Bill Johns and several other people attempt to understand the significance of the appearance of a new drug named Morpheus and its use in an experiment with college students as test subjects.
Police Headquarters, Franklin Square - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 8:00 PM - Wednesday, July 16, 1969
Father Nathaniel Levington walked into the small, square interview room. He was in his fifties with gray hair, and his priest's collar was easily recognizable. The only furniture was a wooden table and two matching chairs, one in front of it and one behind it. Brian Anderson sat on the chair behind the table, wearing a gray prison uniform. A man in a suit and tie in his thirties also stood in the room, evidently the lawyer, Alan Gains. The police shut the door behind the priest to give the three men some privacy.
Alan stood in a corner, trying to avoid being in the way. The priest was here to see Brian. Alan, by contrast, was mainly here on the off-chance that he could get anything more done tonight.
"After I left the church, I went to have dinner," said Brian, sighing. "After that I went to Lenny's Bar. I often hang out there in the evenings. I got there around 7:30, maybe a little after, and ordered a drink like I usually do. I had some drugs in my backpack, various kinds. I...I sometimes sell them to my friends who want to score. There's this young guy named Harry who started showing up there a couple of weeks ago, and he was interested, so I go over to his table and start showing him what I've got. I was selling him some Lucy- sorry, LSD, when these cops burst into the bar and arrest us. I try to tell them that my dad's real important in the hopes they'll back off. The tall one, Lieutenant John Yeager, says something rude about my mother and I just kind of lost control. I tried to smack him one, but he was ready. A second later he has my arms behind my back, and this other cop is about to start beating me. Then this whacked-out old guy comes in from the bathroom and accuses me of trying to kill him! I don't know who he is. I've never seen him before in my life and I've never tried to kill anyone. I know the old man must have been the one who narced on me, but I don't know why he's got it in for me. Funny thing is, he tells the cops not to hit me. They listen to him and they believe his nutty story," He paused in thought. "It's almost like he's one of them. Maybe he is."
OOC,Keeper, small question. I just thought of a technicality that could easily get him off unless I'm missing something. The Miranda Warnings were issued in 1966, three years before the time in the setting. It'd be fairly new and easy to forget, and the cops didn't exactly seem the overly competent type. Would Alan be able to remember the Miranda Warnings?
OOC,Dang it, never mind that, I apparently heard them do it.
Alan remembered back to what he had heard when they arrested him.
Brian Anderson, you're under arrest for attempted murder, possession and sale of illegal drugs, assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest, and generally being a complete dick. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you by the court.
They'd read him his rights (he'd underestimate them there), but they'd left a possibility open. If this was the young man's first offense (which he didn't doubt), he could argue for leniency that way. The cops had provoked Brian to the assault charge, leaving him an opening to counterattack, and the attempted murder was obviously out. The drugs might not be so easy to get rid of...
"Brian..." Levington said. "I sympathise, but I'm not sure how I can help. I'm not an expert in the law, I'm a preacher. If you need a character witness, I can vouche for you, or if you need someone to talk to, I can do that too."
"I've got an expert on the law here," said Brian, indicating Alan. "Mostly I do need someone to talk to. A character witness, yeah, that's a good idea too. I just want to get bailed out of here and go home. I really don't want my dad to find out about this. Or my girlfriend." He put his head in his hands. "The drug I stole from my father, it's called Morpheus. I poured it out of its flask in the lab and into a thermos, then rinsed the empty flask and put it away in a cabinet with a bunch of other empties. Maybe he won't have noticed it's gone yet. If I can get it back and replace it fast enough, he'll never have to know. The problem is, the thermos was in my backpack with the drugs, and the cops took it."
"I think the retreaval of you backpack and its contents might be better handled by Mr. Gains here. All I would have as a tool is my charming personality." Levington said, nodding to Alan. "But what did you want to talk about?"
