Chapter 21
Theo was working that night, but not behind the bar at Cy’s Place. It was his undercover gig for Jack Swyteck, PA.
Even though the invitation to join “the revolution” had come directly from C. J. Vandermeer, Theo was expected to attend training
was one of about two dozen trainees in the room, all dressed as they would for an actual confrontation with riot police in
the streets—black hoodies, black sweatpants, and black running shoes. Headwear varied, but CJ and several others wore the
black-and-white checkered keffiyeh, though it was hard to discern any genuine connection between this group and support for
Palestine. The session started with CJ leading them in a twenty-minute exercise in shadowboxing. Then he called Theo into
the center combat ring.
“Let’s see what you got, big man,” said CJ.
Watching CJ dance around him like a bug on a lightbulb reminded Theo of the countless gym rats in muscle T-shirts who’d confronted
him in bars, liquored-up losers determined to prove their manhood by picking a fight with the biggest dude in the bar. It
never ended well for them.
“You don’t want to do this,” said Theo.
He tossed Theo a fiberglass nightstick. “Come at me like a riot cop who wants to break my skull.”
“That’s a really bad idea,” said Theo.
“Yeah, how would you know? You look too stupid to tell bad from good.”
“Watch it, CJ.”
“Come at me, fuckhead. Crush my skull, if you think you’re so tough.”
Theo felt his anger rising. Nobody talked to him that way, especially in front of other people. CJ kept it up.
“I checked out your jazz club—Cy’s Place. Named after your great-uncle Cy. Your website says he raised you after your mother
died. How pathetic. No one to take care of poor little Theo except a washed-up saxophone player who didn’t have the brains
or the talent to get out of Miami’s Overtown before all the jazz clubs turned into crack houses.”
If CJ was trying to piss him off, it was working. “You’re pushing this too far,” said Theo.
“Clearly, your momma didn’t want you. What was your old lady, Theo? A drug addict? Street whore?”
“Last warning,” said Theo.
“Just as I thought. A druggie and a cheap whore.”
It didn’t matter that CJ was exactly right. Theo charged across the ring, straight at him. CJ adopted a martial arts defensive
pose, but Theo had no intention of squaring up to fight him under the rules of martial arts or any other rules. If it was
CJ’s intention to teach his trainees how to survive a street fight, he’d picked Theo at his peril.
Theo was like a charging rhinoceros, and CJ’s only answer was a maneuver that Theo had seen before at Bayfront Park, some
kind of arm-drag tactic—“Out and away”—that CJ had taught his trainees to “de-arrest” themselves. Theo slammed into CJ at full speed and with the full weight of
his body. The whole room seemed to shake as Theo landed on top and pinned him to the mat. Before CJ could even react, Theo
was pressing the police baton against CJ’s throat.
“You’re lucky I don’t push this baton all the way to the mat,” said Theo.
“I yield,” said CJ, choking.
Theo pulled the baton away from his neck and stood over him. CJ climbed to his feet, took a minute to catch his breath, and then spoke to the class.
“The original point of this exercise was to demonstrate that, no matter how big or how angry your attacker is, the de-arrest
maneuver is your best defense. As it turns out, the lesson to be learned is that, sometimes, your best defense is to turn
and run.”
He smiled at Theo, then patted him on the shoulder. “Well done, my friend. Glad you’re on our team. Let’s take a break, everyone.
Be back here in five.”
The trainees headed for the exit, and so did Theo.
“Not you,” said CJ, and Theo stopped.
“And not you either, Sheila,” he added in a louder voice.
Theo had spotted Elliott’s girlfriend on the other side of the studio during the “demonstration,” but they hadn’t talked to
each other. Sheila joined them, and they walked to the weight-lifting area, where CJ invited them to sit on one of the benches.
When the last of the group filed out the door, CJ spoke.
“I have a question for you, Sheila,” said CJ. “When you visited Elliott in jail, did he talk to you, or did he give you the
silent treatment?”
She seemed put off by the question. “That’s private. I don’t think I should have to answer that, CJ.”
