"This is a macho thing with these people," the lawyer said.
His name was Morris Weinstein. He represented a great many Hispanic offenders, but he still referred to them as "these people." He also referred to blacks as "these people." He probably had no idea that a great many WASPS in this country referred to Jews as "these people." This was a funny country, America.
"He calls some shrimp a fag, and all at once the shrimp turns around and beats the shit out of him," Weinstein said.
"M/'ve been a big surprise," Carella said understandingly. He was thinking they were going to throw the fucking book at Ruiz for shooting and hanging Tilly.
"Terrible thing to happen," Weinstein said. "In terms of the macho sensibility.”
"Yeah, terrible," Carella said.
"I'm thinking a 125.20," Weinstein said.
Meyer blinked.
"Manslaughter One," Weinstein said, as if they didn't know.
Meyer blinked again.
"In that this was a cultural thing committed under the influence of extreme emotional disturbance.”
"Uh-huh," Carella said.
"Over which he had no real control," Weinstein said.
"Uh-huh," Carella said.
"So what are you thinking?”
"We're thinking Murder Two," Carella said. "In that he went uptown with the express purpose ...”
"Well, we don't know that, do we?”
Weinstein said.
"... of putting a bullet in Tilly's head.”
"Well, if you're going to put it that way,”
Weinstein said.
Carella tried to think of another way to put it.
"You have to understand these people," Weinstein said.
"Uh-huh.”
"I read a book about Mexico," Weinstein said, "that explained wall-writing as a cultural trait. This is why you see so much graffiti in Hispanic neighborhoods.”
"Is that why?" Carella said.
"Yes. It's a cultural thing.”
Carella was happy to learn that writing on walls was a cultural thing.
"He's admitted to shooting Tilly,”
Weinstein said. "The important thing is to understand why.”
"Yes, well, perhaps you can explain why at the trial," Carella said.
"Why are you being such a shit?" Weinstein asked.
"Because what we have here is a confession of murder," Carella said.
"Oh well, that," Weinstein said.
"Yes, oh well, that. You were there when he admitted seeing Tilly ...”
"Yes, but ...”
"... standing outside the building waiting for someone ...”
"We don't know that for a fact ...”
"... forcing him to go down to the basement at gunpoint ...”
"Yes, but ...”
"Shooting him in the back of the head ...”
"Yes ...”
"And then stringing him up.”
"That's what I mean about the cultural aspect.”
"Yeah, that's very cultural," Meyer said.
"Hanging a man from the ceiling after you've shot him.”
"As a matter of fact, it is.”
"We've already had people hanging from lampposts,”
Carella said.
"What?" Weinstein said.
"Up here," Meyer said. "Young girls hanging from lampposts.”
"Track stars," Carella said. "Hanging from lampposts.”
"And it wasn't cultural," Meyer said.
"This was. Tilly had to be punished, don't you see? Not only shot, but punished, hanged from the ceiling as an example to others. Which is exactly why I'm looking for Manslaughter One. This man was in the grip of an emotional ...”
"Bullshit," Meyer said. "He was in the grip of coming up here and shooting somebody in cold blood.”
"Because this person had humiliated him. You heard him say that, didn't you? That he'd been humiliated?”
"Yes, we heard him say it. We also heard him say ...”
"Humiliation," Weinstein said. "An important thing in the countries these people come from.
Face. Losing face. The whole cultural macho thing.”
“It's a pity that isn't the culture here,”
Carella said. "Because here, we're going to ask the D.A. for Murder Two.”
"I guess I'll have to discuss that with him when he gets here," Weinstein said, and sighed deeply.
"Yes, you discuss it.”
"Because you heard my client say, didn't you ...?was "We heard him say he went up to Diamondback to blow Tilly away. Those were his exact words, to blow Tilly away. We've got them on tape.”
"Exactly my point. Cultural bragging.”
"Bullshit," Meyer said again.
"I'll admit to a Class-B and get him off with a year," Weinstein said. "He'll be out in four months.”
They knew he was right.
12.
Forget the veined and bulbous nose, forget the razor nicks on his chin and cheeks, forget even the ill-fitting and somewhat rumpled suit. There was something more than his disheveled appearance that told you Frank Unger had long ago lost touch with anything more meaningful than alcohol. Lowell had not called him as a witness because he'd felt there was nothing positive he could add to their case.
Santa Claus Addison was clearly taking a chance by calling him now. The man seemed bewildered at finding himself here in a courtroom, the center of attraction at this moment in time. Watching him as he was sworn in that Monday morning, Carella couldn't imagine anyone on the jury believing a word he had to say.
"Mr. Unger," Addison said, "can you tell me where you live, please?”
"At 7828 Harrison Street, apartment 24.”
"How long have you lived in that neighborhood?”
"Fourteen years now. Be fourteen years in April," Unger said.
His voice was whiskey-raw, he had on his face an intense look of concentration, as if the very act of listening was difficult for him. Carella noticed that his fingers were nicotine-stained.
"Are you familiar, sir, with a liquor store called Empire Wines and Spirits at 7832 Harrison Street?”
"I am.”
"Do you occasionally shop at that store?”
"I do.”
"Mr. Unger, I ask you to think back to the night of July seventeenth last year, it was a Tuesday night, Mr. Unger, do you think you can recall back that far?”
"I think so.”
"A very hot night, we were having a hot summer, do you recall that night?”
"Yes, I do.”
"Mr. Unger, did you go to Empire Wines and Spirits that night at any time?”
"Yes, I did.”
"Would you happen to remember what time it was that you went there?”
"Around nine o'clock.”
"You recall that, do you?”
"Yes. I'd just given the cat some dry food -I like to make sure she's got food in her bowl all the time, there's just the two of us, you see -and I thought I'd have myself a little nightcap while I watched the ten o'clock news. What I usually do, I give the cat her dry food, and then I have a little nightcap while I watch the news. I usually go to sleep at eleven. That's my usual routine.”
"But that night you say you went down to the liquor store.”
"Yes. Because there wasn't anything in the house.
I'd run out, you see. So I decided I'd go down for some. To the liquor store. I knew they'd be open till ten.”
"And you say you went down at about nine.”
"Around then. It's just a few doors up the street, you see.”
"On the same side of the street as a bakery shop, isn't it?”
"Well, the shop's not there anymore.”
"But there used to be a shop at 7834 Harrison, didn't there?”
"Yes.”
"Called the AandL Bakery, isn't that right?”
"Yes.”
"Right next door to the liquor store.”
"Yes.”
"Mr. Unger, how long would you say you were in the liquor store?”
"Oh, fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“You got there at what time?”
"Five after nine? Ten after?”