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you on the security surveillance video in that store at twenty-five minutes to midnight. Yet you told me—you told me
twice
now—that you were home by 10:30. But you weren’t. You were at that store at twenty-five minutes to midnight. That means that if you walked home from that store, you couldn’t have been home before midnight. That’s one and a half hours
later
than what you told us. Why did you lie, David?”
    I glanced at my mother. Her face was white. She was staring at me like we were strangers. I looked at Detective Antonelli.
    â€œI’m not supposed to be out that late,” I said. “I’m supposed to be home by 11:00 on Saturday night. I didn’t want my mom to get mad at me.” I turned to her. “I’m sorry I lied, Mom.”
    â€œLying to the police is a serious matter, David,” Detective Antonelli said.
    â€œI know. I’m sorry.” I didn’t even have to pretend. I really was sorry—sorry that he’d found out.
    â€œSo now you’re saying you
were
in that store approximately ten minutes before your stepfather was shot?” Detective Antonelli said.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThis is an important question, David,” Detective Antonelli said.
    â€œMaybe he should have a lawyer,” my mother said. That made me feel a little better. Maybe she thought I’d done something wrong, but at least she still cared enough to worry about what was best for me.
    â€œDo you want to call a lawyer, David?” Detective Antonelli said.
    I shook my head. “No.”
    â€œDavid, where did you go after you left the store?”
    â€œI went home.”
    â€œWhich direction did you go in?”
    â€œI walked west.”
    â€œOn what street?”
    â€œMain Street.” The bank machine where Phil had been shot was in the other direction.
    â€œDid you hear anything?”
    He meant, like a gunshot.
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œNothing?” he said.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNot a gunshot?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou were in the vicinity when your stepfather was shot and you didn’t hear anything? Can you explain that, David?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “Well, except that I walk pretty fast. I was probably all the way down by Second Avenue, maybe even halfway to Third, by the time it must have happened. And I was playing music on my Mp3 player. I play my music pretty loud.”
    â€œDid you see anyone while you were walking, David?”
    â€œI don’t know. Maybe. Nobody I knew.”
    â€œNobody who could confirm where you say you were?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said.
    Detective Antonelli stared at me again for a few moments.
    â€œHow well did you get along with your stepfather, David?” he said.
    He thought I’d done it. He thought I was the one who had shot Phil. Why else would he ask me that question?
    â€œHe was okay,” I said.
    â€œThat’s not what we heard,” Detective Antonelli said. “We heard that you and your stepfather argued a lot.”
    â€œWell, yeah,” I said. “Most guys I know argue with their parents. But that doesn’t mean they go out and shoot them.”
    â€œWhat kind of things did you argue about?”
    I shrugged. “Regular stuff,” I said. “Chores. Curfews. Homework.” Mostly what happened was that my mother complained to Phil on the weekend about something I’d done during the week while he was on the road, and Phil yelled at me about it. Or Phil had a bunch of chores that he wanted me to do, and I got mad because he was mostly never home, and the minute he gothome he was like the evil stepmother— Cinderella, do this. Cinderella, do that. And I was Cinderella.
    â€œDid he ever hit you?”
    â€œ
What
?” Phil was a jerk, but he wasn’t that kind of a jerk. “No.”
    Detective Antonelli looked at my mother for confirmation. My mother’s face was tense. She