“You know what happened, then,” Van Den Berg said. “My problem is, I need about ten grand, up front, for the lawyer, and probably another ten later on. I was hoping you could help out, since I’m keeping my mouth shut about you being the Wheatfield shooter.”

“What!”

“Yeah, I figured it out,” Van Den Berg said. “I’m willing to keep my mouth shut. I’m taking a risk, because this might make me an accessory, but I gotta have that cash.”

“I got no idea what you’re talking about,” the shooter blustered. “I don’t know why you’d think . . .”

“Then let me explain,” Van Den Berg said. He did, and when he was finished, the shooter said, “That’s not right. You’re making a horrible mistake. Did you tell anybody else about this? I’m completely innocent, and I don’t need other people looking at me like . . . like . . . I’m some sort of maniac.”

“If you didn’t do it, why are you arguing instead of leaving?” Van Den Berg asked.

“I am leaving,” the shooter said. He turned and headed for the door, still holding the remnants of the ice-cream cone.

“You better think about it,” Van Den Berg called after him. “Because I know you’re the one.”

“You ever say anything like that to another person, I will sue you for every dime you’ve got,” the shooter shouted back. “I can’t even believe . . .”

“I’ll give you until tomorrow morning, and then I’m going to Flowers. I need ten thousand now, and another ten . . .”

“You’re insane!”

And the shooter walked away.

—

Van Den Berg had gotten little sleep the night before, in the Lewis County jail, so he made himself a peanut butter and onion sandwich, ate it, lowered the shades in the bedroom, and lay down on the bed. He thought about calling the dispatcher at the packing plant to see if he could get a load out of town in the next couple of days, thought briefly about whether he’d put the finger on the wrong man as the shooter . . . and then he passed out.

He woke at 6 o’clock, hungry again, made himself a fried egg sandwich with a side of link sausages, thought about what to do; there were a couple of hours of daylight left, but he couldn’t think where he might want to go. He eventually went down into his man cave, got online, and went to Pornhub and spent three straight hours, with two five-minute recreational breaks, watching a variety of videos.

—