Winter Counts(48)
“Turnips? Since when have you been a turnip hunter?”
“Well, Lack told me the tinpsila is the most important indigenous food from the Plains. You can eat it raw, roast it like a potato, even grind it into flour and make Indian bread.”
“How does he know about Plains food? Being from California.”
“Washington, originally. Now he lives in Los Angeles. What difference does it make? He knows about Native foods from all regions, it’s his passion.”
“What’s he still doing here?” I asked. “Thought he was supposed to leave.”
“He really likes it here and changed his schedule to stay a while. He says he’s tired of the California scene. We’re having lunch tomorrow, why don’t you come?”
Since when did Marie know this guy well enough to have lunch with him?
“Sure, I’ll join you tomorrow. Pass on the turnip hunting, though.”
LATER IN THE DAY, I left to visit Nathan at the juvenile detention center. A staff member led me back to the visiting area. We passed by the medicine wheel mural that proclaimed YOU HAVE A CHOICE! I wondered if any of us really had a choice about our judgments, or if we were forced by circumstances beyond our control into our own orbits, our own pathways.
“Uncle!” Nathan grabbed me in a tight embrace.
“Hey dude, happy to see you. You doing okay?” He didn’t look so good. There were dark hollows in his face, and he appeared ten pounds lighter.
“I’m all right. You know. It’s weird to be here.”
“They feeding you? You look skinny.”
“Yeah, I’m eating. The breakfasts are decent—cereal, maybe a boiled egg, but the lunches are pretty gross.”
“Gross? What do they give you?”
“Like tuna cakes and mashed potatoes, some old salad. Carton of milk.”
Apparently the indigenous food movement hadn’t taken root here. “What about dinner?”
“Um, maybe some canned chicken and rice. We got peach crisp yesterday, wasn’t too bad. But the portions are really small. I’m hungry all the time.”
“Is there a commissary—any way to buy snacks?”
“Naw. There’s a garden where they grow stuff sometimes, but nothing’s going on in there now.”
It pissed me off to hear he was hungry, and I was tempted to have some words with the self-satisfied facility director. But chances were, I’d end up decking him. Best to keep my mouth shut.
“Let’s talk,” I said. “There’s a lot of news.”
He looked at me expectantly.
“Best news is we got a lawyer for you. Charley Leader Charge. He’s not costing us anything, I guess he owes Ben Short Bear—you know, Marie’s dad—some favors. I went ahead and signed the papers, so he’s your guy now. I hear he’s solid, knows how to work with the whites. At first I thought he might be a hang-around-the-fort Indian, but he’s a fighter, I can tell.”
Nathan shifted around in his seat, waiting for me to say more.
“Now the bad news. The lawyer got the papers for your case and talked with the prosecutors. The charges against you—it’s pretty rough. They want to move you to federal court and charge you as an adult. Means you’d have to leave here, fight the case in Rapid City, I think.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” His face looked hopeful, but I was trying to soften the blow that was about to come.
“Well, it means you’d go to federal prison, if you lost the case. No juvie jail.”
“Oh. But there’s no way that would happen. If I can just explain to them—”
“Nathan, it’s bad. They’re charging you with distribution. There were so many pills in the locker, they think you were selling them. The sentence for selling is ten years in prison, no parole.”
“Ten years! That’s not fair!” He stood up and pushed his chair aside. “I wasn’t selling no pills! They aren’t mine!”
“Dude, take it easy. I believe you. We got to be smart and listen to what the lawyer says. He told me there may be a way to keep you out of federal prison and have the charges dropped.”
The hopeful look on his face broke my heart.
“Turns out the federal cops are chasing some drug dealers in Denver, same dudes that gave you that stuff. The heroin. The crap that—”
“But I don’t even know them—”
“Let me finish.” I stopped for a second. “They want to catch these guys selling heroin on school grounds. There’s some major penalty if you sell by a school. So they want your help. To get them off the rez. For good.”
It slowly dawned on him.
“You mean, they want me to snitch?”
I nodded, slowly. “It’s worse. They want you to wear a wire and buy drugs from the guys, then they’ll arrest them.”
“I can’t do that. Won’t happen.”
I took a moment.
“What are you worried about?” I asked. “You afraid it’ll be dangerous? Or they’ll find the wire? A cop told me the wire is really small, you can’t even see it—”
“No, that’s not it.” His face knotted as he struggled to find the words. “What it is, you gotta understand, you can’t snitch at school. It’s just not done. Anyone who rats somebody else out, the kids hate him. Like, everybody.”