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“I don’t know the street names.”
“Could you take us there?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? So you’re not sure?”
“No. I’m not sure.”
“Do you have a car?”
“No.”
“How did you get to Compton then? Did your mommy drive you?”
The prosecution objected to that and the judge sustained it. The defense attorney apologized to the court.
“Andy, how did you get to Compton?”
“I borrowed my mother’s car.”
“Will she confirm that?”
“She didn’t know. I waited until she was asleep.”
“You waited until your mother was asleep, took her car, drove to Compton, found a black guy in a park, and paid him forty dollars for a stolen gun? And then you gave it to the defendant?”
“Yes. That’s what happened.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why? He asked me to.”
“Why did you do it?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“You said you’re not friends with Larry Wilkes. So why did you take your mother’s car, drive to Compton, and buy a stolen gun for him?”
“I wanted to be friends.”
“You do know this isn’t how you make friends.”
The prosecutor complained about that not being a question. The judge agreed.
“Why did Larry come to you?”
“I don’t know what you’re asking me?”
“Did you have a reputation for getting kids illegal guns?”
“No.”
“Then why you?”
“I don’t know. He just asked.”
I skipped ahead, hoping to find the part where the defense attorney asked about when the request was made. I wanted to know what the kid said when confronted with the fact that Larry wasn’t even in town when this was supposed to have happened. That what he was testifying to wasn’t even possible. But the question was never asked.
