Blood on My Hands

time to time, but he’d never do more than nod. He was a very angry guy. Always at war with someone or something.”
    Chief Jenkins levels his eyes on me and I recognize it as a caring gaze. His eyes are sad, as if he’s seen too many things he wishes he hadn’t seen. He places his left hand on the table. He’s wearing a wedding ring. “So, you’re surely wondering why I’m telling you all this,” he finally says. “I guess … it goes back to when your dad and I were friends. Just that he’d always wanted so badly the things I’d been given without even asking. I guess … I always felt bad for him. It seemed like he caught a lot of unlucky breaks.”
    He pauses again. From some other part of the facility come distant shouts followed by laughter. Not what you’d expect in a detention center. Meanwhile, I’m still waiting, wondering why he’s told me all this and where the story’s going. But I sense I won’t have to wonder for much longer. He places his right arm on the table, leans toward me, and lowers his voice. “I hear you’re refusing to go along with the self-defense argument.”
    He gazes steadily at me, waiting for my reply. I fold my hands in my lap and look straight into his eyes, as if to say if that’s why he’s here, he’s wasting his time, but what comes out of my mouth is “Why would I agree to claim self-defense when I’m innocent?”
    Chief Jenkins looks down at his hat, lying on the table, and turns it slightly with his finger. “Callie, suppose I told you … we think the knife … came from Katherine’s house?” His eyes rise again to meet mine.
    What? I rock back in the chair as if he’s pushed me. It makes no sense. Why would Katherine bring the knife to the kegger? “How could that be?”
    “To be honest, we’re not sure. But let’s forget that for a moment. Would just knowing the knife came from her house make you more comfortable about pleading self-defense?”
    I feel like he’s practically rolling out a red carpet for me. If Katherine brought the knife, it might imply that she wanted to kill me. So then claiming self-defense would make perfect sense. I’d go free. No one could blame me for defending myself. I’d be with Slade again.
    Only it would still mean admitting I killed Katherine.
    “I have to tell you, Callie, I don’t understand why you won’t agree to it,” Chief Jenkins says. “There were no witnesses. If you say it was self-defense, there’s no one who can really argue. It adds the crucial element of doubt. It’s almost impossible to imagine a jury convicting you in that situation. On the other hand, if you insist on your innocence, you know you’re making it much more difficult for the jury. They know someone killed Katherine Remington-Day, and a lot of the evidence points to you. In that situation, I can’t predict what they’ll decide, and neither can anyone else. But the possibility of being convicted of second-degree murder, and serving a long prison term, is much much greater.”
    Yes, I’ve heard this before. So why is he telling me again? Is it a trick? Is he trying to get me to plead self-defense because it will take away the possibility that Dakota will be accused? That could be it, right? But something tells me it isn’t. I may be only seventeen and not old enough to be a great judge of character, but I feel that I am looking into the eyes of a man who is telling the truth.
    “Maybe you’re not responding because your lawyer told you not to talk to anyone and the Miranda warning states that anything you do say may be used against you,” Chief Jenkins continues. “But I want you to understand something, Callie. My duty as an officer of the law is to seek justice. I’ve taken an oath to fulfill that duty to the best of my abilities. But I also have a commitment to the people of this community to do what I believe is best for all involved. It’s not to decide whether you are innocent or guilty. That’s up to a judge and jury. But I’ve known your family for a long time, and personally, I think you’ve faced more than enough hardships. Maybe you could think of it this way—I’ve come here today not as the chief of police but as a friend who doesn’t understand why you’d want to risk another tragedy when there’s such an obvious way around it.”
    I know I’m not supposed to say anything, but I can’t help it. I stare him right in those watery hazel eyes and ask, “Have you ever been accused of