The Other Side of the Window
Sanders ripped the finished warrant from the type writer and made his way back to the window. He signed the warrant and separated the triplicate forms into their necessary segments: one for the officer to execute, one for the perp and one for the court file.
He was just finishing the personal information on the blue release form when Stewart brought the man to the other side of the window.
Sanders looked up.
This guy was soft and domestic, you could tell by his plump face and drooping eyes that he was no more streetwise than Theo Hucskstable.
“Mr. Gilmer,” Sanders said, “You are being charged with armed robbery …”
At those words the man collapsed his upper body on the counter across from Sanders, raising his cuffed hands to his round face in sorrow.
“Naw, sir, please, please, oh lord,” the man cried. “I’m sorry, sir, please, I never done nothing like this … oh lord, please …”
Stewart jerked at the man’s upper arm.
“Stand up there and listen to the judge,” he said as he pointed to Sanders through the window.
The man raised his face to Sanders as tears filled the corners of both eyes. As Sanders continued, those tears fell in great drops along his cheeks.
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