"I know you must be feeling the weight of what you've done, and how that will change how other people like your father will look at you, but you listen to me, I've worked with young men like you for thirty years and if there is one thing that I've learned, its that a life can never be ruined. When I was younger just out of seminary school I was working in a prison ministry, I and some other religious leaders from the community would preach three or four times a week to the men in one of the prisons in upstate West Viginia. There was a young man there, about your age, who'd been sentanced to a life term. He was a rapist. Across the state of West Virginia he'd raped five women and killed two of them, the two murders were what led to his arrest. This man, Jacob, was vocally irritated by our presence and he'd be derogitory and discouraging to me and the men with me at every opportunity. I was suprised when one day the guards told me that Jacob had asked if I would visit him in his cell. When I walked in, I hadn't had the chance to say anything or even sit down when Jacob looked up at me with tears in his eyes and he asked me, do you think I can be forgiven for what I've done?"
"Things are going to change for you after today. I don't think your going to get out of this without your friends and family finding out whats happened. You've been caught with drugs, and if you manage to hide the theft of this Morpheus stuff from your father, you've got more luck then brains. That is going to brand you for the rest of your life. When people look at you they're not going to see Brian Anderson, they're going to see a theif and a drug dealer. But thats not important, because thats not who you are. The question you have to ask yourself is are you going to listen to them? There is a belief out there that people can't really change. People are constantly defining one another by the past, what they have experienced before, and we conform to those definitions. We're enslaved by them. I knew a smart young man in high school, and I mean sharp, that never got very good grades. His mother was constantly telling him he would never amount to anything, his teachers dismissed him, but all the while I could see a glimer of what he really was. But he listened to them. He bought that he couldn't be any better then he was, and he works far below his intellegence level because he believes he's too stupid to do anything else."
"Every single morning when you wake up you have a choice. It doesn't matter a lick what you did the day before, you can choose to do something completely different today. I know that religion isn't a popular thing with people today, but hear me out. In Lamentations the author writes about the destruction of Jerusalem and his people the Jews as a result of their wrong doing. But his conclusion at the end of the book is that there is still hope, he said. But this I call to mind and therefore I have hope. Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning ; great is your faithfulness. God offers something that people don't. Freedom. He offers freedom from all past wrongs, all transgressions and although the entire world may point at you and call you evil, God will embrace you and call you son."
"My friend Jacob has changed a lot since I first met him. They call him the Prison Preacher. Where ever he's being held to serve out his sentance he carries the gosple with him to whoever will listen. And let me tell you, he has done great things, he's like Paul reincarnated."
"All that is to say, you don't have to be ruined. He can change your name. The world might call you drug dealer, but he will call you faithful. They might call you theif, but he will call you son. He knows who you are Brian, he made you. And he knows that there is greatness in you, the only question is, how will you let your experiences shape you?"
"But why is this happening to me?" asked Brian. "Who is this crazy old guy, and why did he accuse me of trying to kill him? Maybe...maybe you could find out for me. I know I won't be allowed to talk to him, and I doubt I'd get anything out of him anyway."
"I've been thinking about that fellow. I don't think its a coincidence that this has happened to you at the same time that you took that drug from your father. Did you have a plan as to who you were going to sell it to? Did someone put you up to it?"
"No, I guess I didn't really plan things out at all," said Brian. "Story of my life, huh? I was just going to sell it to whoever was willing to pay a lot. It was all my idea, and a pretty dumb one too. Nobody else is even supposed to know about it. Dad's real secretive, and he protects the formula for how it's made better than they guard the recipe for Kentucky Fried Chicken. He never even told me Morpheus existed. I only found out about it because, well, I'm kind of a snoop."
"I don't know," said Brian. "It would be harder for someone who wasn't part of it, but I guess it's possible. The first experiment was carried out a couple of weeks ago, and there were six students who took part. I guess they might have been able to figure something out. Maybe you could find out if someone else is interested in Morpheus and the experiment."
