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March 22, 1977 | 2:43 AM

Robert abruptly woke up to some other kid shoving his upper body, "You seriously gonna hog up the entire seat, brotha'?"

By his face, the boy looked much older, twenty, twenty-five, but his body was short and slender-nearly behind on growth compared to himself.

Robert quickly readjusted upright before apologizing. He had somehow fallen asleep overnight, amidst all the ruckus and nasty fumes created by the drunks in the cell across.

"Angelo," the guy introduced himself.

"Robert," he replied.

Robert watched as Angelo casually pulled out a new pack of Marlboro smokes and a refillable lighter from his back pocket.

"What'cha in for, Robert?" Angelo asked aloud while unwrapping the clear plastic from his unopened case.

"Eating out at Grand Park."

"No shit," Angelo commented with praise as he threw the plastic on the floor. "Was she worth it?"

Angelo opened his package and offered him a slif.

"Honestly," He noted while grabbing a cigarette from the pack, "I'm starting to think older women are the way to go."

Although he had picked himself out a much more mature-looking girl from school, somehow, they all squirted. He knew it felt good to the ladies, but Robert hated the taste of it—he hated, even more, when they didn't put it out afterward.

Angelo laughed as he pulled out his bud and lit it up first.

He passed his lighter over to Robert, "Amen to that. I'm telling you now-those older broads," he took another puff, " they have experience. Two words bro: No chafing. "

"How about you," Robert said as he lit his cigarette "What's caught ya?"

"Carjacking," Angelo replied.

Robert's eyebrows rose with curiosity. He briefly wondered about the pay rate per vehicle—it was within that same moment he also considered selling his mother's Volkswagen for bail.

"Worth it?" Robert repetitively asked as he handed back the lighter.

"For the accidental murder," Angelo replied, "Nah."

"Murder?" He never for once thought Angelo would be capable of something like that, but then again, he just met the guy, and they were both sitting in a holding cell.

"Accidental," Angelo leaned in closer, in hopes that his whispers wouldn't be heard by the other cellmates.

"So, this broad was sitting in a 64' Bug, and those are now classified vintage and go for a good amount because—," he pondered for a moment. "Well, I guessed, Kennedy loved them or something."

Robert nodded in unprecedented agreement. He'd known the former president's belongings were being sold at a high price—the same circumstances may have been applied toward the objects and hobbies he favored as well. After all, this was America, home of capitalized blood money.

"So, anyways," Angelo continues, "I tell her to get out, and normally, at this point, they're scared chickenshit so they listen—but not her."

A cloud of smoke gathered in the air overhead as they both leaned in closer.

"Nah, she started ranting on some bullshit about work, her son, and some of the same shit I've heard countless times before. I just wanted that damn car. So, I pull out my gun, you know, to scare her a bit more—but I'm telling you, this bitch wasn't having it."

"So, I threatened her with it—I had no intention of shooting it, hell I didn't even know the thing was loaded. My cousin Vinny just handed it to me for last resort, ya know."

Robert nodded in agreement, playing-off as if he had dealt with the same issue.

"But I guess that safety sling was off and there were a couple of rounds left." Angelo placed his cigarette downward onto the steel bench, twisting it until the bud stopped burning. "I dropped the gun and fled as soon as I saw blood hit the street."

He flung his cigarette onto the ground as Robert continued to listen.

"I got ID'd by two rugrats who were outside of the ice cream shop yesterday, and the pigs dragged my ass in today. So yeah, carjacking, ain't no longer worth it."

"Damn," Robert replied, almost nearly speechless. Angelo was on a whole other level, something he hasn't seen or experienced before.

He admired the guy. "So, what ya' gonna do next?"

"I'm thinking about going into loaning?" Angelo replied.

"Loaning?" Robert mimicked the same actions Angelo did with his cigarette prior.

"Yeah, it's what my old man does, giving people cash. At first, I thought it was boring, but hey—anything's better than getting convicted"

"But it comes at a price right, the loans?" Robert knew that there was no such thing as free money if so—they would have already been swimming in it.

"What doesn't," Angelo laughed at his naiveness.

"Right," Robert tried to recompose himself, "of course."

"Yo, Caruso!" Both boys looked upward as a police guard stood on the other side of the bars. "You're being let go."

"No fucking way," Robert let out with excitement.

He knew his mother couldn't leave him here for long—even with the troubles they've been having, love was something they always shared.

"Congrats buddy," Angelo held out his hand as a gesture of acceptance.

"Thanks," Robert noted as they both shook. "We should meet up sometime, maybe I can be of help with your new business."

