Nine Marines' Shared Property - Nicole Casey Page 0,53

doing that.”

“Listen,” said Taylor. “Someone needs to tell the cops what happened. Someone needs to explain this.” He motioned to Michael. “We don’t all need to take the fall.”

“What fall?” said Santiago. “He came at me with a knife.”

Taylor nodded and motioned for calm with hand, open palm out. “I know. I know. But if we’re all here, we’re all going in the police report. That will get back to the base, then we’re all going to face trouble. There’s no need for that. I’ll stay here. You guys take the SUV and go around the block.”

“We’re not doing that,” said Tristan.

“We’re definitely not doing that,” seconded Nolan.

“If anyone’s getting in trouble for this,” said Tristan, “we’re all getting in trouble for this. We’re a team; we don’t split up.”

Taylor called the police. While he was on the phone, I pulled Santiago to the side. “We should at least move the car, you know, park it somewhere else besides the front lawn.”

Gwen was doing much better. She, Travis and Axel were talking and even laughing. When she saw Santiago, she asked if he was OK.

“I need to move the car,” he said.

“I’ll go with you,” she said.

Travis went back in the apartment, and Axel and I went with Gwen and Santiago.

I felt much better once we were outside. I didn’t realize just how claustrophobic I’d felt earlier. I let out a long, slow breath.

“Tough day?” said Gwen.

I chuckled. “I’ve had less stressful days.”

She saw the SUV, parked at an angle, half on the lawn half on the sidewalk. “Interesting parking job,” she said to Santiago.

He unlocked the doors then glanced over his shoulder at her. “At the time, parking wasn’t the priority.”

There was a space on the street right in front of the building. Maybe it had been there when we arrived, maybe not. It was kind of funny, though, since all Santiago had to do was pull the SUV off the lawn and back up slightly to park it correctly.

“The police should be on the way,” I said to Gwen.

“I want to wait here,” she said from the back seat.

Santiago retrieved a blanket from the trunk

Twenty minutes later, thereabouts, two patrol cars showed up. Santiago and I went to greet them and brief them. We then led them to Gwen. She gave them her story, briefly. Santiago and two of the four officers stayed with her while I led the other two officers back to Michael’s apartment.

One of the officers took notes, seemingly writing down everything Michael said and our short interjections and corrections. the other officer asked the questions.

After a few minutes of this, I had to interrupt. “Listen,” I said to the officer taking notes. “We’re Marines stationed in San Diego. We shouldn’t be here, you understand.”

The officer looked at me blankly.

“We should be at the base,” I continued. “Is it really necessary to include so many details in your report? I mean—”

“If you’re not here,” said the officer, “who broke his arm?” He pointed to Michael. “Who broke down the door?” He pointed down the corridor to the bedroom.

I nodded.

“The woman could have broken his arm in the struggle,” offered the other officer.

“The Mexican broke my arm!” Michael shouted.

Both officers and all of us looked down at him with disdain then dismissal.

“He could have kicked his door open in a rage,” said the officer pointing down at Michael.

The officer taking note put his hand out, open palm up, and shrugged his shoulders. “However you want to do it.”

“No sense getting these Marines in trouble,” said the other officer.

“No,” said Tristan. “We were here.” He pointed to the officer’s notepad. “Put that in your report. We were here.”

Taylor and Nolan, on either side of Tristan, turned to look at him with furrowed brows.

“If this goes to court,” said Tristan. “We can’t risk a story with obvious holes in it leading to this scum”—he motioned with his head to Michael—“getting away with what he did.”

“He’s right,” I said.

The officer taking notes looked from me to the other members of the squad. “Are you sure? I’ll put whatever you tell me in the report.”

“These punks broke into my home,” Michael shouted, “and they broke my arm and kicked down my door.”

Nolan pointed to the officer’s notepad. “Yeah, we were here all right.” He glanced at Michael then back to the officer. “We’ll face whatever discipline we have to face from our superiors, but we’re not letting this guy get away with what he did.”

It was nearly three thirty in