“If what you say happened, how come he would have told you? How did you even know that he was there, if the cops let him buy his way out?”
“Mr. Ketcham is in some other difficulty with the law—the nature of that being none of your business—and this is his way of trying to strike a deal with us.”
“What kind a deal?”
“That brings us back to what I said a moment ago,” Washington said. “Specifically, that if there is anything lower than a drug dealer, it is a police officer involved in drug trafficking.”
“So you want the dirty cop?”
Washington nodded.
“Corrupt police officer. Officers, plural. That, unfortunately, may work to your advantage.”
“Keep talking.”
“It’s a question of priority. It has been decided that our priority is to see that corrupt police officers are removed from the Philadelphia Police Department and brought to trial. To that end, the district attorney has informed Mr. Ketcham that, in exchange for his cooperation—in other words, giving us a sworn statement and later testifying in court against the corrupt police officers in question—the charges against him, conspiring to traffic in controlled substances, will be dropped.”
“And that’s the deal you’re offering me?”
Washington did not reply.
“If you have Ketcham, why do you need me?” Brownlee thought aloud.
“Because we wish to make sure the corrupt police officers are convicted,” Washington said.
“And maybe you’re a little afraid that a jury would believe the cops instead of this guy they ripped off?”
“You are very perceptive.”
“He’s a fucking drug dealer, right, and maybe out to get the cops? That’s what the jury would think, right?”
“We have to consider that possibility.”
“And so two witnesses would be better than one, right?”
“As three witnesses would be better than two.”
“And I get to walk. That’s the deal?”
“That would depend on what you have to tell me.”
“No fucking problem, brother. You tell me what to say, and I’ll say it.”
“I am not your brother, Mr. Brownlee. Nor am I your friend. I am a police officer, an honest police officer, investigating allegations of corruption. What I want from you is the truth. Nothing but the truth.”
“I think I better talk to a lawyer,” Brownlee said. “Let him make the deal.”
“Mr. Brownlee, I’m going to say this just once, so pay attention. There is no question in my mind that you went to the Howard Johnson motel last Thursday with the criminal intent of trafficking in cocaine. The idea of seeing you escape prosecution deeply offends me.”
“But you’re sort of stuck with me, right? If you want to get these cops, you need me.”
“No. I don’t need you. Judge McCandless remanded to custody eleven individuals such as yourself. We need only two of them to cooperate. You do not have to be one of the two. The only reason I spoke with you now is because you were one of the first to be rearrested.”
“Meaning what?”
“You are in no position to bargain, Mr. Brownlee. You can either cooperate or not cooperate. The choice is yours. What’s it going to be?”
Baby Brownlee considered that for a moment.
“I think I want to talk to my lawyer,” he said.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Brownlee,” Washington said, and walked out of the interview room, closing the door behind him.
There were four Highway patrolmen in the office, and sitting in a row of wooden armchairs along one wall, five prisoners, among them Mr. Amos J. Williams.
Detective Summers came out of the room adjacent to the interview room.
“Didn’t work, huh, Jason?”
“Oh, ye of little faith!” Washington replied.
He motioned to a Highway Patrol sergeant.
“This is the script,” he said softly. “Each detail is important, and please try not to overact. First, you, Sergeant, will go to Mr. Williams and inquire if he is ‘Williams, Amos.’ When he replies in the affirmative, you will unshackle him from his chair, ask him to stand, handcuff him behind his back, and then move him to one of the chairs against the opposite wall, to which you will handcuff him.”
“Okay.”
“Then you will bring . . .” he paused as he looked carefully at each of the remanded prisoners “. . . the beady-eyed specimen second from the right, handcuffed in front, and stand him near the door to the interview room.”
“Okay.”
“I will then announce that I am about to answer nature’s inevitable summons, and exit stage left—in other words, in the direction of Captain Quaire’s office,” Washington went on. “You will then enter the interview room, free Mr. Brownlee from the chair,