the rest of the story, Levitt making notes in his little book all the while. Finally, he summarized everything Jake had said and asked him of that was a fair representation of his statement.
“Yes,” Jake said. “That is a fair representation.”
“Okay,” Levitt said. “I will confer with my partner and we’ll see what we’re going to do with this information. I will tell you that the Pantera crew members in question are telling pretty much the same story—though they did not mention exactly what was said to provoke Nerdly’s assault. In any case, it’s kind of refreshing for us cops when people actually tell us the truth. We’re not accustomed to that.”
“No reason to lie,” Jake said. “It was a brawl. It’s over now and we’re dealing with the consequences.”
“I’ll let you know what we decide,” Levitt said.
A moment later, he left the room. A few minutes after that, a male nurse named Robert came in, introduced himself, told Jake that he was a fan, and then started an IV in Jake’s left forearm. After taping it down, he offered Jake some Demerol for pain, telling him that Dr. Wei had put in an order for it if Jake wanted some. Jake turned him down and then Robert personally wheeled Jake on his gurney over to the diagnostic imaging department, waited around until the imaging was done, and then wheeled him back to his room.
It took almost an hour before the imaging was read. It turned out that Jake had two cracked ribs but no signs of internal injury or lung involvement. He had no broken bones in his face and no signs of bleeding in his brain. It was now time for the procedural sedation.
Dr. Wei and another ER doctor came into the room, followed by Robert the nurse, a respiratory therapist, and an ER technician with an armful of splinting supplies. Jake eyed the group nervously.
“Is all this really necessary?” he asked.
“It is the standard of care when doing a procedural sedation,” Dr. Wei told him. “Dr. Jones will administer and monitor the sedation while I perform the actual reduction. The respiratory therapist will keep an eye on your breathing and oxygen levels and respond as necessary. Robert will document everything and keep overwatch on your general condition. And Kelly here will put the splint on once the reduction is done.”