I just stared at the room ceiling because I didn't want to think about all the problems and issues in my life. Everything wasn't going well at all- the kids, Anna, my money problems- and what happened a couple days ago made things worse. I clutched to the arms of my wheelchair as a NYPD detective came into the room.
The detective wasted no time in talking to me. He didn't even introduce himself, just looked at me.
Detective Anderson- I would find his name later- said "Michael Gonzalez. You've been in and out of trouble since you were only a toddler. You've done every crime except for drugs, alcohol, guns, rape and murder. Apparently, two months at a rough group home didn't teach you anything either. Now, you've gone and done a very bad thing by ruining one of the most important investigations that NYPD has ever run."
Detective Anderson asked "So what do you have to say for yourself, kid?"
I clutched the wheelchair arms harder as my eyes narrowed. What do I have to say for myself? I knew exactly what I had to say for myself. It wasn't hard.
I answered angrily "What do I have to say for myself? I was walking down the street to my house when I'm attacked and shot by two psychos. I'm currently in a wheelchair and being arrested for no reason while the idiots that put me in a wheelchair are now free and being rewarded with harming an innocent civilian."
Detective Anderson scoffed and replied "I hate to say this to you, Gonzalez but you're not an innocent civilian. You had just left a store that was the scene of a robbery shortly before you left. The two men who apprehended you got a call on their radios about it."
I replied in an annoyed tone "Even if they did get a call about a robbery, I didn't do it! You said that the robbery was committed around 8:30. By that time, I was already out of the store and on my way home. I might be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life all because two young, overzealous beat cops couldn't keep track of time. As if things aren't bad enough for me right now."
Detective Anderson glared at me and said "Those so-called overzealous, young beat cops were just doing their job. One was a highly respected detective with the 70th Precinct. The other was a young officer who has now promoted to a detective."
I interrupted him when I replied loudly "Yeah, that's nice to know. The guy that shot me got a promotion while I'm currently handcuffed to a table. And the NYPD's wondering why they're getting sued."
Detective Anderson replied, annoyed "Here's a little piece of advice, kid. Life isn't fair."
I narrowed my eyes. I couldn't believe what I just heard at that moment. Of course, life wasn't fair. But there's a difference between something being fair and something being cruel and unfair.
I loudly said, anger seeping through my voice " Life isn't fair? Detective, I'll tell you what isn't fair. I'm only a teenager, a hard-working boy who is no longer able to see his family, lost his job and might be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. But that's alright to you. It's also great that the two scumbags that shot me were not only let off but promoted for shooting a 15-year-old boy who was walking home from the store. For all due respect, Detective, you have no right to tell me what is fair."
Anderson stopped and stared at me, his jaw gaping. It was like he had just realized what I said when I had telling him that for the longest while. Then the look of shock and surprise was gone and then replaced with a look of anger and annoyance. He put down the tape recorder, got up and walked out of the room.
He didn't come back in that day and some other detective- Barnes- came in and took over. At least this detective was fair. Anderson was trying to blame me from the start, even when it was clear that I was the victim in this. I wasn't charged because they couldn't hold me on anything so I had to be sent to a residential center since I couldn't see my family.