Title: Cuffed
Author: Edzel2
Genre: Exile
Wordcount: 891
Summary: Does what it says on the tin. Or rather, the photo which turned out not to be Tom in handcuffs after all, but John’s photo shoot for a Guardian interview; but I liked the premise so much I decided, what the heck, lets run with it...
Cuffed
The man sitting cuffed in the chair flinches as the door bangs shut behind DS Jarvis. She places the polystyrene cup on the table in front of him. He looks wearily at his cuffed wrists and then at the cup, his meaning plain.
‘Sorry Mister...’ She examines the charge sheet she’d had tucked under her arm and has nw placed on the table in front of her. ‘...Ronstadt; no can do. I’m sure you’ll manage if you’re thirsty enough.’
‘Look, this is all a misunderstanding...’
‘Oh, is that what it is? How can you misunderstand bashing a kid’s head against a brick wall so hard that he blacks out?’
‘He isn’t a kid... he must be twenty at least... and it was self defence.’
‘How d’you work that one out?’
Tom sighs.
‘I recognised him... from before. He...’ Tom falters. Shit. However he phrases it, he’s in the shit, isn’t he? If he tells Jarvis that he was looking to buy some coke then he’ll get done for that; if he doesn’t he’ll get done for GBH. If the kid doesn’t die, that is...
‘Mister Rondstadt... just so you know, we’re well aware that Dougie Smith is a drug pusher. We also know that he’s well known for mugging would-be customers when he’s got nothing to sell. So it’ll all go a lot better for you if you just come clean about how this all happened. We know you; we know your family and your circumstances. No-one is really interested in going for an occasional recreational user like you – it’s Dougie and his supplier we’re after. If what you tell me now bears fruit then I don’t think you need worry about a conviction... how about it?’
Tom manages to lift the coffee cup, raise it to his lips and gulp at the rapidly cooling liquid. Relief makes him feel like crying, ridiculously, but he hides the moment by gulping more coffee, pretending absorption in the task as he thinks.
‘Okay, okay...’ he says shakily. ‘I didn’t know his name, didn’t even know until I got up close that I’d seen him before. The first time was a few weeks ago... I’d not long been back home and I was... I needed something, okay? I’d been cutting down since coming back up here but I’d had a shitty day with my Dad... he’s got...’ he starts to explain, remembers that they apparently know all that already. ‘Well anyway, I saw him on the way back from the pub, realised he was selling and gave him a twenty – he grabbed it, belted me in the gut and legged it. That was the first time,’ he repeats, to make sure Jarvis gets her facts straight.
‘You say you had no idea it was the same man when he approached you earlier this evening?’
‘No, no... I wasn’t even thinking about... about taking anything. I’d just had a drink... or two,’ he admits, ‘and I was going home. Next thing I know he’s walking beside me and he’s talking, ‘just give me your cash,’ he says, ‘or I’ll cut you.’ And when I looked down at him I realised I knew him from somewhere and then I remembered... and I just knocked his hand away, he dropped the knife and I pushed him against the wall.’
‘And that was when he collapsed?’
‘Yeah, yeah.... I must’ve pushed him a bit harder than I meant to. I mean... I’m not about to kill someone for twenty quid, am I?’
‘Not even because he’d tried the same stunt twice?’
‘Well... I was pretty annoyed, yeah – but I wasn’t thinking. I just knew he had a knife and I knew he’d done it before and I just... well I just lashed out to save myself, I suppose. That’s all.’
DS Jarvis scribbles furiously on her notepad for a minute or two while Tom waits, his stomach churning. Finally she looks up, twists the pad around so that he can read it and holds out the pen.
‘Okay sir... if you wouldn’t mind reading and then signing it, we won’t take up any more of your time.’
‘You mean...?’
‘Yes,’ DS Jarvis smiles for the first time since Tom met her. ‘You’re free to go once you’ve signed the statement. If we need you again we know where to find you.’
Tom quickly scans the statement, signs it - awkwardly because of the cuffs- and pushes it back across the table. ‘Could you...?’ he holds up his hands.
‘The custody sergeant will see to those when I take you up to the desk,’ she tells him. ‘Follow me.’
‘I don’t suppose you’re coming off duty anytime soon...?’ he asks, as Jarvis countersigns the statement, dates and times it.
‘Don’t push your luck, Tom,’ she smiles. ‘I might have been a pushover in the playground but not these days.’
Well, it was worth a try, Tom thinks as follows her from the room, and wonders if there are any other –less violent- pushers in town...
