“. . . And if I DO press charges?” I pressed, trying to sort it out.
“I’m not a judge,” the captain shrugged, “so I can’t say for sure . . . but I can give you my best guess.”
“Please.”
“We’ll charge them with Attempted Robbery and Assault with Intent To Do Great Bodily Harm . . . I don’t think we could make Attempted Murder stick.”
That sounded pretty good to me, but the policeman wasn’t finished.
“. . . Then the court will appoint a lawyer—if they don’t already have one—who will arrange for bail to be set. They’ll probably raise the money from a bondsman and be back on the streets before noon tomorrow.”
“What? But they . . .”
“It’ll take a couple of months for the trial to be scheduled, at which point it’ll be your word against theirs . . . and they’re not only locals, they have you outnumbered.” I was starting to see the light.
“. . . That is, if it gets to trial. More than likely there’ll be some plea bargaining, and they’ll plead guilty to a lesser charge, which means a smaller sentence with an earlier parole—if the sentence isn’t suspended as soon as it’s handed down . . .”
“Whoa! Stop! I think I’ll just pass on pressing charges.”
“Thought you would,” the captain nodded. “It’s prob ably the easiest way for everybody. After all, you weren’t hurt, and you’ve still got your money.”
“Of course, the next person they jump may not be quite so lucky” I said dryly.
“I didn’t say it was the best way to handle it, just the easiest.”
Before I could think of a witty answer to that one, a uniformed policeman rapped at the doorframe, entered the room, and passed a sheet of paper to the captain. Something about the way the latter* s lips tightened as he scanned the sheet made me nervous.