Chapter 22: Wulf in Chains
Wulf was ushered out of the squad car, and into a large building- Cook County Department of Corrections was on the sign outside. With handcuffs on both wrists, he was led into the building, like a dog. The youth was manacled, but hardly subdued- he was awaiting the right time…
Inside, it smelled like an animal hospital. Unwashed bodies, and lots and lots of future convicts. As he was led into the building, Wulf was regaled with the current Chicago bureaucracy- lots of affirmative action cops, mostly black with a lot of females, looking at him with utter contempt. It seemed that white convicts were a complete rarity, and in a strange way, a precious commodity! Everyone there seemed to be dying to have an actual white criminal. And now, their dreams had been answered!
Not only the cops, but the convicts looked at the large, muscular youth as though they were happy for the first times since they had last scored drugs. His reddish mane of hair, his bronzed but still white skin marked him as an outsider. Cops were smiling, knowing his fate and somehow relishing it, (WHY??), and the other future convicts were doing the same. Why?
Because they hated whites, always had, and had been programmed by the liberal media to do so! After all, whites were the reason that they (the blacks) had never been able to achieve what every other immigrant group had been able to gain: a stable home life in the safest, most meritocracy based system in the history of the world.
Asians had achieved it, Indians had achieved it, and were achieving success all around them. Whites, of course, had it- they had been granted it at birth, or so the blacks thought. The game was rigged against them! Kill Whitey!! (And every other racial group that achieved better than them!)
These same future convicts, sitting at desks being read their rights, arguing with the arresting officers, looked up with pleasure to see a white, Caucasian (although they would have had no understanding of that term) youth being led in as a criminal like themselves! This just never happened- it was a dream come true.
And the cops had the same looks on their faces. ‘A white perp at last!’ was visible upon their faces. Finally, they could dispense some revenge. Their liberal programming to believe that white privilege was to blame for all of their woes, all of their substandard achievement, all of their crime and poverty and the sad state of their neighborhoods. They could take it out on this whitey, and no one would say boo!
Wulf was led in cuffs and leg irons to a desk by three officers, all of whom kept their hands on the butts of their pistols as they went. Even chained as he was, as unresisting as he was, he looked dangerous. Anyone could see it; it was as if a tiger was being led in chains- the potential power and mayhem were self evident. Detective Gibbons led the way, and finally sat at a small desk littered with papers and used coffee cups.
Sitting, he indicated to the youth with his eyes that he should sit across from him. Wulf took a seat, his chains jangling.
“Now, you were read your Miranda rights in the squad car,” he began, “and I will allow you to call a lawyer if you have one, or we can assign defense council for you.” He gave a pleased, cat-that-ate-the-canary smile that showed small yellow teeth. “But, off the record boy, your sorry ass life is over, got it? You killed two young innocent black men, and shot a black police officer! I put you in the public holding tank, and the other inmates will take you out before morning. But confess now,” he pushed forward a confession form he had printed out for Wulf to sign, “and I will be lenient, and put you in solitary, protective custody.” The yellow teeth showed again in an unattractive smile.
“I killed those black dogs; they had killed the wife of my friend. I never touched the policeman, except to borrow his horse. The gun belonged to one of those dogs, he doesn’t need it now in hell!” he rumbled.
There sounded a commotion back down the hallway, and Wes Parker came into the room. Gibbons was half standing, glaring at the seated youth, and the three officers had drawn their pistols. Wulf seemed relaxed and unperturbed, but a dangerous light glinted in his blue eyes that he had fixed on Antigone Gibbons. Gibbons held the power at the moment over the shackled youth, but still Wulf seemed to dominate the scene.
“Hold it right there!” said Wes. He looked alarmed, but angry as well. “I want you to get this man a lawyer right now, and I want you to follow procedure in this arrest.”
“He’ll get his lawyer,” said Gibbons, ’but not tonight,’ he thought. “Did you know, he has already confessed to two killings? Two hate crimes?! His ass is mine!” Once again, detective Antigone Gibbons thought of the future publicity about this event, and how he was the arresting officer. He might become chief of police!
This youth, though really bothered him. He was not ashamed of his hateful vigilante justice, and seemed completely unabashed at all the veiled and not-so-hidden threats that had been made to him about his future. Gibbons wanted to see him squirm, this confident young white man rubbed him raw.
“But tonight, tonight he will spend in the company of the general jail population.” He said it softly, almost caressingly. The general, black jail population is what he meant. Wulf would be outnumbered 50 to 1 by the black race, and though it was never admitted, blacks were far more racist towards whites than vice versa.
“You can’t do that!” said Wes, alarmed. He knew very well what that entailed, but neither side could actually voice the reality.
“Oh, I sure can,” said the yellowish detective, beady black eyes squinting up at him. “Your lawyer can see what he finds tomorrow, I know I will enjoy looking in with him! Did you know, due to budget shortfalls, our jailing staff is woefully short handed these days…Now officers,” he said loudly, “lock this prisoner up. And since he is a dangerous murderer, leave his cuffs and leg irons on- I don’t want him injuring the other inmates!” And he laughed outright in Wes Parker’s outraged face as Wulf was led clanking away by the three other officers at gunpoint.