Fin.
NB Copyright Disclaimer: No infringement of any copyrights held by Red Productions or the BBC or any other copyright holder intended - written just for fun.
The man sitting cuffed in the chair flinches as the door bangs shut behind DS Jarvis. She places the polystyrene cup on the table in front of him. He looks wearily at his cuffed wrists and then at the cup, his meaning plain.
‘Sorry Mister...’ She examines the charge sheet she’d had tucked under her arm and has nw placed on the table in front of her. ‘...Ronstadt; no can do. I’m sure you’ll manage if you’re thirsty enough.’
‘Look, this is all a misunderstanding...’
‘Oh, is that what it is? How can you misunderstand bashing a kid’s head against a brick wall so hard that he blacks out?’
‘He isn’t a kid... he must be twenty at least... and it was self defence.’
‘How d’you work that one out?’
Tom sighs.
‘I recognised him... from before. He...’ Tom falters. Shit. However he phrases it, he’s in the shit, isn’t he? If he tells Jarvis that he was looking to buy some coke then he’ll get done for that; if he doesn’t he’ll get done for GBH. If the kid doesn’t die, that is...
‘Mister Rondstadt... just so you know, we’re well aware that Dougie Smith is a drug pusher. We also know that he’s well known for mugging would-be customers when he’s got nothing to sell. So it’ll all go a lot better for you if you just come clean about how this all happened. We know you; we know your family and your circumstances. No-one is really interested in going for an occasional recreational user like you – it’s Dougie and his supplier we’re after. If what you tell me now bears fruit then I don’t think you need worry about a conviction... how about it?’
Tom manages to lift the coffee cup, raise it to his lips and gulp at the rapidly cooling liquid. Relief makes him feel like crying, ridiculously, but he hides the moment by gulping more coffee, pretending absorption in the task as he thinks.
‘Okay, okay...’ he says shakily. ‘I didn’t know his name, didn’t even know until I got up close that I’d seen him before. The first time was a few weeks ago... I’d not long been back home and I was... I needed something, okay? I’d been cutting down since coming back up here but I’d had a shitty day with my Dad... he’s got...’ he starts to explain, remembers that they apparently know all that already. ‘Well anyway, I saw him on the way back from the pub, realised he was selling and gave him a twenty – he grabbed it, belted me in the gut and legged it. That was the first time,’ he repeats, to make sure Jarvis gets her facts straight.
‘You say you had no idea it was the same man when he approached you earlier this evening?’
‘No, no... I wasn’t even thinking about... about taking anything. I’d just had a drink... or two,’ he admits, ‘and I was going home. Next thing I know he’s walking beside me and he’s talking, ‘just give me your cash,’ he says, ‘or I’ll cut you.’ And when I looked down at him I realised I knew him from somewhere and then I remembered... and I just knocked his hand away, he dropped the knife and I pushed him against the wall.’
‘And that was when he collapsed?’
‘Yeah, yeah.... I must’ve pushed him a bit harder than I meant to. I mean... I’m not about to kill someone for twenty quid, am I?’
‘Not even because he’d tried the same stunt twice?’
‘Well... I was pretty annoyed, yeah – but I wasn’t thinking. I just knew he had a knife and I knew he’d done it before and I just... well I just lashed out to save myself, I suppose. That’s all.’
DS Jarvis scribbles furiously on her notepad for a minute or two while Tom waits, his stomach churning. Finally she looks up, twists the pad around so that he can read it and holds out the pen.
‘Okay sir... if you wouldn’t mind reading and then signing it, we won’t take up any more of your time.’
‘You mean...?’
‘Yes,’ DS Jarvis smiles for the first time since Tom met her. ‘You’re free to go once you’ve signed the statement. If we need you again we know where to find you.’
Tom quickly scans the statement, signs it - awkwardly because of the cuffs- and pushes it back across the table. ‘Could you...?’ he holds up his hands.
‘The custody sergeant will see to those when I take you up to the desk,’ she tells him. ‘Follow me.’
‘I don’t suppose you’re coming off duty anytime soon...?’ he asks, as Jarvis countersigns the statement, dates and times it.
‘Don’t push your luck, Tom,’ she smiles. ‘I might have been a pushover in the playground but not these days.’
Well, it was worth a try, Tom thinks as follows her from the room, and wonders if there are any other –less violent- pushers in town...
Fin.
NB Copyright Disclaimer: No infringement of any copyrights held by Red Productions or the BBC or any other copyright holder intended - written just for fun.
