“I need my violin,” Ray told her. “They took it from me.”
The violin reappeared. He examined it carefully. It seemed fine.
He didn’t look back as he left.
Professor DeLongue led him to her Audi, the student following behind. They’d drop the student off to pick up Ray’s car, but she’d take Ray right now to his hotel so he could get cleaned up and get some rest. His clothes and car would be there in no time. She couldn’t stop apologizing. He barely spoke, just hugged the violin case tightly.
Suddenly he was exhausted—he felt as if the blood had stopped moving in his veins. Officer E. Bocquet—all those cops—had treated him like he’d murdered the Pope. Why did it keep happening?
He knew the answer, of course.
Later, after the check-in and the shower and the delivery of his suitcase and the throwing away of the clothes he’d been wearing and the wrapping of himself in the thick white terrycloth of the Best Western’s bathrobe, he called Janice again.
After reassuring her that he was fine, and thanking her profusely for helping free him, he told her what he wanted to happen next.
* * *
—
Later that morning, at 11:00 a.m., Ray entered the conference room of the Best Western in West Baton Rouge Parish. Janice had flown in earlier and now sat in the front row. There were a dozen or so people in the room, and flashbulbs were going off as he threaded his way to the podium, unfolded the paper he’d printed out an hour ago, and leaned into the microphone.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I would like to begin by offering my sincerest apologies to everyone who expected to see me at last night’s recital. I never made it to the recital hall at LSU. While I was on my way, I was pulled over by Sergeant Ezra Bocquet of the Baton Rouge Police Department. That’s B-O-C-Q-U-E-T, E-Z-R-A. He made me get out of my car and get on my knees with his gun pointed at my head because I made an illegal lane change. I was demeaned, demoralized, and treated like a criminal as I was taken to jail in handcuffs because I changed lanes. The people of Baton Rouge are some of the luckiest people on Earth to have policing like this. I accept full responsibility for signaling and making a left turn from a right lane. I truly hope that you good people of this city let your police department know how you feel about it as well. Questions?”
The room erupted.
Ray hadn’t realized, but Kristoff had come after all. He hadn’t even reached out to Ray ahead of time. Now he leaned against the back wall, expressionless.
“Are you saying the police department is racist?” one reporter asked.
“I’m not saying anything of the kind,” Ray said.
“Have you faced racial discrimination before?” asked another.
“Constantly,” Ray said.
“Did you provoke the officer in any way?”
“No,” Ray said.
“Do you feel you are owed an apology?” “What will you do now?” “Do you have any plans to return to Baton Rouge?”
Ray answered the last question: “I can say with all certainty that I will never return to the city of Baton Rouge under any circumstances.”
Twenty minutes later, he thanked the reporters for coming and left. Janice met him outside.
“Well?” he asked her.
“You were wonderful.”
Kristoff strolled up as they were getting into a town car. “You certainly messed this up. You should have been apologetic to all the people that paid to see your Stradivarius. This is going to take some serious damage control.”
Janice opened her mouth to speak, but Ray held up his hand. He leaned forward and looked up at Kristoff, who was about to get into the passenger seat. “Kristoff,” he said, “you’re a joke. You are a complete and total joke. How I’ve managed to tolerate you as long as I have is a miracle. I’ll pay for the rest of this month and a one-way plane ticket back to DC. In other words, your sorry wack ass is fired, bro.”
Kristoff said nothing for a moment, his mouth working. “You can’t fire me, you arrogant son of a bitch.” He pointed at Ray. “You’ll never make it as a soloist. You can’t play your way out of a paper bag. That violin is the only reason you are even in my presence.”
“You’re right, Kristoff. Never mind about the plane ticket. Let’s go.”
As they drove off, he and Janice burst into laughter.
“You know what?” Ray said. “That really felt good. Today is a new day. I think I just became a man.”
“Welcome to manhood, kid,” Janice told him.