I come out of the house, I see they have jimmied open the trunk of my car. Deputy Scott Dwyer is standing there, right next to the trunk, and when it pops open, his face turns green. “Oh, Christ,” Scott says. “Where the hell is that ambulance?” I know what they have discovered in my trunk. I stop walking abruptly, surprising the officer whose hand is on my elbow, leading me to the police car. He stumbles and releases my arm. I sprint in the direction of my car. No, I won’t be able to get away. But I want to see. It’s Scott who jumps in front of me, just as another officer grabs me roughly by
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