Note: This is a present-day event, (continuation of odd-numbered time-span: 1,3, etc.)

"Come along," said Sergeant McCallister.

"Where to?"

"The local precinct. The community service centre."

I frown.

"The police station, Erick."

"Are you arresting me?"

"No. You must come and make a statement." Sergeant McCallister was right, it was going to be a long day.

A little while later I get into the back of the police car. The classes are changing. Curious eyes stare at me. They can think about what they want.

The asphalt road on which we stop in front of the police station is crumbling against the curb. A fence about four meters high spans the building. Every few steps there is a lamppost that would illuminate the fence in the dark. On the pale winter grass in front of the sandstone building with the green are two flagpoles. On the left hangs the national flag, on the right the police flag.

The police offices are clean, but the furniture is old. In the office where we sit, there is a single
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