Fog Monologue

I think I might need to go back home to Cloudstreet, just to see how Fish is going, just to be able to talk to him again… after all this time, I wonder if he even wants to see me.

The piercing weee-ooo-weee-ooo of the approaching ambulance could be heard in the distance, the sound growing steadily louder, and overcome with emotion, Booker slid to the floor with a sob. For the briefest of moments, he had thought everything would be okay, but the reality was, he had failed his friend yet again. If he’d fought through the dizziness and remained conscious, he could have calmly convinced Tom to go to the hospital instead of trying to trick him. He’d underestimated Tom’s gullibility, and he had paid the ultimate price. The DNA evidence was gone, and there was nothing left to link the seven men to the rape except his and Horshack’s witness account and the video. But the video was of no use because he knew Tom well enough to know even if he tracked down the Keymaster, the young officer would never give permission to use the tape in court. Once again he felt the weight of his guilt pushing down on him and his misery intensified. He was a failure as a cop and a friend, and because of him, the seven Pi Taus would never be brought to justice.

In this essay Martin Preib, a small town journalist and police officer records his daily life on the job as rookie police officer. On Preib’s second day out of the Chicago Police Academy, sergeant handed him a large, heavy plastic bag and informed him that this would be a good experience. He was also provided with an enclosed truck that was slightly bigger than a van with “Police” on on its sides and rear. The wagon was used to not only transport newly arrested suspects for questioning or lockup but to carry dead bodies to the morgue. During the progression of the essay, Preib describes transporting patients in body bags, how he has an unlikely connection with his female partner, trains a younger officer and finds himself with people that are rendered invisible or forgotten by society. Preib depicts the complication of race and class in the heavily populated urban area.

When the cops arrive, kids go gushing out of the doors. Melinda’s friends quickly turned into enemies and even people she did not know hated her for calling the cops

Summary David Simon elaborates to explain what happens in an interrogation room to readers in a passage from “Homicide: A Year on the Killing Streets,” which caused a couple of television shows. Simon gives points of view from the perspective of the interrogator, which can be a detective or a police officer, as well as point of views from the suspect being interrogated. In his book, Simon bases everything he knows from the police station in Baltimore.

In The Red Parts: An Autobiography of a Trial, Maggie Nelson, the author tells the story about her aunt who was murdered in 1969 and how her family suffers through the reopening of the case. Maggie’s aunt, Jane Mixer, was found dead, shot in the back of the head twice, strangled, and then was left unceremoniously, abandoned in a cemetery. Because of the way Jane’s murder was presented, she was thought to be part of a killing spree. During the initial investigation, the police arrested a suspect in 1970 and he was sentenced to life in prison. In 2005 however, Maggie’s family got a call from a detective explaining that he might have a new lead in Jane’s murder and that the man that they originally arrested for it, was innocent after all. He had “every reason to believe [that] this case [was] moving swiftly towards a successful conclusion” (Nelson 1).

I just can’t take it any more; my life has gone from being careless to living-hell in the span of a few years. My family has fallen apart, leaving two of the people I loved most dead and one dying horrifically slowly. I just want to rid myself of these pains and get on with my life. But I know that I never will. Not really.

“We all stood there for a minute, saying nothing, shifting uncomfortably. Diane sighed. ‘Well, the police are waiting downstairs.’ Everyone’s eyes shot up to the clock. It was 1:55. My heart skipped one, two, three beats. ‘I guess it’s time to go,’ I whispered” (Harrington 68).

At least it seemed that way at the time. As we climbed down that endless stairway, we left all that unearthly heat and odor behind. It got cooler and darker, and also more silent as they city noses faded away. At the same time, we began to become aware, with an excitement worthy of the explorers whose names I invoked at the start of this journey, that the strange territory we had discovered was inhabited. There were houses down here, streets, a ballfield. From the heights of the stairs it all looked very small and idealized: doll houses, toy streets, a baseball diamond of green cellophane and modeling clay. We could even see some tiny figures we were eventually able to identify as the native children, children not too different, perhaps from

He had phoned a friend in Nassau County for advice, and then he had crossed the roof of the building to the apartment of the elderly woman to get her to make the call. "I didn't want to get involved," he sheepishly told police.” There is an understanding of why because of all the questioning by the police and the light shone on them but they shouldn't think of themselves when another's life is in their hands. Of all the 38 witnesses, none of them stood up, which led to the tragedy of an innocent woman's life. This shows how even with power in a bystander hand they don’t take it because of the caution of their own life.

Marcus isn’t hard to convince. They perform several successful stickups at a parking lot. Eddie holds the gun and threatens their victims, while Marcus is on the lookout. They already have enough money to pay their dues, but neither of them wants to quit. It is such an easy way to earn money, and they are tired of feeling like charity cases. Their next stickup doesn’t go according to the plan. It is Marcus’s turn to hold the gun and take care of the threatening, but he doesn’t want to because of his lack of practice. Marcus and Eddie are at their usual spot in the parking lot, and target a man coming out of a store. They don’t notice that the man is black before Eddie starts to threaten him. Before he knows it, he has shot him and the boys are running for their lives.

Glowing You knocked me sideways When you said that you were leaving. You knocked me over When you cried and told the truth.

I don't have magical powers. Wasn't born into royalty. Or poverty. I don't feel the Earth rotating or the seals clapping or the sun blazing any more than any normal kid would. Let me introduce myself.

The murder had been a brutal one, Jackson noted. Judging by the witness accounts and clues left behind by the assailant, it was easy to conclude that the crime had been one fueled by hatred. The room’s broken furniture also hinted at the fact that the meeting had been a violent one, and the smell of blood was present throughout the tiny apartment. The police had simply brushed off the incident as a suicide, that the victim was only targeted by mental illness, not some serial killer on the loose. However, Jackson knew that they were wrong. He was desperate for justice to be served and he would not stop at any cost to make sure that it was achieved. The area that he had lived in was known to be one that was corrupted by the government, a place

Finally, finally, the sirens stop. It’s so sudden, flooding the air with a moment of silence. My ears start to pick up the city noise again, faint and comforting in its normality. I hear footsteps behind my, and I turn to meet them. Two police officers are approaching me carefully, their guns drawn. What’s happening? Why do they look like they’re coming for me? I didn’t do anything. Questions flicker through my mind, none of them staying long enough for me to answer them.