If Cam were here, we’d do the thing where Cam would raise his hand for “passionate” and I would raise my hand for “intelligent,” because that’s just how we tended to look at almost everything. We split the world in half, divvying every attribute between us.
But today I don’t want to be Cam’s other half. Today I’m with a whole team of people that doesn’t include him. I get to be both passionateandintelligent this time.
“We’re still looking for that clue,” I tell Mr.Wong. I pull out my phone and open a screenshot of the flyer. Gabriel and the others gather around as Mr.Wong looks it over. “We found this in the background of an old photo,” I say. “I think this might be what my—what Cam and I were looking for when we met you.”
Mr.Wong leans in until he’s only an inch or two away from my screen. He squints at the text. “Oh my,” he says softly. “This is about Harvey.”
“For his birthday, right?” I ask.
Mr.Wong hands the phone back to me. “It was for the first birthday after his death, actually.”
Julia gasps. “He died?”
Gabriel looks over his shoulder at her. “He was born in 1930, Julia. Get a grip.”
“He was only forty-eight when he died,” Mr.Wong says. “Harvey was assassinated while in office as city supervisor.”
“Everyone knows that,” Sunny says, squinting hard at Julia and Gabriel.
“Not everyone.” Mr.Wong gives a pained sort of smile. He points at my phone. “And a lot of people don’t know about the party.”
“Why not?” I ask.
Mr.Wong lets out a long, heavy sigh. “This is not a conversation for a parking lot,” he says finally. He points toward Castro Street. “Walk with me.”
We turn out of the alleyway and head south on Castro.
Mr.Wong gestures at the buildings around us. “Look around,” he says. “Look at all the streetlights and walls and windows.”
We do.
“Harvey’s party never happened,” Mr.Wong tells us as we walk. “At least, not in the way we had wanted. When you have the time, take another close look at that old photo you found—the one with Harvey’s flyer. Right away, you’ll know when that photo was taken.”
“How will we know?” I ask. “And why didn’t the party endup happening? Why were people throwing a birthday party for Harvey after he died in the first place?”
Mr.Wong presses his mouth tight. He draws himself up with a breath, then turns to us.
“Do you know who killed Harvey?” he asks.
Julia and Gabriel glance uneasily at each other. Even Sunny doesn’t answer. But I remember my research with Cam from two summers ago. “Wasn’t it another member on the board of supervisors?”
“Dan White,” Mr.Wong says. His teeth grate on the name. “The killer’s name was Dan White. He jumped through a window into city hall to avoid security. He walked into Mayor Moscone’s office and shot him point-blank. Then he turned for Harvey’s office and did the same to him. That was in November of 1978. On May first, 1979, the case went to trial. There were a lot of people in the neighborhood who didn’t know how to keep going—”
Mr.Wong chokes up for a moment.
“We were trying to wrap our heads around the grief. We didn’t want Harvey’s death to shake us from his mission. So the Gay Democratic Club planned a huge celebration to remember Harvey on his birthday: May twenty-second. We thought the trial would be over by then. We thought the verdict would come out, and the party would help us all move on. But then White’s lawyer came up with some ridiculous argument about junk food…”
“The Twinkie defense,” I say. For a moment I have that game-show rush of adrenaline from knowing the right answer.But then I look over at Mr.Wong and realize—this isn’t some fun fact or trivia. This is something real.
Mr.Wong shrugs. “That’s what the media called it. I don’t know what medical-sounding term they used in court. But the defense meant a long line of bogus experts, and the trial kept getting pushed out and out. Tension in the city was building. People were starting to worry about the timing of everything. The jury had been deliberating for days, and we didn’t want the verdict to come out on Harvey’s birthday.”
“Did it?” Sunny asks.
Mr.Wong shakes his head. “It came out the day before. They found White not guilty of murder.”
Gabriel’s mouth falls open. “What? But the evidence—”
“Manslaughter,” Mr.Wong says, nearly whispering. He clears his throat. “They found him guilty of manslaughter, which means the unlawful killing of a person without premediated thought.”
