Free Punishment by Linden MacIntyre

of an outsider in a tight, dare I say, inbred community. What he was like as an inmate, how he worked to turn his life around. You know his institutional history, which was pretty positive, I understand. What do you think?”
    “An affidavit,” I said. “I could be called then, and cross-examined?”
    “Technically.”
    I suppressed a smile. Technically? “I’m not sure that I could be very helpful. We grew up in the same place, but at different times. I never met him here. I think the Crown would argue that any insights I achieved in prison would have been affected by the circumstances.”
    “That I was putting on an act?” said Strickland.
    “I wouldn’t say that, but someone else might.”
    “I think your words would carry a lot of weight,” said Sullivan. “We’d be before a judge and I think he or she would pay attention to anything you had to say.”
    Nobody spoke for what seemed like a full minute. “What do you think, Dwayne?” I asked.
    “I hate putting you on the spot,” he said. “You’re probably thinking about how you gotta live there. What they’re going to think. But you’ve always been one for doing the right thing, eh.”
    His eyes were steady, unblinking, a slight smile at the corners of his mouth. “Plus, I think you probably owe me one.”
    “Owe you?” said Sullivan. “Owe you what?”
    I cocked my head. “Where have I heard that before?”
    “I’m just sayin’.”
    “Do we really want to talk about that again, Dwayne?”
    “What’s the downside?”
    “About the Italian? You’re sure.”
    “What Italian?” Sullivan was puzzled.
    “There was a situation,” I said carefully, “when Dwayne had a choice to make, whether to respond as a convict or as a citizen.”
    “I see,” said Sullivan. “I’m assuming he made the right choice.”
    “I couldn’t say for sure,” I said. “I couldn’t swear to it.”
    “How about if I tell you up front,” Strickland said. “I ratted out some guys for a murder in the joint.”
    Sullivan seemed to jerk backwards, face surprised.
    “You did?” I said. “Not to me.”
    “No. I kept you out of it. I told the IPSOs. I also told the shrink, the cute one, Sophie. You can check it out.”
    “I don’t work there anymore.”
    “You still have contacts.”
    I shook my head. How much should I disclose? How much does he already know? “It’s pretty sensitive,” I said.
    “Mr. Sullivan put his finger on it,” said Strickland. “Comes a moment in everybody’s life when you gotta pick a side. Right or wrong. Even if everything is on the line. You know what I’m sayin’, Tony?” His eyes were briefly anxious.
    “I’ll have to think about it,” I said, suddenly too warm. “You’d really want that on the record, Dwayne? Public testimony that you informed on a couple of other inmates? Guys like the Horse and Driscoll? The media would be all over it.”
    “If it would get me off I wouldn’t have to worry, right? They’re both doing life twenty-five. Maybe facing dangerous offender. We’ll all be old people when they get out. Anyway, if we can keep it from going to trial, who’d ever hear about it?”
    “I’ll think about it,” I said.
    “Oh. And you should know Mr. Sullivan plans to get in touch with Anna. You can maybe let her know.”
    “Anna and I aren’t together anymore,” I said.
    “Oh, really?” Dwayne’s surprise was genuine. “Christ. That must be tough. Since when?”
    “It’s not really relevant,” I said. “Suit yourself about getting in touch with her, though I can’t imagine how she might help.”
    “Character,” said Sullivan. “She can talk about his character and how hard he worked to improve himself.”
    “Anna was the best friend I ever had, for a while there,” said Strickland, face now slightly flushed. I asked myself if I was imagining some insinuation in his tone.
    “I envied you,” said Strickland. “I really did. I’m really sorry to hear that you two split. Anna is one