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Log 11:53pm. Wall Street, Vancover. Friday May 14, 200x
Caller – Is that 911? Quick, quick, quick.
911 –
Caller – Yes, police. Police please, emergency.
911 –
Caller – My ex-husband (weeping) took my child and he’s got him in the basement. He’s hiding down there, got my son with him. Please, please, you’ve got to come quick.
911 –
Caller – Yes, yes he did.
911 –
Caller – Yes, he assaulted me. Then he took my son, he’s hiding with him in the basement.
911 –
Caller – He’s four years old.
911 –
Caller – Oh yes, the offender is (weeping), he’s thirty-nine years old. Mental health issues.
911 –
Caller – History of what?
911 –
Caller – Yes, yes. Against me. He pushed me over, pushed me onto the floor.
911 –
Caller – I don’t know.
911 –
Caller – Yes, Wall Street. 2950. You’ll have to go around the back.
911 –
Caller – When will they get here?
911 –
Caller – Sure, yes, yes, I’ll stay on the line.
End Call Log

Two tall horse chestnut trees in the backyard. One night I painted them white, as far up as I could reach. Did you ever go to the south of France? Narrow roads winding across endless fields, white-washed trunks bright in the headlights. When things go better, when I forget about the meds, the scope grows. I believe the good old days can come back again, it’s all possible. Of course the neighbors didn’t see it that way. Acrylic paint splashed on crudely in the middle of the night. There’s always a gap between manic dreams and clumsy reality. I heard they tried, buckets and brushes and suds, but the paint wouldn’t come off. In the end, they cut the trees down. Easier that way.

Police Report. East Van. Saturday 15 May 200x
00:01              Arr. scene, three vehicles to rear entrance, one to front. No lights in bsmt.
00:02              Forced entry to crime scene, male suspect in bed with one of victims. Boy, age
                        approx. five years, rescued from suspect, returned to mother.
00:03               Suspect resisted arrest, white male, restrained and removed from crime scene.
                        Cuffed at rear of building.
00:07               Offender transported in vehicle #342 to holding cells at 222 Main Street.
00:25               Charge sheets completed by Officer Chan. Agg. Assault, recc. Forcible
                        Confinement of a minor.
00:53               Incident rep. completed by Officer Chan. Incident closed.
– End Police Report –

Conceived in the United Arab Emirates. Gateway to Asia. Or Europe. Guess it depends on which way you’re headed. I’d have been happy him growing up in India, but she’d have none of it. Tired of the corruption, looking for stability. The rule of law. She’d have been happy living in London, but I was looking for bigger horizons. Something different, something better. The way I see it now, we were always looking over each other’s shoulders.

Transcript. Cordova Street, Vancouver. Tuesday 18 May 200x
Perp. – Good afternoon, your Honor.
Hnr –
Perp. – Yes. Well, it’s where I used to live.
Hnr –
Perp. – With friends. On the couch.
Hnr –
Perp. – Yes, that’s right. Leave to enter the property, just for ten minutes. My wallet, my toothbrush, my meds and some clothes.
Hnr –
Perp. – No, your Honor. I was quite naked.
Hnr –
Perp. – Yes, that’s right. We were asleep in bed.
Hnr –
Perp. – Yes, your Honor. But they gave me some clothes when they locked me in the cell.
Hnr –
Perp. – No, no, my friend lent me this shirt.
Hnr –
Perp. – That’s right, I haven’t been able to buy anything.
Hnr –
Perp. – Thank you, your Honor.
Hnr –
Perp. – Yes, I understand.
Hnr –
Perp. – Yes, yes.
Hnr –
Perp. – And am I to understand she won’t be there, your Honor?
Hnr –
Perp. – That’s great. So I guess she won’t be back till around five o’clock. Thank you, your Honor.
Hnr –
Perp. – Oh, that? That’s from when they arrested me.
Hnr –
Perp. – I’m not sure I’d call it resisting arrest, your Honor.
Hnr –
Perp. – Yes, it’s from when they were standing on me. One of them had his boot on my head, when we were outside on the concrete. The other five were being pretty free with their boots too.
Hnr –
Perp. – Yes, your Honor.
Hnr –
Perp. – Yes, I understand.
– End Transcript –