"Sure," Angelo replied. "Just give me a year or two. I don't think I'll be out anytime soon."

The guard unlocked the bars and slid them open. "You coming or not?" He impatiently interrupted.

"Coming," Robert loosened his grip as he quickly sprung up toward the guard. The uniformed man pulled him across the threshold before sliding and locking the prison bar doors once again.

"Follow me," he said as soon as he placed his keys back on the belt holster.

The two of them walked through the crowded police station and into the lobby area where a man wearing a black suit and carrying a brown leather waited for them both.

"Here is his," the guard noted to the man, "Robert Caruso."

"Thank you, officer," the man replied.

Robert became generally confused; he didn't see his mother anywhere in the room nor did he recognize who this man was.

"Hello Robert, I'm Dan MacArthur," the man kindly introduced. "I work for the city's district attorney's office. I've been assigned your case."

"My case?" Robert internally vowed to stop fucking in public, he honestly didn't believe it was this big of a deal-no one ever talked about getting assigned a lawyer for their case.

"I don't know how to tell you this boy," Dan fought to get the words out. "I really—well I've never done this before."

He looked around and spotted two plastic seats near the water cooler.

"Let's sit," he directed.

Robert followed as they both sat down.

"Umm here it goes...," Dan said as he took a deep breath. " I'm sorry to say, your mother was found shot in her car not too far from here."

"What! Is—Is she okay?"

There was a lingering silence before Dan dropped his head down as he shook it.

"No!" It wasn't a plea of surprise nor remorse Robert did-it was one of stupidity and sheer regret.

Everything he's ever done to upset his mother seemed idiotic at this point. He should have spent more time with her, helped her out, been with her more. The hindsight of it all made the numbing feeling worse.

"They caught the young man," Dan affirmed. "There are plenty of witnesses to keep him behind bars for a long time."

The 1964 Volkswagen Bug. The stubbornness. He finally put two-and-two together: Janet was murdered by Angelo and Robert was just there having a smoke and admiring the guy.

April 4, 1977 | 9:37 AM
Robert made it his sole priority to attend every session of Angelo's hearing. Being the only forthcoming family member of the deceased, the judge granted special permission to keep Robert's identity hidden from onlookers, tabloids, and attorneys alike.

He didn't want the attention nor the sympathy—he just wanted justice.

Robert didn't gather much about the law, other than watching an episode or two of Starsky & Hutch and chatting it up with Dan MacArthur; he did, however, know the case against Angelo was as good as gold. Witnesses, a weapon, even a motive—the holy trifecta of lifetime imprisonment.

The trail escalated as four separate sessions that lasted about fifteen, twenty minutes, each.

Today was the jury deliberation and the finalized verdict announcement. The whole courtroom remained silent waiting for the honorable Judge Springer to return from his chambers.

Whispers filled the room regarding the perplexity of the situation:

"He's only a kid, not even working yet."

"I reckon it was that Ted everyone's searching for."

"I hear he's working with The Godfather of Brooklyn."

Robert didn't think much of the chatter, his mind was only anxiously waiting for an answer.

Janet, especially after Joe's departure, taught Robert to respect the law and the people who enforce it—unfortunately, it only took her murder for Robert to consider his upbringing.

He was done with all the drugs, sex, and recklessness—with his family gone, Robert pulled himself down and, based on MacArthur's recommendation, applied for a spot in the police academy.

He wanted to do something right for once, he wanted to make both his parents proud.

The chatter instantly stopped as everyone observed the judge walking back into the courtroom to take his seat.

Robert snuck a peek at Angelo, who was remaining calm and smirking as he and three other attorneys huddled up in a group.

After shuffling a few papers together, the judge let out a long-exaggerated exhale before speaking.

"After deliberating with the jury in the case against Mr. Montanari, they have found the defendant not guilty on the charges of manslaughter."

There was a calamity of cheers and boos coming from the courtroom onlookers. Angelo and his group began giving each other congratulating hugs.

Robert could only remain still, hoping the further verdict would indict Angelo for at least some time, anything at this point.

"Order, order!" The judge yelled as he continued to pound his gavel down, "I will have order in my courtroom!"

The slow noise diminished as people sat back down on their seats.

"For the charges of concealing and obtaining an unlawful weapon, this court finds you guilty Mr. Montanari. You are sentenced to seven months of imprisonment and may be eligible to apply for parole after serving five months of this sentence."

"Five months," Robert shockingly whispered to himself, "that's it?"

"Consider yourself lucky, young man." The judge complimented Angelo who was now handing over a leather briefcase to his lawyer...

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