Franklin laughs. It’s the first time I’ve heard that sound coming out of him. “It’s not a big ring, like you put on a big finger, or something. The big . . . green, like the color. It’s what the machine you put the cans and bottles in is called.”

Gabriel looks at me and smiles as if to say “Everybody knows that.”

“I understand. Sorry for interrupting. Please continue,” I say.

“Okay. So I’m loading it up. Now, you can only get twelve dollars, and so that’s two hundred and forty cans, right?”

He waits for me to confirm his math. I say, “Right,” even though I have no idea how much he might get for each can.

Gabriel puts him back on track. “While you’re loading up the cans, what did you see?”

“Didn’t see nothing at first. But what I did was hear something. It was like boom boom. Sounded like firecrackers, but not as loud.”

“You heard two of them?” I follow up.

“Yeah. Boom boom. Like that. One right after the other.”

“What happened after that?” Gabriel says.

“Nothing. I didn’t know nobody was dead. I just thought . . . I don’t know what I thought, but I kept filling up my bag. But then I saw someone . . . they was running away. I know I should have checked to see what was happening . . . maybe that poor lady would be alive if I did, but I had the cans and I didn’t want someone to steal them. I didn’t know they were gunshots neither. I just thought . . .”

His voice trails off, as if he’s embarrassed. Even though he hasn’t shown the slightest trace of indignity about being homeless, how he smells, or what he looks like, he recognizes that not helping someone in need is shameful.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Gabriel assures him. “You didn’t even know that you heard gunshots, right? I’m glad you didn’t go to look. If someone has a gun, you need to stay clear of them. The best way for you to help that lady is to tell us what the person you saw running away looked like.”

“I saw them from behind. Didn’t see any face. Just somebody wearing a black sweatshirt with a hood.”

“Could you tell if the man was white or black?” Gabriel presses.

“You need to see their face to tell that. Like I said, I didn’t.”

“Okay,” Gabriel says. “How about how tall he was?” Gabriel stands up. “Was the person you saw as tall as me?”

“No. More like me,” Franklin says. “At least I think so. He was far away.”

He means someone closer to five and a half feet tall. In other words, much shorter than Drake McKenney—but still very much in the ballpark for Richard Trofino.

26. ELLA BRODEN

26.

ELLA BRODEN