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Gaetano turned to Dante. “Dante, would you make an appeal yourself? Men who have been imprisoned hate the law and the authorities. Sometimes they have information, but they keep their mouths shut.”
Dante recoiled. “But why would they tell me and not you? They love you.”
“Because you’re the victim.” Gaetano faced him forward. “Ask them. Speak from the heart. Tell them you want to know the partner’s name.”
Dante faced the inmates. He’d never spoken publicly. They were all looking at him, so were their families. Sweat popped on his forehead.
Gaetano patted his back. “You can do it, son.”
Dante cleared his throat. “I’m Dante and I lived in a madhouse, even though I’m not mad. Ifeltmad, and angry all the time, driven by how horrible it was inside, locked in a cell day after day. Maybe you feel that way, too. We all have lived behind bars. We know how it feels, like our lives are passing us by and there’s nothing we can do.”
The inmates erupted. “Yes, that’s true!” “I miss my family so much!” “My mother died when I was in prison!”
“My mother did, too!” Dante blurted out. “Andmy father! I missed growing up with them because One-Eye and his partner put me in the madhouse.” He noticed the mothers at the wall shedding a tear. “Gaetano tells me one of you might know the name of One-Eye’s partner, but you don’t want to tell the law. But I’m not the law, and you can tell me. I’m the one who was wronged. I could be you or your son. I’m no friend to the law, because it didn’t save me, either. Gaetano did. He stood up for me, and now I want to stand up for myself.”
Gaetano smiled, easing Dante’s heart, so he continued his appeal.
“Please, if you know the name of One-Eye’s partner, I’m asking you to tell me. If you’re as good as Gaetano says, then you’ll want to do agood thing. If you think you can help me, please speak now. I’ll be grateful to you forever.”
Dante fell silent, and so did everyone else. The families were hushed, and some of the women began to tear up. One of the inmates cried, too. Still, no one said anything.
An inmate broke the silence. “If you know the name, tell him!”
Suddenly everyone started shouting, inmates and families alike. “Tell him! Tell him! Tell him!” They clapped to each word like a drumbeat. “Tell him, tell him!”
“I think I know who it is!” an inmate hollered over the din.
Dante and Gaetano stood onthe box to reach the window, and an old inmate pressed his grizzled face to the rough iron lattice, his knobby fingers gripping the bars. His hair was sparse and gray, his nose long and bony. They called him Pox because his skin was pockmarked, but his eyes were a sharp-edged blue.
Gaetano asked, “What do you know, Pox?”
“I was in the cell next to One-Eye’s. I saw a man visit him, named Scales. His real name is Enrico Tonelli. I know him from around the harbor.”
“How long ago was this?”
“I’m not sure.”
“How often did Tonelli visit One-Eye?”
“I’m not sure. I saw him twice.”
“Were the visits you saw close together or spread apart?”
Pox scratched his head. “Spread apart, maybe.”
“Tell me more about Tonelli. How old was he?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he look like?”
“Big and ugly, with a hole on the tip of his nose. That, I remember.”
“Anything else you saw or heard between One-Eye and Tonelli?”
Pox mulled it over. “Tonelli worked at the harbor, but I remember I heard him say he was going to the mines.”
“What mines?”
