Judy Canzanetti was a frightened girl. First, there had been that crazy
thing in the schoolyard, and then being dragged in by the police, and
then being chewed out by Mom, and now here she was being dragged in by
the police again, for absolutely nothing at all.
They were all there, in the big empty room like a gymnasium in the
police station, the guys and debs from both gangs, all milling around
and confused. And the cops were taking all the kids out one at a time
and questioning them.
When the cop pointed at her and said, "Okay. You next," Judy almost
broke into tears.
This wasn't like anything she knew or anything she could have expected.
This wasn't like after the rumble, with the guys wisecracking the cops,
and nothing to worry about but a chewing-out from Mom. This was scary.
They were taking people out one at a time to question them. And nobody
was coming back into the room, and who knew what happened to you when
it was your turn?
"Come on," said the cop. "Step along."
She stepped along, numb and miserable.
There were four men in the room to which she was led. They were sitting
behind a long table, with notebooks and pencils and ashtrays on the
table. In front of them was a straight-backed armless chair. The cop
sat her down in the chair, and left the room.