"Damn right.  I capped him."

     "Oh, shit, man.  I'm sorry.  I'll come down right away."

     When I arrived at police headquarters, they parked me in the long row of chairs in the waiting area in the main lobby.  It smelled like stale cigars.  I felt really shitty.  I had promised the man a ride, and then I reneged on my word.  And, sure as shit, the guy gets into a jam as a result.  While waiting for Otis, I resolved to drive the man anywhere in northeastern Illinois.  After a half hour or so, the cops escorted him out of an elevator to the main receiving desk.
    "Hey, my man, MacNorton."  Otis sounded jovial.

     "Otis, I'm sorry about this, man."

      "Hey, its OK, man.  The bank done gave me the day off with pay.  Shit, I'm making out on this deal.  Only thing, the police gonna keep my gun."  Sure enough, the cops frowned significantly at Otis.  It looked to me like "don't push your luck" frown.  They obviously didn't like Otis any more than I did.

      The cops shoved a "discharge" form in front of Otis to sign.  Looking over his shoulder, I read through the police report of the shooting incident.  It said Otis had killed, in self-defense, "one Andre Boyd, a human being."
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