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The Prosecutor was close to Go, hands flat against the rail of the witness stand,

"Now, tell me sir," His freshly pressed gray suit, slicked back brown Alec Baldwin type hair style, and 5’9 body type impressed some of the women of the jury, and made the men feel like he was respectable. "since your finger prints were found on the refrigerator handle, and the next door neighbors saw you exit the premises on the day in question, is it your argument that it was not you who tortured this innocent child, in front of his parents, to scare them into paying the money the husband, Mister Collins, owed your boss the mafia connected bookie, Michael Yappa!" He turned with a flurry, playing up the courtroom theatrics he must have learned watching episodes of Law & Order during those times when he was in his office late at night getting head from his thousand dollar hooker whose services he used often enough to have fed Ethiopia. Having his hooker blowing him underneath his desk helped to inspire him to put the scum of the earth away where they belonged.

Go knew this because Go collected from Moses Black. An old school Pimp that ran bitches outta a hair slash tanning slash sauna up on 88th and Amsterdam. But Go could never say that in court. It would have compromised his boss’ business. Go was nothing if not loyal to the man who paid him. The jury stared at Go with unease during his trial. He was Japanese, of American decent with jet black hair and a thin stocky frame. He wasn’t a genius. But he wasn’t stupid. He took pleasure in the beating of people who crossed his boss, or those who didn’t. It never mattered much to him. He enjoyed other’s pain. His face was round, without any visible cheek bones. His thick hands had wide fingertips. He had a habit of stroking his goatee and smiling. Even with the Prosecutor in his face, his demeanor never changed. He still smiled. The Prosecutor turned, pointing his finger in judgment,

“Well, Mister Go, what have you to say?” Go was bored by this point. He’d been sitting for hours, listening to all the proof offered up to the jury, trying to show his guilt. Mister Yappa told him not to worry about the Prosecutor and that he would handle it.

'Just play it cool.' Mister Yappa said to Go with a smile.

 

 

 

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