Driving along Route 66, we... «The Pale-Faced Lie»
cat_on_the_shelf22 января 2022Driving along Route 66, we passed the usual parade of young and old Navajos walking by the side of the road. Just outside Gallup, Dad slowed down and thumped me hard on the shoulder. “See that old man over there?”
“Yeah.” The poor guy was stooped over, and his clothes hung on him like rags. He shuffled along by himself carrying a crumpled grocery bag.
“If we killed that old man, where would we bury him? Where’s the nearest—”
“Whoa!” I bolted up in my seat. “Why would we kill him? Why are you asking me that?”
“We’re not going to kill him. That’s not the point, goddamn it. Listen up. I’m teaching you something here. Do you see a place where we could dump the body so no one would find it? Where’s the nearest police station? How many routes are there away from here? How many vehicles passed us in the last ten minutes in either direction? What color were they? How many people were in them? What were the license plates? State and number. What do you remember?”
Another one of his games. Okay, I’d play along. “Three cars and a truck have passed us. Two cars were blue and the third was green. The pickup was red, and three Navajos were in the back. But, Dad, it’s not so much about how close we are to a police station. What really matters is how close we are to a car, or even a pedestrian, who might tip off the police.”
He whipped his head around and stared at me, a smiling spreading across his face. “You’re right, David. You’re finally paying attention.” He sped up and passed the old man. “If you don’t know all these things, you can get caught. Murder is the easiest crime to get away with because you have no witnesses. Robbery, kidnapping, any of the other crimes—there are witnesses or people you need to depend on. The perfect murder will never be solved.”
He muttered to himself and then said, “Most of the cons in San Quentin had committed several murders they didn’t get caught for. They got picked up for botching a robbery, passing bad checks, stealing a car in broad daylight. You have to be smart about the world if you’re going to survive in it.”
I didn’t respond. I was done playing his game.
“You’ve got to be observant and wary,” he said. “Rules are for losers. If you don’t believe it, look at the rules the Indians live by on this reservation while being forced to take rations from the white bastards who conquered them.”
I couldn’t imagine that other dads took their ten-year-old sons to steal tools from their employer or explained how murder was the easiest crime to get away with or insisted that rules were for losers. I closed my eyes to stop him from talking to me, pretending to go to sleep.
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