Preface
I'm a lawyer. Just passed the bar in Oklahoma City and scouting around for a good case. I want to be like F.Lee Bailey, make a name for myself on some high profile case.
I read the papers from all over the state. See if I can't find something juicy I could get in on at the ground level. You got to be an ambulance chaser.
I found something interesting out of Tulsa. Couple of days ago a high school kid was found dead in a park on the poor side of town. A rich kid. The two poor kids involved skipped town.
This is good. Great. These two in the paper, they look so young. 14 and 16. Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis. Ponyboy? What a name. I'll never get over these hick names. Won't find a name like that in the Northeast, where I'm from. Looks like the Cade kid is the one who did it, knifed the poor bastard in cold blood. Ponyboy must just be along for the ride.
Well, looks like I'm heading for Tulsa. I'll poke around, see if I can't talk to people who know these two. Who knows? I may be able to win this case.
Setting the Ground Work
I arrive in Tulsa. Grab a paper and a coffee. It's front page news again. Police looking in Texas for missing fugitives.
The logical place to start is Cade's house. I brace myself for distraught parents, maybe weepy siblings, who the hell knows?
I knock, glance around at the ragged junk filled lawn. Rotting tacked on porch, junk cars.
"Yes?" A small, dark haired, dark eyed woman opens the door a crack, regards me suspiciously.
"Mrs. Cade?" I use my most polite, ingratiating tone. The old charm.
"What?" She's not biting, those big dark eyes narrowed to suspicious little slits.
"I'm D.K. Williams, a lawye"
"We ain't talkin' to no more reporters!" She slams the door. I knock again and call out plaintivily, "Ma'am".
The door opens a crack. I've got to be fast.
"I'm not a reporter, ma'am, I'm a lawyer, and I think I can help your son,"
She looks at me, the suspicion tempered by doubt.
"He's not here," she says.
"I know that, but I thought if I could talk to you about him I"
"Look, I said he ain't here. You know where he is? He's off with those no count hoodlum friends of his, and now they've gotten him into trouble..." She trails off, looks back into the house because of a noise, and her suspicious doubtful look darkens to fear.
"Go talk to the Curtis's, he's always there anyhow," She slams the door in my face. They were my next stop. And luckily it's right up the street.
At the Curtis residence the door is answered by a serious looking kid. He looks like a body builder who reads philosophy books.
"Yeah?" He is suspicious, too. I clear my throat and wonder if I'll get any further with him.
"I'm D.K. Williams, a lawyer from Oklahoma City. I heard about the incident that occurred here a few days ago. I came in the hopes that I could be of some assistance,"
"Who is it, Dar?" a kid inside said, and came over to the door. This kid looks like some model or movie star.
"A lawyer," he says, then opens the door, "come in,"
We sit at the kitchen table and I'm introduced. Darrel and Sodapop. Sodapop? Christ, I'll never get used to these names. I thought Ponyboy was bad.
Darrel was tense but still. Sodapop kind of bounced in his seat and looked ready to interrupt any second.
"Mr.Williams," Darrel says, and shoots Sodapop a look that means, 'settle down,'. He tries but doesn't quite manage it.
"Mr.Williams, I'm afraid we don't have any money," Darrel looks apologetic about this but not sorry.
"I understand. I was planning on taking the case pro bono," If I win the publicity will more than make up for any monetary gains I miss up front.
"Pro bono?" Sodapop says, bouncing in the seat again.
"Yeah. It means for free," Darrel tells him.
"So, what do you say?" I look to Darrel because he is the decision maker, I can see that.
"Well, they're not here," he says slowly.
"I know, do you know where they are?" I say, and I observe closely for the tell tale signs of lying. Darrel shakes his head and looks straight into my eyes.
"No,"
"It's o.k.," I say, and pull out a legal pad.
"Anything you could tell me would be helpful," I sit back, uncap my pen, wait.
"Like what?" Darrel says, and Sodapop looks again from Darrel to me and back again.
"Like, well, what do you know about what happened in the park that night?"
"The socs were hunting for them and Johnny killed one," Darrel says, not looking at me, hiding something.
"Socs?" I say, jotting the word down. What in the hell is a soc?
"It's what we call the rich kids," Sodapop says, and jumps up, comes over and looks at my paper.
"Like socialites, ya know? High society, socs,"
"Why were the 'socs' hunting for them?" I say. Darrel shrugs but Sodapop pipes up,
"Those girls, right? Isn't that what Dal said? They picked up some soc girls at the drive in,"
"Who is Dal?" I ask. Follow every lead.
"Dallas Winston. He was with them at the movies for awhile," Darrel says. I circle the name. I'll need to speak with him.
"And you don't know where they are?" I say. Darrel shakes his head but Sodapop says, "Dal knows," and Darrel glares at him. I really need to find this Dallas Winston.
