57.

And then I was sitting in the witness chair at Sergeant Perkins’s court-martial.

“So, Mister Ryan, here is what I want to know,” the major prosecuting the case asks me. “You brought Sergeant Perkins to your office for questioning. Is that correct?”

Remember Sergeant Perkins, who started this story off?

“Yessir. Correct.”

“Very good. Do you recognize this document?”

The major hands me Sergeant Perkins’s confession.

“Yessir. It’s a confession form.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Ryan, but who’s the confession from?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to read it, sir.”

“You don’t recognize it? I mean, don’t you recognize Sergeant Perkins’s signature here at the end?”

“Major, I’ve taken a lot of these. They kind of run together. We want to be sure, don’t we?”

“Of course. Of course. Look it over. Take your time.”

I glanced through it.

“Yes, it was signed by a Sergeant Perkins, sir.”

A Sergeant Perkins?!” the captain defending Sergeant Perkins says, jumping up. “Don’t you remember, Mister Ryan?”

“Well, as I said, we do this a lot.”

“OK, Mister Ryan,” the major interjects. “Let’s talk about the rights of Sergeant Perkins. Did you read him his rights?”

The captain sits back down. I’m sure he thinks he played enough drama to convince everyone the trial is on the up and up—that he actually cares about Sergeant Perkins.

“We read everyone their rights. It’s a matter of office policy.”

“But Mister Ryan, did you read Sergeant Perkins his rights? That’s who we’re concerned with here. Sergeant Perkins. The man sitting over there. You remember him, don’t you?”

Sergeant Perkins looks at the floor.

“He seems familiar, sir.”

The defender and the prosecutor look at each other. The colonel acting as judge raps his pencil on his desk.

For a moment I hear it as boom, boom, snare. Boom, boom, snare.

“So, Mister Ryan, did you, in fact, read Sergeant Perkins his rights?” the major asks after the colonel quits rapping.

“Well, as I said, it is our policy to read everyone his or her rights.”

“But did you specifically read Sergeant Perkins his rights?”

“I see here that he initialed the part about being read his rights. It’s right on the form.” Then, as an afterthought, I add: “Sir.”

The colonel acting as judge clears his throat.

“I think I’ve heard enough. I am going to dismiss this case. Sergeant Perkins you can go.”

Sergeant Perkins stands up and looks around, as if he’s waking up. He seems taller than I remembered. His defender snaps his briefcase closed.

“What kind of bullshit is this?” the colonel asks after they leave. “You’re a disgrace to the US Army, Mister Ryan.”

Maybe, though, just maybe I’ve done something good. Sergeant Perkins is a free man. I got him off.

image

“Ryan, what kind of a cute, fucking performance was that,” the major prosecuting the case asks as we walk out of the courtroom. “What’s this ‘We would usually read them their rights’ stuff?”

“Well, I . . .” I begin.

He looks at me as if I were something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

“You know, Ryan, it doesn’t matter. Your stupid little try to wipe your hands clean of us doesn’t matter. The fact is, we’ve got Sergeant Perkins cold. He’s already in jail, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

“But the trial’s over.”

“But not the next trial, Sergeant Ryan, or the one after that. The army doesn’t like these married men living with their girlfriends. It’s bad for our image. Sergeant Perkins is going to Leavenworth.”

“But . . .”

“The truth is what we say it is, Ryan. Never forget this, even after you leave the army. One more thing.”

“Yessir.”

“Just remember. We always win. Always.”

“Boom, boom, snare,” I mutter. “Boom, boom, snare.”

“Dismissed, Mister Ryan. You’re dismissed.”