“Names?”
“Bubba Washington.”
“Bubba Jefferson.”
“And, how do you know Leroy Laqueisha?”
“Who?”
“Yeah – who?”
“Leroy Laqueisha?”
“We don’t know anybody named Leroy…whatever.”
“Nope. Sorry.”
“Okay. Let me put it a different way: he was the black kid who was beaten to death, then shot 17 times, then strung up high on a tree branch, then had his body set on fire. Ring any bells?”
“Oh.”
“Him.”
“Yeah. Him. So, how did you know him?”
“Well, we was just walking down the street -“
“Minding our own business -“
“Just like the model citizens that we are.”
“When BOOM! He appeared!”
“Out of nowhere!”
“Totally unexpected!”
“A complete surprise!”
“A total shocker!”
“So, you beat him to death?”
“When he appeared, I was half scared to death!”
“I…I was three quarters scared to death!”
“I was fifteen sixteenths scared to death.”
“Okay, that may be pushing it a little.”
“Point is: we was scared.”
“Afraid, see?”
“Afraid for our lives.”
“Afraid for your lives?”
“That’s what we said.”
“Mortal terror, I believe it’s called.”
“Washington, how tall are you?”
“Five foot eleven.”
“And, how much do you weigh?”
“Three hundred and…can we just leave it at 300 pounds?”
“Sure. Jefferson?”
“Six foot one. Three hundred and fifteen pounds.”
“Right. And, you expect me to believe that you were scared by a five foot two kid who may have weighed all of 110 pounds.”
“He had the element of surprise, didn’t he?”
“My heart just about stopped when he appeared out of nowhere.”
“My heart did stop, for a couple of seconds. I had to consciously restart it.”
“Okay. I get it. You were scared. So, why didn’t you phone 9-1-1?”
“We did.”
“Well, I did.”
“Yes. He did. He phoned 9-1-1.”
“And, what did they tell you?”
“They told us they were sending somebody, and we should stay away from the guy who was scaring us so much.”
“And, what did you do?”
“We followed him for 20 minutes.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Well, he was acting all suspicious, wasn’t he?”
“What was suspicious about him?”
“Well, he was…you know…”
“Yeah. Don’t make us say it.”
“Because we will. Say it.”
“We will totally say it.”
“Say what?”
“What?”
“What will you say?”
“Umm…what was the question?”
“What was so suspicious about Leroy Laqueisha that you followed him for 20 minutes?”
“Well, he was black, wasn’t he?”
“Obviously.”
“That’s suspicious?”
“In our neighbourhood it is.”
“He was wearing a hoofie.”
“Hoodie?”
“Yeah. That.”
“That made him super-suspicious.”
“Like he was trying to hide something.”
“Hoodie – hidey. See the connection?”
“Right. But, hold on. You said you were scared of him. Why would you follow Leroy Laqueisha if you were scared of him?”
“Ah, well…”
“Yes, umm…”
“We got over it.”
“Yeah. In those 20 minutes, we weren’t scared of him.”
“Oooookay. So, after you followed him for 20 minutes, then what happened?”
“He turned to face us.”
“Un hunh.”
“And we was scared all over again.”
“That’s when you beat him to death?”
“Well, no. First, he drew a weapon.”
“Yeah. He had the drop on us.”
“We had to think fast.”
“We had to defend ourselves from him. I swear, officer, he was armed and dangerous!”
“What was he armed with, exactly?”
“A…a bag of Skittles!”
“Skittles are not a weapon.”
“You don’t think so? Really? Well, you just ask a lab rat that has gotten cancer from eating 27 bagfuls of the suckers in a half an hour what he thinks about Skittles being a weapon!”
“So, you beat Leroy Laqueisha to death because you were afraid he was going to attack you with a bag of Skittles.”
“Well, it sounds ridiculous when you put it that way, but you have to understand, WE WAS SCARED.”
“When you’re scared, you ain’t exactly thinking straight.”
“Fear is like that.”
“So. Leroy Laqueisha is lying on the ground in front of you, a bloody pulp. Why did you shoot him?”
“To make sure he was dead.”
“We was still fearful.”
“Uh hunh. Then, after you beat him to death and shot him, you hung him from a tree. Why did you do that?”
“Fear. Fear that he wasn’t quite – you know – dead.”
“It’s a powerful motivator, fear is.”
“It certainly is.”
“And, you burned the body because…”
“You even have to ask?”
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to charge you good old boys with murder.”
“Murder?”
“You can’t charge us with murder.”
“Why not?”
“We was just standing our ground.”
“Did you…just wink at me?”
“No, sir.”
“It’s hard to tell with those white sheets you seem to be wearing as hoods, but I could have sworn you just winked at me.”
“No, sir. We was scared, and we defended ourselves, and according to the state’s Stand Your Ground law, that’s good enough.”
“Hmm…okay. You fellas seem to know your law, so I guess I’ll have to let you go. But, don’t do it again, because next time you might not be so lucky.”