“I’ll take that to mean he talked to you. Now, Theo: I heard about what your friend Jack Swyteck said in court today—that
someone is forcing Elliott into silence.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” said Theo.
“I don’t have time for bullshit,” said CJ. “There’s only one reason you accepted the invitation to join my group. Jack Swyteck
needs to prove that his client had nothing to do with Owen’s death, and he’s got the idea in his head that I’m putting the
squeeze on Elliott to keep his mouth shut and stop him from naming who really did. Swyteck thinks if you hang around here
long enough, you’ll sniff something out.”
Theo appreciated the no-bullshit approach. “Close, but not quite right,” said Theo. “I’m here because Jack wants me to find out why an obscenely rich douchebag who’s never worked a day in his life is running a gun destruction business that doesn’t actually destroy guns.”
“The way we dispose of firearms here is perfectly legal. If there was some deep, dark secret to hide, do you think I would
have allowed Elliott and Sheila to show you and Swyteck around?”
“Maybe yes, maybe no,” said Theo.
“Let me ask a pertinent question: If I was threatening Swyteck’s client into silence, do you think I’d invite you into my training class? Do you think I’d let Elliott’s girlfriend keep working at this company?”
Theo didn’t answer.
“You don’t know squat about me,” said CJ. “Neither does Swyteck. So, you’re free to stay and train with the group. In fact,
I want you to stay. But you’re also free to leave as you wish. Either way, I want you to take three things straight back to your
buddy. One, I don’t believe Elliott killed Owen. Owen killed Owen. Two, I’m not threatening Elliott into silence. And three,
I love what Elliott is doing.”
“Doing?”
“His ‘speech strike,’ as the prosecutor called it in court today. It’s an act of protest, and I applaud him for it. Sheila,
feel free to tell this to Elliott next time you visit him. I applaud him because his silence is making a very important point.”
“The point being what?” asked Theo.
“Our justice system is a massive failure. Individual speech is the only antidote to governmental tyranny. But we have a system
of justice that, for all practical purposes, requires anyone who is accused of a crime—anyone who faces the most coercive power of the state—to be silent.”
“That’s no reason to stop talking to your lawyer.”
“What better way to make the point?”
“Still not seeing the point,” said Theo.
CJ seemed energized, as if stepping onto the proverbial soapbox.
“A justice system built on silence isn’t just a democratic failure.
It’s a human failure. Think of the cognitive and dignitary functions of speech.
Speaking is the best way for someone accused of a crime to engage with the law and express their understanding of it.
It’s the most effective way to express anger or remorse, to convey their acceptance or rejection of the criminal justice process. Our system provides none of that.”
“So, you’re saying that Elliott stopped talking to Jack to show the world that our justice system sucks.”
“He’s fighting silence through silence. That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Then he looked at Sheila. “Am I right, Sheila?”
She didn’t seem comfortable in the least. “I’m not going to speak for Elliott.”
“Why would Elliott risk going to jail for the rest of his life to make a point?” asked Theo.
“Because he was well trained by me,” CJ said.
The five-minute break was over, and the trainees were returning to the studio.
“Jack needs to know this,” said Theo.
CJ chuckled. “Rest assured of one thing, Mr. Knight. I don’t say anything in front of you that I don’t want to get back to
Jack Swyteck.”
“Good to know,” said Theo. He walked with Sheila back toward the exercise mats, where the group was retaking their positions.
“Don’t believe anything he says,” Sheila said in a tight whisper.
“No shit,” said Theo.
CJ addressed the group in a loud voice. “All right, everyone. Some light stretching to get back in the groove. Downward-facing-dog
pose.”
Theo mimicked what the others were doing, hands and feet planted on the mat, his butt in the air to form an inverted V. Sheila
was beside him.
“And as for what Jack asked you to find out—what’s behind the gun destruction business?” she said, still whispering.
“Yeah?”
“You’re not the only one who thinks there’s more to it than Elliott and I showed you.”
Theo smiled to himself. CJ’s insults of Uncle Cy aside, one of the old man’s kernels of wisdom came to mind: When your enemy claims to be an open book, better read between the lines.
“Shocking,” Theo said with a smirk.