Jeff’s Live Nudes

December 27, 9:00am – 11:00am.

I was slammed into a reinforced window with enough force to shatter bones. Pain shot through my cheek. They pinned me to the ground and restrained my arms, the way cops typically do. I saw one of them pretend to pull out an imaginary Miranda card and begin to read from it.
“You have the right to shut the hell up.” he informed me, barely able to contain a smirk at his own joke. I glared at him with contempt and spat in his face. Blood. I saw them reaching for their billy clubs, and blacked out.

Several hours prior to the ass-kicking, I was getting ready to leave the house for court. I just had to deal with a traffic violation — not yielding the right of way. It had happened months ago when I only held a permit. All I had to do was attend traffic school for a couple of days, and my record was clean. Easy, right?

Their greeting upon my entering the courtroom was a quick, silent frisking. Without remark they immediately confiscated my wallet, cell phone, and handkerchief. “File into courtroom B”, they told me, without looking up. I thought I saw someone take out the ten-dollar bill I had in my wallet, and pocket it. I walked briskly into the cold cellar they directed me toward.

There were others like me in the room, huddled, and just as apprehensive. I glanced around. All the races hung together — the latinos in one corner, trying to look like they weren’t just as goddamn scared as everyone else. Plus they had the INS to watch out for. The white kids sat in chairs, calm and collected like their lawyers beside them. I glanced around, looking for the asians. It seemed like I was the only one here. Except…

In my peripheral vision I caught her staring at me. I turned; she looked away quickly. She had long, straight black hair and dark brown eyes that radiated a bold serenity. I approached her with a slight swagger in my step.
“Hey baby, what’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?” I asked, suavely reaching into my pocket for a cigarette before I realized that I didn’t smoke. She smiled shyly, but didn’t answer.
“The mysterious type, eh?” I grinned. I was about to make my move when the bailiff came out.
“Jeff… Chan?” he read. It’s Chen, I muttered under my breath. One fucking syllable and they still couldn’t get it right. The bailiff led me into the courtroom.

When I entered, the judge immediately began speaking.
“Mr. Chen,” she began. “You are hereby convicted of fifteen separate counts of murder in the first degree. How do you plead?” Shock coursed through my veins. “W-what? I’m here for a traffic violation,” I sputtered.
“I heard guilty,” the judge said, and slammed her gavel. Then began the beating.

~~~

When I woke up, I was at least 40 pounds skinnier and had grown a full beard. Soon a cop came and led me out of the cellar.
“How long have I been in there?” I asked, my voice hoarse from underuse.
“Fifteen minutes.” he replied. “There was a misunderstanding. The guy we wanted was a Jeff Chan. You’re free to go, with the court’s apologies.”
“And my traffic violation?” I asked.
“Just attend traffic school. It’s easy.” he said.
I left the courtroom feeling tired and eager to get back to bed.