The Fence - Dick Lehr [74]
Most memorably, he heard Dave Williams come in and say, “I think cops did this.” He’d heard his mother gasp, and his first reaction was to worry about her. “She began making statements like, ‘Oh, God,’ and I just remember wanting to have a conversation calming her down because it was bad enough. She hated the way I looked and thought that I was going to die right there. I just wanted to calm her down.”
It was vintage Mike, worrying about what others were thinking.
Kimberly, meanwhile, was left speechless. She didn’t know what to think, but soon enough she began smoldering inside. She kept returning her gaze to the large bump on Mike’s head. “It was a huge mass,” she said. To her, it was proof Mike had been hit hard. The idea made her furious: Mike had been attacked by other officers who’d crossed the line from reasonable to excessive force. They’d hit him and then run.
“They shouldn’t have left him,” she said.
Mike picked up on his wife’s anger. But, of course, he was mostly in the dark, and his family was focused on his care, not getting to the bottom of his beating. The doctors wanted to admit him for further treatment. Kimberly had a different idea. She wanted to take Mike home. “I could watch him closer.” By her calculation, her one-on-one care was better than, say, a ratio of one hospital nurse for every five patients. She was graduating in five months from medical school, and she’d done a rotation in neurology at the New England Medical Center. She was confident she knew what to look for.
“I just felt I could give him better care at home.”
So while daylight spread over the city, Kimberly brought Mike home to the two-family house on Supple Street in Dorchester owned by one of Mike’s sisters. The light outside bothered Mike and made him squint. Voices made him cringe. His head pounded. Walking unsteadily to the house, he felt the world spinning. He could not think straight.
His sons, Mike Jr. and Nick, were waiting, wondering why their parents weren’t home when they awoke. “They really looked up to my husband,” Kimberly said. The boys sometimes talked about growing up to be a police officer like their father. “He’s this big guy,” she said. “Daddy, you know, is invincible.” The boys had never really seen their father sick or off his feet. “All of a sudden, he’s been knocked down.”
Nick, who had turned five earlier in the month, hung back while his father was helped into bed. Then he slowly walked into his parents’ bedroom—and he froze. He turned and ran quickly from the sleeping giant—from the man who was supposed to be his father but whose misshapen and monstrous-looking face was unrecognizable.
Nearly a week passed before Nick ventured back.
CHAPTER 10
No Official Complaint
Sometime during Mike’s first night home he bolted up in bed. It was a sudden and nearly violent movement. Kimberly awakened immediately. She saw that Mike was soaked in his own sweat.
What’s wrong? she asked.
Mike didn’t respond. His shoulders shuddered, as if trying to hide something.
Then Kimberly heard: Mike was crying.
Mike? she said.
Mike wasn’t sure what was going on. He felt frightened to the bone, a feeling that was crystal clear, even though he’d come home woozy from a combination of his