I'm a lawyer. Just passed the bar in Oklahoma City and scouting around for a good case. I want to be like F.Lee Bailey, make a name for myself on some high profile case.
I read the papers from all over the state. See if I can't find something juicy I could get in on at the ground level. You got to be an ambulance chaser.
I found something interesting out of Tulsa. Couple of days ago a high school kid was found dead in a park on the poor side of town. A rich kid. The two poor kids involved skipped town.
This is good. Great. These two in the paper, they look so young. 14 and 16. Johnny Cade and Ponyboy Curtis. Ponyboy? What a name. I'll never get over these hick names. Won't find a name like that in the Northeast, where I'm from. Looks like the Cade kid is the one who did it, knifed the poor bastard in cold blood. Ponyboy must just be along for the ride.
Well, looks like I'm heading for Tulsa. I'll poke around, see if I can't talk to people who know these two. Who knows? I may be able to win this case.
Setting the Ground Work
I arrive in Tulsa. Grab a paper and a coffee. It's front page news again. Police looking in Texas for missing fugitives.
The logical place to start is Cade's house. I brace myself for distraught parents, maybe weepy siblings, who the hell knows?
I knock, glance around at the ragged junk filled lawn. Rotting tacked on porch, junk cars.
"Yes?" A small, dark haired, dark eyed woman opens the door a crack, regards me suspiciously.
"Mrs. Cade?" I use my most polite, ingratiating tone. The old charm.
"What?" She's not biting, those big dark eyes narrowed to suspicious little slits.
"I'm D.K. Williams, a lawye"
"We ain't talkin' to no more reporters!" She slams the door. I knock again and call out plaintivily, "Ma'am".
The door opens a crack. I've got to be fast.
"I'm not a reporter, ma'am, I'm a lawyer, and I think I can help your son,"
She looks at me, the suspicion tempered by doubt.
"He's not here," she says.
"I know that, but I thought if I could talk to you about him I"
"Look, I said he ain't here. You know where he is? He's off with those no count hoodlum friends of his, and now they've gotten him into trouble..." She trails off, looks back into the house because of a noise, and her suspicious doubtful look darkens to fear.
"Go talk to the Curtis's, he's always there anyhow," She slams the door in my face. They were my next stop. And luckily it's right up the street.
At the Curtis residence the door is answered by a serious looking kid. He looks like a body builder who reads philosophy books.
"Yeah?" He is suspicious, too. I clear my throat and wonder if I'll get any further with him.
"I'm D.K. Williams, a lawyer from Oklahoma City. I heard about the incident that occurred here a few days ago. I came in the hopes that I could be of some assistance,"
"Who is it, Dar?" a kid inside said, and came over to the door. This kid looks like some model or movie star.
"A lawyer," he says, then opens the door, "come in,"
We sit at the kitchen table and I'm introduced. Darrel and Sodapop. Sodapop? Christ, I'll never get used to these names. I thought Ponyboy was bad.
Darrel was tense but still. Sodapop kind of bounced in his seat and looked ready to interrupt any second.
"Mr.Williams," Darrel says, and shoots Sodapop a look that means, 'settle down,'. He tries but doesn't quite manage it.
"Mr.Williams, I'm afraid we don't have any money," Darrel looks apologetic about this but not sorry.
"I understand. I was planning on taking the case pro bono," If I win the publicity will more than make up for any monetary gains I miss up front.
"Pro bono?" Sodapop says, bouncing in the seat again.
"Yeah. It means for free," Darrel tells him.
"So, what do you say?" I look to Darrel because he is the decision maker, I can see that.
"Well, they're not here," he says slowly.
"I know, do you know where they are?" I say, and I observe closely for the tell tale signs of lying. Darrel shakes his head and looks straight into my eyes.
"No,"
"It's o.k.," I say, and pull out a legal pad.
"Anything you could tell me would be helpful," I sit back, uncap my pen, wait.
"Like what?" Darrel says, and Sodapop looks again from Darrel to me and back again.
"Like, well, what do you know about what happened in the park that night?"
"The socs were hunting for them and Johnny killed one," Darrel says, not looking at me, hiding something.
"Socs?" I say, jotting the word down. What in the hell is a soc?
"It's what we call the rich kids," Sodapop says, and jumps up, comes over and looks at my paper.
"Like socialites, ya know? High society, socs,"
"Why were the 'socs' hunting for them?" I say. Darrel shrugs but Sodapop pipes up,
"Those girls, right? Isn't that what Dal said? They picked up some soc girls at the drive in,"
"Who is Dal?" I ask. Follow every lead.
"Dallas Winston. He was with them at the movies for awhile," Darrel says. I circle the name. I'll need to speak with him.
"And you don't know where they are?" I say. Darrel shakes his head but Sodapop says, "Dal knows," and Darrel glares at him. I really need to find this Dallas Winston.