My family were dismayed. Perhaps more by our choice of names than our decision to cross the Atlantic. But I still think it’s a great name. Way my mum tells it, I used to sit on the potty and watch ‘Magic Roundabout’ every day before lunch. Zebedee was my favorite, an energetic jack-in-a-box who’d sprung right out of his box. I know that feeling. Bright red head and an enormous black moustache that twirled around as he spoke. French show, it was. Turns out the BBC didn’t just translate the talking parts, they wrote entirely new stories around the same animations.

Notebook. Hastings Street, Vancouver. 18 May, 200
Perp. – Coffee, please.
Q. –
Perp. – No, no sugar.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, how about over here by the window. Still prefer to keep an eye on who’s coming and who’s going, if I can.
Q. –
Perp. – I’m glad you were at the hearing. Pretty lonely in that courtroom.
Q. –
Perp. – Oh you’re welcome. I’ll do my best. You said the Express, right?
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.
Q. –
Perp. – No, I appreciate it doesn’t make such a great story, I understand that.
Q. –
Perp. – No, I didn’t. No, what happened was that in the afternoon we’d finally finished a separation agreement. With a Justice Counsellor.
Q. –
Perp. – No, not that one. Over on Howe Street.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, of course I can. The way we agreed things, I was to move into the basement that same evening, and to start the two-day pattern with me looking after Zebedee.
Q. –
Perp. – No, that’s right. No, I wouldn’t recommend it.
Q. –
Perp. – Puts you on the defensive, I think. Symbolically. No, not just symbolically. You’re right there, under their feet. So to speak.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, that’s his name.
Q. –
Perp. – Oh, thanks. Well, anyway, as soon as we got home after signing the agreement, she left to meet with her friends at the Sand Bar.
Q. –
Perp. – Time? About 6:30, I guess. By the time she got changed, make-up, all that stuff.
Q. –
Perp. – Just over four years. 
Q. –
Perp. – No, I don’t think I’d say that. It’s been pretty difficult. I stayed home to look after our son while she went to work. I think she took adv–
Q. –
Perp. – Depends on who’s talking.
Q. –
Perp. – Okay, what I’d say is that in a fight she always uses whatever she’s got. Agreements go by the wayside. Maybe that’s what we all do, I don’t know. But her more than others, I think.
Q. –
Perp. – How’s about I tell you how it panned out and you decide?
Q. –
Perp. – Well, first thing she told them I’d abducted my own son.
Q. –
Perp. – Because I got a transcript of her 911 call.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, I do. Give me a moment. Here, you can keep it, it’s a copy.
Q. –
Perp. – No, not at all. I already told you. It was by agreement.
Q. –
Perp. – Listen, if you’re not going to believe what I’m saying, then what the fuck am –
Q. –
Perp. – Well, let’s make that our agreement and try to stick with it, shall we?
Q. –
Perp. – Okay, so Caren also told them that I was hiding in the basement, holding him against his will. Didn’t mention that just a few hours earlier she’d signed a legally binding childcare agreement. Her suggestion, it was, to have me look after him on the first night. I think she wanted to get to the pub after a difficult afternoon of negotiations.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, she was.
Q. –
Perp. – No, I know it. I lived with her for almost ten years.
Q. –
Perp. – Soon as she got home, about half eleven it was, heard her coming down the stairs. Little wooden ones, I made them myself. We have a tenant in the actual basement, I made these to get down to the garage. It’s where I have my guitars and stuff, put an extra bed down there when things started getting really difficult between us.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, that’s right. Just from the way she came down the stairs I could tell. With a few glasses inside her, guess she’d changed her mind about the separation agreement.
Q. –
Perp. – Well, she started crying, pleading with me that she needed Zebedee.
Q. –
Perp. – No, he was asleep at that time.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, quite drunk, I’m absolutely sure.
Q. –
