There was a homicide here last week. A transient was kicked to death by another among the homeless sleeping, shoulder to shoulder, perpendicular to the sidewalk under the cover of the bridge and the flyways to the frontage street.
The mope is drunk and angry. He's bare chested bearing an "SS" tattoo on his right tri-cep, chest bumping the peacemaker among the homeless camp.
We separate the two.
The mope's not listening to Endeavor.
I walk up, put the mope between Endeavor and me, catch Endeavor's eye and wink.
We snatch him up. He starts to stiffen.
Relax. You're going to Detox.
"You mean it?"
"Really, you're not going to jail me."
You're going to Detox.
"Look me in the eye and tell me."
I look him in the eye.
You are going to detox.
He relaxes and says, " Can I tell you, right now, I love you more than anybody!"