I'm expressing with my full capabilities
And now I'm living in correctional facilities
Cause some don't agree with how I do this
I get straight and meditate like a Buddhist
I'm dropping flavor, my behavior is hereditary
But my technique is very necessary.

Express Yourself ~ N.W.A.

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In a clear violation of our deal, Jeff did not even attempt to get me out of here as fast as possible. Instead, they just left me to rot in this cinder brick box. Securely shackled to their stainless steel torture table for what feels like forever.

Three hours later, I am still sitting in the same cinder brick box. Still handcuffed to the same steel ring in the same stainless steel torture table. Only now I have to take a piss so bad that it's killing me. When I finally see Mutt's stupid face glaring down at me through the tiny little glass window steel door.

"Hey, I need to use the bathroom!" I yell at him through the tiny window, only to see his satisfied smirk skin back into a sickening smile.

When the heavy steel door finally opens up, revealing one of the last people on the planet I expect to see. My Uncle Ray is standing there in a seriously loud Hawaiian hula girl shirt and Bermuda short combo. Looking about ten times more pissed off than I am at the moment.

"Uncle Ray? What the hell is..." I immediately start running my mouth.

"Shut it." Ray snaps, moving his massive bulk into the interrogation room and glances around in clear disdain.

"Lucky you, looks like your liar is here?" Mutt smirks sarcastically. Probably thinking he was pretty smart in substituting "liar" for "lawyer" almost effectively.

"Liar huh? Wow, what a very clever turn of phrase there defective." Ray mugs his massive jowls. "So either one of you two defectives, want to start explaining to me why you have a juvenile handcuffed to a table in a restraining position?"

"Because he's not being cooperative with our investigation?" Mutt smirks.

"He is not in a restraint position, counselor." Jeff shoots a scowl over at Mutt for being either too truthful or too stupid. "As you can clearly see, he is only handcuffed for his own protection, per department policy."

"Then I suggest that you charge him with something or uncuff him. But what you do not do is leave a juvenile locked up for hours without access to a restroom. In order to water torture him to submission, so you can come back in and steamroll some false confession out of him, just to make your case." Ray eyes the defectives coldly. "Or didn't they teach you that in defective school either?"

"You better watch your mouth Mr. Liar, and start showing Detective Jefferson some due respect. Or you'll be in here sharing a cell with your so-called client." Mutt starts running his mouth and making threats.

"Sounds great, defective Dodge. Yes, I think you should do exactly that? Arresting the attorney for pointing out your unconstitutional torture tactics?" Ray muses meanly. "That way when I sue you for violating my juvenile clients' constitutional rights? For all the cruel and unusual, and dare I say, torturous interrogation tactics? Then I can just go ahead and add my own action for false arrest to that lawsuit too?"

So while I am not really sure I have a constitutional right to be tortured per se? All the rest of that lawsuit stuff sounds pretty good. But then again, that could just be Ray messing with Mutts head for fun?

"Then you can explain your theory of absolute awesome authority to the city treasurer." Ray smiles wide like a shark showing all his shiny white sharp teeth. "You know ...right before they sign me over that big fat fucking check with some major zeros for my troubles?"

"So what's it going to be, defective Dodge? You still want to keep playing loose cannon with me? Or you want to drop the tough guy act, and just go ahead and release my client into my custody now? Maybe even save the city a couple of hundred thousand bucks on the back end of all this bullshit?"

"Take it, easy counselor, no one is under arrest ...yet." Jeff smiles slowly. "We were just about to transfer him to a holding cell when you walked in and started making demands. So uncuff him while you consult, no problem? But we gonna hold him for a while, at least until we get finished sorting out the search warrant. Satisfied counselor?"

"Obviously not," Ray replies evenly. "Now cuffs off and I want a word with my client ...alone."

"Suit yourself counselor, he's all yours." Jeff unlocks my cuffs. Then Jeff makes a show out of spins the cuffs around in his finger nonchalantly as he and Mutt stroll out the door. As soon as the cuffs are off, I am up and rubbing my wrists.

"What the hell is happening..." I immediately start in.

"Shut up and don't say another word, until I am finished talking." Ray cuts me off clean before I can finish the thought.

"Okay so here's the deal, Christian. Somehow or another you have gotten yourself into the mix on some very serious shit. As to exactly how much shit you are in is unclear at the moment?" Ray scowls out at the mirror on the wall. "However, what is very clear is that if you want to get yourself into even deeper shit than you are already in? You'll keep running that smart mouth of yours some more. Understood?"

"Understood." I nod nonce.

"Okay, pay very close attention to what I am about to say. Because I do not want to waste my breath repeating this twice." Ray starts spitting out staccato instructions inhumanely fast and furious. "So from here on out, I have three simple rules for you to follow. And lucky for you rule one and three are exactly the same."