Perp. – That’s when she started trying to pull him away from me. Reaching over me. At that time I was still in bed, and he was behind me. That’s what woke him up.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, of course he did. It was awful.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, of course I should have. I wish I had. That was a mistake, for sure.
Q. –
Perp. – Thing was, I was trying to stand by our agreement. She was having none of it. Shouting, crying the whole waterworks display. Told me I could stuff my fucking agreement up my fucking –
Q. –
Perp. – After a while, she gave up. Told me she was going to call the police. Tell you the truth, I was relieved. All I wanted was for her to stop yelling at me. I was still stuck on the agreement we’d just signed. This was the very first night of the end of our marriage. Stepping out into a future with no common understanding… I guess it felt like I was walking out on a gangplank.
Q. –
Perp. – You gotta remember, I’d been asleep for hours when she got home, then to have her start grappling with me as soon as I woke up, I didn’t really have my thinking cap on straight. Perhaps I associated the police with the courthouse, you know, the law and order thing. Structure. Had the image in my mind that some kindly community cop would show up, maybe a couple of them, read through the document, check the little table on the last page, make it all better. You ever see that British TV show, Dixon of Dock Green? Happy little world of friendly cops, saving the good people from the baddies. Anyway, she was already calling them as she disappeared again up the little wooden stairway, I even heard her voice on the phone.
Q. –
Perp. – No, it didn’t seem like there were any other options. I’ve witnessed the waterworks quite a few times over the years, and the red wine too. Even after everything, I still wonder if there’s something to be said for respecting a legal agreement over emotion.
Q. –
Perp. – I don’t know, Zebedee and I were almost asleep again. Probably about fifteen minutes.
Q. –
Perp. – No, not drinking. I’d stayed home to look after Zebedee, right? But I did have a quick puff before bed, after he fell asleep.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, just a little one. Helps me sleep.
Q. –
Perp. – First I knew about it, someone was kicking down the garage door. Everything was dark, just this kicking. I didn’t think to try find the lights. Then when the door collapses inwards, these six dark figures with flashlights on their heads come rushing in. I’d just woken up, was absolutely terrified, had no idea they were police.
Q. –
Perp. – I didn’t know what to think. What would you think, six men dressed in black, all wearing black balaclavas, break into your home in the middle of the night while you’re asleep? Some kind of fucking hit squad is what I thought.
Q. –
Perp. – That’s right, of course I did.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes, held on to him tight. Second time that night.
Q. –
Perp. – No, of course not. There were six of them, I could see their guns glinting in the light from their flashlights, heavy boots.
Q. –
Perp. – I’m not sure. Probably by the time they had me face down on the concrete out back. Five boots on my arms, legs and body, one on my the side of my face. The whole of the street lit up with glittering red and blue flashes. Not sure how I’m ever going to be able to speak to any of the neighbors again.
Q. –
Perp. – Of course, do I look like the kind of guy gets in fights?
Q. –
Perp. – You must be fucking joking. Press fucking charges while they got me for assault and possibly forcible confinement?
Q. –
Perp. – That’s right. If there’s anything I’ve learned from this, you can’t win in a fight with six armed men in balaclavas when you’re naked and half asleep.
Q. –
Perp. – Woke up in a holding cell with my face covered in wounds and a charge sheet prohibiting me from going within one kilometer of my own home.
Q. –
Perp. – You heard what the judge just said, they’re reviewing the charges.
Q. –
Perp. – I understand it might not make such a good story for you. I already said that.
Q. –
Perp. – We just made an agreement, didn’t we?
Q. –
Perp. – Well fuck you, then, write what you fucking have to you.
Q. –
Perp. – Yes I know that. Used to be a journalist myself, you know.
Q. –
Perp. – Do what you must. I guess, after all, it’s your story.
– End Notes –