The caller’s voice is mellow and flows at a rhythmic slow pace, bringing to mind someone pulling taffy. It’s as if the person is stoned or putting on an act, and I remember what Marino said about not being able to tell if the caller is male or female. I’m not sure either.

“What’s the address of your emergency?” the dispatcher asks.

“I don’t know precisely but I should think a good way to describe the Square is it’s the area around the T station.”

“Is there an address of a business you can give me?”

“No.” The caller coughs several times.

“What number are you calling from?”

“It’s my cell phone so it’s not going to tell you my location. You won’t be able to confirm anything about me like that …”

At this point the caller becomes abusive and argumentative in his slow, languid way, and I think of him as a him. But I honestly can’t say because the voice is low and husky in a pleasant range somewhere between a baritone and a tenor.

As I listen to him describe what he allegedly witnessed it enters my mind that my so-called shit fest with my “boyfriend” isn’t something that was happening while this witness who’s a liar was on the phone with the dispatcher. What he says seems too rehearsed to be happening in real time, and instantly I’m suspicious he’s reporting his made-up story after the fact.

“Do you know where the female subject is now?” The dispatcher is asking about me in the recording as I stare down at the white tablecloth and listen carefully through the headphones.

“No, but she’s a C-U-Next-Tuesday if I ever saw one, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want her showing up at my damn house if somebody died. Jabbing her damn finger, slapping the fool out of some poor sissy kid who looks like a real loser. I can’t imagine what sort of bedside manner a nasty bitch like that would have …”

“Where are you?” the dispatcher asks as the caller coughs and clears his throat again. “Are you outside?”

“With the birds and the bees. Of course I’m outside! How the hell else could I be reporting something that’s going on outside in the elements right before my very eyes?”

This goes on until she lets him know the police are on their way, and she asks the caller’s name.

“You don’t need my name, lady, what you need is to pay attention to their names. You hear me?”

“I need a name so the police can find you—”

“Don’t try that shit with me. I know what you’re doing. You’re going to cover this up just like you do everything about the damn government, and it’s time for the intolerance and fascism to end …”