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May 23, 2003
The police came about ten minutes or so after my mother hung up. Between my father’s surprise when the cops knocked and my mother’s appearing triumphantly through the kitchen door, between my father’s screaming and lunging at my mother and my mother sobbing and swearing at my father, between the cops restraining my father with cuffs and the neighbors gawking at the flashing lights, between my father being led out the door and my hysterical pleading for them to let him stay with me on the promise I’d be a better son – well, I didn’t get to finish my roll.