"Rule number one, shut the fuck up. Rule number two, should you be put in a position where said 'shutting the fuck up' is an impossibility for any reason? You demand your lawyer, which is obviously me for the moment." He slaps his business card down on the table between us. "And finally rule number three. Immediately after asking for your lawyer, you go right back to shutting the fuck up once again."

"So to reiterate our rules once more." He points his middle finger right at me. "Shut the fuck up."

He raises his index finger to flash me a number two peace sign. "Lawyer, lawyer, lawyer."

"Then shut the fuck up again." He folds his index finger back down and back to the middle finger once more. "Now any difficulty whatsoever understanding these three simple rules, as I just laid them out for you?"

I shake my head silently.

"Now just to clarify what I mean by shutting the fuck up? That means no words, actions, reactions, and/or funny facial expressions. Gestures like nodding along or shaking your head, sign language, or Morse-fucking-code? Now any difficulties understanding this clarification as explained?" He raises finger number one. "Blink once for yes, twice for no."

I make a show of slowly blinking twice for "no".

"Oh, and for fuck's sake don't sign anything." Ray pauses. "Wait...you didn't sign anything stupid, right?"

I slowly blink once for yes.

"Fuck me, what the hell did you sign?" Ray demands. "Speak slowly in very small words this time." 

"They made me sign and initial some form thing? About how they read me my rights at the beginning of this bullshit?" I explain as slowly as possible.

"Is that it? Nothing else?" Ray's eyes narrow.

"No, nothing else." I shake my head slowly.

"Okay, no biggie, don't worry about that bullshit for now." Ray relaxes slightly. "So when they read your rights, did you ask for a lawyer or what?"

"Yeah, eventually?" I nod back.

"Okay, we will talk more about that later, when it's relevant again?" Ray waves the thought away. "Now shut the fuck up again, cause I gonna spiel some more shit at you."

"So about four hours ago, shortly after you took your little road trip down here." Ray starts to explain his sudden presence in the mix. "While you were sitting in the police station dicking around with these detectives? A bunch of local yokels with guns and badges pushed their way into Rowena's house with a warrant. Where they started ripping the place apart and trashing her house like a frat party gone wrong. Apparently under the guise of looking for evidence of some kid's murder."

"Now as you might imagine, Rowena was very unhappy about this awesome interruption of her quiet little life out here in Shitkickerville. So Ro being Ro, she immediately called my wife Corrine bitching up a storm. Who you might remember as your mother's second-cousin Cory? But don't call her that, cause she hates it. Reminds her of when she was fat in high school, for some reason?" Ray rolls his heavy shoulders in what I assume is some sort of shrug.

"So then I got the pleasure of driving my highly-agitated-super-bitchy-mode wife, all the way over here from her lovely lake house. In order to check on Rowena, to make sure she is not going to have another one of her agoraphobic anxiety attack things again? So my witchy wife snatched up Rowena away from the swine and swooped her away back to our vacay house at the lake." Rays paused then added as an errant afterthought. "Probably just so my twin twelve-year-old demonic girl spawns from hell don't burn down the lake house they love to hate so much?"

"After which my wife in her infinite wisdom, made me come down here and take care of your dumb ass." Ray scowls darkly out at the steel door. "Now as you might imagine, this was not really the way I wanted to spend my Fourth of July weekend."

I blink back emphatically twice to this.

"Now between me and you, these cops are gonna keep you here at the station for at least the night. Probably the next two days, maybe even longer if they can?"

"What the fu..." I mouth silently.

To wit, Ray instantly flashes both his middle fingers up at me again making an X. I sigh and flip him the bird back. Right, shut the F-up ...got it.

"So listen up and listen up real good, because I am about to school you on how to win a war." Ray starts moving his massive bulk around the small interrogation room. "This shit is the real deal, Christian. A life or death struggle for your mind, body, and soul. And you absolutely need to treat it that way, if you want to win this war."

"So for as long as you are in here? You are a prisoner of war, in a battle that you don't yet understand. In this war, these fucking defectives are not your friends. They are in fact your mortal enemies from this moment forward." As if that fact wasn't made clear to me yet.

"They are going to lie, cheat, and steal every chance they get." Ray starts listing out the various ways this war will be won. "They are going to try to mess with your head, every conceivable way they can. They won't let you sleep or go to the bathroom or feed you. Do everything they can think of to make you weak and vulnerable to their fascist brand of bully bullshit."

