::::::No:::::: but this time the Chief didn’t bother to make any response, not in any fashion. He was acutely aware of how he must have looked to the other Cubans in the room. He had let himself gradually slouch back into the depths of the chair. So he straightened up and slowly thrust his shoulders back in a half-hearted attempt to show these Cuban brownies that he still had a massive chest. It was a pretty halfhearted thrust, however. How much longer could he afford to let the Mayor fuck with him like this before it came down to either losing all claim to manhood—or else getting up, walking the six or seven feet to where the Mayor was sitting, and yanking him up out of his seat by his head of hair with one hand and slapping him across his fucking brown face with the palm of his hand and then the back of his hand the palm and then the back the palm the back the palm the back palm back palm back palm back palmbackpalmback until that brown face turns red as a rare meatball and he’s sobbing because he’s been totally humiliated by a Man—
::::::—oh sure, Superman… Tell me who, in fact, is just sitting here with his speechless mouth hanging open.::::::
“So how do we remove this pair, Camacho and the sergeant, Hernandez, from the public’s eye? I’ve done more of this, canning sinners, no matter what the circumstances, than you have. And I can tell you there’s no gentle way to do it. You have to come right out and say it: ‘These two have revealed themselves as racists, and we can’t have people like that in our Department.’ That’s the way you have to do it. Pow! Pow! It’s painful but it’s quick. One sentence—no, two sentences—and it’s over.” He began slapping palms up and down so that they grazed each other in the well, we’ve cleaned that up, haven’t we, and it’s over and done with manner. Then he compressed his lips and gave the Chief a little wink, as if to say, “Aren’t you glad we got that worked out?”
It was the wink that did it… that little wink… with that wink Dionisio had made too deep an incursion into the Chief’s manhood. Every one of Dionisio’s boys Friday was blank faced and enjoying this humiliation intensely. Old Dionisio is a piece of work, isn’t he? Snicker snacker snicker snacker snicker snacker he’s got the scissors out and he’s cut el blowhard negro up into little insignificant pieces in no time.
That little wink—those smug blank Cuban faces—the Chief felt like he had left his own body through astral projection and was beholding another creature when he snapped out, “We can’t do that, Mayor Cruz.”
It wasn’t an exclamation. It came out with a seething sound. The “Mayor Cruz,” as opposed to Dio or Dionisio, said it was time to get serious.
“Why not?” said the Mayor.
“It would jeopardize the morale of the whole Department.” The Chief knew that was a big exaggeration, but it was out on the table now, and the Chief pressed on. “Every cop who’s ever had to fight one a these crackhead slimeballs and go rolling in the dirt with him or had to pull a gun, every one a them puts himself inside the hide of Camacho and Hernandez the moment he hears about it. Every one a them can feel the adrenaline pumping. Every one a them knows the feeling of fighting for his life, because he don’t know who he’s tangling with, and every one a them knows he’s not himself when it’s over. Every one a them knows the feeling of fear turning into pure hate. There’s nothing in between. If you videotape everything cops say to these scumbags when they finally got ’em restrained and have enough breath to say anything at all, that tape would scorch the hair off every head in Miami. That’s just the nature of the beast, because don’t kid yourself, at that point you’re an animal.”
The room went silent. The Chief’s vehemence and impudence were a shock. After a few beats the Mayor came back to life. “So what these two cops said about African Americans doesn’t bother you… as the highest-ranking African American in this city?”
“Yeah, the words bother me,” said the Chief. “I’ve had to listen to that shit ever since I was four or five years old, and I know what the urge to