I sat down next to John, trying to get my emotional bearings. I kept thinking about Rigel getting hit by the truck. The horrifying thud. His scream. The heat of the truck engine.
Meanwhile my father stood in the doorway with the two cops, greeting them like a host and shaking their hands. “Officer Mullen, any relation to Jimmy Mullen? Owns a PVC pipe company? We’re on the Chamber together.”
“Jimmy’s my uncle.” The cop grinned. “He speaks highly of you.”
“As well he should,” my father shot back. “Send my regards, will you? Jimmy’s a great guy. Helluva golfer.”
“He cheats.”
“Who doesn’t?” my father said, and they both laughed.
“Please, sit down.” The other officer gestured my father into a chair next to me, but he sat down at the head of the table, then took over.
“Officers, I think we need to talk about the press. I expect you will not be releasing the details of this incident.”
Officer Mullen nodded. “We release the minimum, as per procedure.”
“Good.” My father smiled. “I don’t know if there will be civil litigation, but you know how people are. When they find a deep pocket, they call 1-800-Fund-My-Retirement.”
Officer Mullen chuckled. “I hear that.”
“So you won’t speak to any plaintiff’s lawyers who happen to call, will you?”
“No, we always refer them to Courtney, in Comms.”
“Good, thanks.”
“By the way, sorry about that burglary at your office. One of my buddies met you last night. Jason Dembek.”
“Right, good guy. Any leads yet?”
“No, but they’re working on it.”
“Good. The management company agreed to put up some lights, now that the horse is out of the barn.” My father snorted. “Anyway, how can we help you? We’re happy to cooperate—”
“Dad?” John interrupted him. “I’ll take it from here. I’m representing TJ.”
My father blinked. “John, we’re not here in any professional capacity. We’re here as family, and we’re happy to help—”
“No, we’re not.”
“Of course we are.” My father frowned. “There’s no need to come out swinging.”
“It’s the law,” John snapped.
Gulp. I knew why my brother was going on the offensive, but my father didn’t.
John turned to the cops. “Officers, a pickup truck struck a man. The driver of the pickup is the one you should be questioning, not my brother.”
“We are questioning her, too.”
“Then why wasn’t she brought here for questioning? She was interviewed at her home.”
“I assume it was a courtesy.”
“That’s my point. Why wasn’t my brother afforded the same courtesy? I don’t think she was even breathalyzed.” John shrugged pointedly. “Do you know if she was?”
Officer Mullen hesitated. “Uh, no, I don’t.”
“My brother hasn’t broken any laws, so I’m at a loss to explain why we’re here. I think it’s aggressive and discriminatory.”
My father recoiled, grimacing. “John, really?”
“Yes, Dad.”
My father turned to the cops. “Officers, I’m sorry, my son John is protective—”
“Dad.” John looked over. “Please, don’t apologize for me. I’m doing my job.”
My father glared at him. “You don’t need to be adversarial.”
“This is custodial interrogation.” John turned to the cops. “I’m surprised you didn’t Mirandize him.”
Officer Mullen straightened. “We consider this an informal interview.”
“Until it’s not. But by then, it’s too late for my brother.”
Officer Mullen met John’s eye, his demeanor cooling. “Your brother’s on parole. He served a year for endangering the welfare of a child.”
“Is that why you hauled him in here, but not the driver? That’s discrimination. My brother served his time. He pleaded guilty and accepted responsibility. His crime was a misdemeanor, induced by alcohol. He made a mistake and was punished. Evidently, he’s still being punished.”
I swallowed hard. I’d never heard John defend what I’d done, even when I couldn’t.
Officer Mullen shook his head. “We didn’t bring him here because of his record. We brought him here because we needed to complete the investigation. He seemed ready, willing, and able to answer our questions. We’re entitled to investigate whether he’s in violation of his parole.”
“He’s sober and doesn’t possess a firearm. The only possible parole violation would be if you suspect him of commission of another crime. And I can’t imagine the facts on which you would base such a belief.”
Officer Mullen frowned. “That’s what we’re here to determine. We can’t complete the investigation if he won’t answer questions.”
“The accident tonight happened in front of eyewitnesses. I know, I was there. Any one of them could help you complete the investigation.”
“They weren’t involved.”
John leaned forward, bearing down. “ ‘Involved’ is an imprecise term, irrelevant here. The only person with any criminal culpability is the driver, whom you’re treating with kid gloves.”
“We’d like to understand your brother’s relationship to Mr. Rigel.”
John shook his head. “No, you’re fishing for a parole violation, and I’m not going to let you. My brother has a Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination. I’m minutes from concluding this so-called interview.”
“Fine, have it your way.” Officer Mullen bristled. “It’s our understanding that your brother was running after Mr. Rigel. We’d like to know why.”
“I’m not going to let him answer.”
“Does your brother deny he was chasing Mr. Rigel?”
“I’m instructing him not to answer that.”
“Was your brother engaged in an altercation with Mr. Rigel?”
“Instructing him not to answer that, either.”
“How do your brother and Mr. Rigel know each other?”
“Officer Mullen, what do you know about this Rigel? What’s his occupation?”
“I’m not here to answer your questions. You’re here to answer ours. Does your brother know the victim?”
“Victim?” John repeated, his eyebrows lifting. “My brother’s a victim, too. He had to jump out of the way of the pickup. The driver was speeding and she was on her phone. Eyewitnesses told me so, and you would know that, too, if you interviewed them. My brother could have been grievously injured like Mr. Rigel.”
Officer Mullen paused. “Mr. Rigel was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital.”
No, no, no. A wave of guilt engulfed me. If only I hadn’t chased him. If only I hadn’t gone to the apartment. I had so many what-ifs, so many questions. Did Rigel kill Lemaire? Why had Rigel come to my home group? I didn’t know if any of the answers mattered now. They wouldn’t change the fact that Rigel’s life ended because of me.
“This interview is over.” John shot up, motioning me to my feet. “Let’s go, TJ.”
I rose on weak knees.
My father followed, grave.
We walked outside, and as soon as we were alone on the street, my father turned on us, furious. “I swear, I don’t know which of you embarrassed me more. TJ, I’ll deal with you when we get home. John, what the hell were you thinking?”
John stopped. “Dad, there’s a lot you don’t—”
“Shut up! Let’s go, TJ. I’m in the garage across the street. I’ll take you to pick up your car. I don’t want a word out of you on the way, not one word. I’m calling your mother. She’s worried sick.” My father stalked across the street, taking out his phone.
John and I exchanged looks. We both knew we’d have it out at the house.
I dreaded the scene, but it was time.