"Anything and everything they can do to try to get you talking to them. Then they are going to try to break you down into a place where you will tell them everything and anything they want to hear. Get you confessing to anything you did, or did not do. And they will absolutely record each and everything you say, to use against you later. Whether it is true or not, even if it's not true...just so that they will leave you alone.

"And when that doesn't work? That's then they will really start lying to you." Ray starts listing off the various scenarios. "They will tell you that they have evidence that they don't actually have. They will try to put you in a bullshit line up, then tell you witness who doesn't even exist picked you out as a suspect. Take you down to the morgue to face the victim's corpse for fun."

"Throw you in a cell with a super chatty shithead snitch, who wants to be your brand new best fucking friend. Who wants to know everything there is to know about you, and why you are here? Or anyone of the hundreds of bullshit tricks they have up their sleeves."

"But before you say anything stupid like that's not fair? That's not right? Hell, that's not even legal?" Ray snorts like a raging bull. "Well, guess what? Boo-fucking-hoo-for-you-boyo."

"Cause they can do all that shit and then some. Because the Supreme Court of the United States has said its all cool. In fact, the Supremes even said that lying and deceiving suspects are the best tools that cops have to make a crappy case."

"Now just think about that for a second? Lying their defective asses off is the best thing a cop can do to solve a case? Which translates to the better the cop the better the liar?" Ray emphasizes his heresy. "But if a suspect lies, or even slightly shades the truth a little in their favor? Well then clearly you're guilty of whatever they want you to be guilty of today."

"So the bottom line here, is that the system is stacked against you. And the only thing you have that can stop all this bullshit? The one person that these assholes aren't allowed to lie to ...is your lawyer." Ray thumps his chest twice like the mighty great ape. "Which in case that was lost on you is why cops hate lawyers so much? Because we keep them honest. And trust me when I tell you, cops really hate being honest."

"But the thing is I know you, Christain. And you're an amazingly tough little shit." Ray actually grins at this insult. "Not to mention, that you're shitton smarter than you look."

"So you want to win the war with these defectives? It's easy, just follow the fucking rules. One ...two ...three, and repeat as needed." Ray repeats his three-step finger flashing thing at me. "And lucky for you one and three are exactly the same."

"Now while all this bullshit is going on in here? Know that I am working my ass off to get you out of here. Not because I am an altruistic soul working on some good karma points fighting the good fight. Or that we have some second-hand family connection between my wife, Rowena, and your poor mother?" Ray actually crosses himself with his flipping fingers over my mother's passing.

"No, it's so that I can go back to my nice vacation house on the lake. Try to enjoy what is little left of my Fourth of July weekend in relative peace and quiet. Get a little hammered and maybe pretend to play some golf?" He muses over his master hammer plan. "All without having my very unhappy wife up my fat ass the entire time over you and Ro."

"Now I will do my job to the absolute best of my ability, but I need you to do yours too. Be the best silent stubborn silent little stump you can be. Understood?" Ray eyes me hard and I see the trap he's laid out for me.

It's pretty clear that the "Understood?" at the end is a trick question. One that requires an answer of some sort that does not involve blinking.

"Lawyer," I whisper, then tap my middle finger on the steel table three times.

"See there, that wasn't so hard at all, was it?" I see Ray slightly relax back into his normal shark smirk. "To wit, now I gotta get going and get to work on getting you outta here."

"Oh, and don't think for a second these defectives didn't just listen in on every single word I just said to you. From the other side of that fake ass two-way Miami Vice mirror bullshit behind you? That by the way, hasn't fooled anyone since the early eighties." He nods behind me in case it was lost on me what mirror he was talking about. "Which of course is completely against the constitutional right to private counsel by the way? Emphasis on private, you fucking defective dickheads. Or was that something else they didn't bother teaching you in defective school?"

"Who even now as we speak, are scrambling around trying to come up with a brand new plan to break you. Now that I told you about all the easy ways to mess with your head." Ray snorts. "So go ahead assholes, take your best shot and let's see what you got!"

"So stay strong, stay smart, and stay free." He taps the side of his head. "I'll see ya when I see ya kid ...hopefully sooner than later?"

"I am Attica!" Ray rumbles and yanks open the heavy steel door.

Although, I am pretty sure Ray meant "I am outta here", but then again what do I know? Maybe Attica is some kind of lawyer code for "screw you" to the swine who run this place? So with that last koan dropped Ray is long gone, but not forgotten. 

Truth be told, my so-called second "Uncle Ray" is not the nicest, kindest, or politest person I know by any means. Raymond Stang attorney at law is actually the second most foul-mouthed man I have ever met, after my father. But when you find yourself in a tank full of barracudas with badges, who want to eat you alive for lunch? Having your own great white killer whale shark to ride out of there like Free Willy was a very reassuring feeling.

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