Franklin has long greasy hair, an unkempt beard, filthy jeans, and a ripped shirt that, once upon a time, was probably white. He could be anywhere from thirty to sixty-five and is fretfully thin. His vacant eyes are a dull gray.

Gabriel seems totally at ease with both the offensive odor and the unwashed appearance of our guest. He extends his hand. For a moment Franklin looks confused, as if he’s never seen the ritual before. Then he grasps Gabriel by the fingers.

“Franklin, I’m Gabriel, a police lieutenant here. Thank you for coming down. This is my partner, Dana Goodwin.”

Franklin nods and smiles. “Okay.”

“I want to talk to you a little bit about what you told the other police officers,” Gabriel continues. “But before we do that, can we get you anything? A sandwich maybe? Or some coffee?”

“A sandwich would be nice. Do you have roast beef?”

“I’m sure we do. Excuse me for a moment so I can have someone get you that sandwich. While we’re waiting, we can talk. Sound good?”

“Okay,” he says again.

Gabriel steps out, leaving me alone with Franklin. I smile, and he smiles back.

“What’s your last name, Franklin?” I ask.

“Pearse. But I don’t spell it like the twelfth president.”

I nod. “So how do you spell your last name, Franklin?”

“P-E-A-R-S-E.”

Gabriel returns during the spelling bee. “Sandwich will be about five minutes or so.”

“Gabriel, Franklin just told me his last name is Pearse, but not spelled like Franklin Pierce, the president. He spells it P-E-A-R-S-E.”

“That’s right,” Franklin confirms.

“Good to know,” Gabriel says with a smile. “Thank you for that, Franklin. And like I said before, even though I know that the questions we have for you are going to be the same types of questions the other police officers asked, it’s important that I hear the answers directly from you, okay?”

Franklin doesn’t say “okay” this time. In fact, he doesn’t acknowledge that Gabriel has said anything at all.

I decide that, because my rapport with him thus far has been good, I’ll ask the first question. “As I understand it, last Friday night, you were in Central Park at about one in the morning. Is that right?”

“Don’t know the time. Don’t remember the day either. Could have been Friday or Saturday or some other day. Also don’t know if it was near the duck pond or some other place in the park. I always go to a bunch of places because the bigring can take two hundred and forty cans at a time.”

“I’m sorry, what’s a bigring?” I ask.