Noted last night in real time on my Blackberry

Sitting inside the plate glass window of a cafe. Two men come in, one younger, maybe 25, and one older, about 45. They order coffee (”Latte?” “What do you mean latte? I want real coffee”) and take it to an outdoor table to drink.

20 minutes later

Two police officers, long guns slung over their shoulders, approach them. Subconsciously, I assume they know each other, this policeman and this older member of the coffee drinkers, and are having a chat.

Eventually, my eye is caught by the body language being projected through the storefront window beside which I sit. They are standing there too long, they are not smiling. The men at the table grow more serious. Another man is waved forward; he is accusing them of something. The police ask for an explanation. The two at the table are shaking their heads, making controlled little hand gestures; they are denying something. They are amused, then taken aback, then angry. The third man is drawn aside by the tall policeman. He is wearing a red hard hat, and lights up a cigarette. The younger man keeps talking to the policewoman, pointing at his cup of coffee emphatically. He seems to be saying that he has been here, drinking coffee, the whole time. He gets more agitated. The older man (his father? No — the relationship doesn’t fit. Maybe an uncle?) keeps trying to hold him back, calm him down. He gets up yelling. The policeman (and he is really big) starts to close in tighter. He’s in the young man’s personal space. He exudes menace. He’s got out handcuffs now. They walk the young man away, but he’s getting worked up again. He’s offended and angry. He’s wrestled to the ground, on his knees, his head pressed down low, handcuffed, hoisted back to his feet. The uncle (?) stands right next to them, looking helpless, and afraid to interfere any more.

Without hearing a word, I admit, I don’t think the police needed to be so aggressive. The young guy was so obviously upset, but also not about to jump on anyone. It was almost as if they were looking for him to get angry enough to justify physical restraint tactics. My sense is that if they had asked him to come with them for questioning, he would have.

Who were these people? The accuser in the red hard hat, still quietly smoking his cigarette? The slight policewoman, ducking behind her partner? The religious and supportive but impotent uncle? The open-looking young man with contradictory clothing? The intimidating officer?

What are their stories? What chapter are they writing at this moment?

30 minutes later

Sequel: The “uncle” just came back… to pay for the two cups of coffee. Mi keAmcha Yisrael. His honesty inspires. Perhaps they are at the police station just two blocks away?

Was he trying to help out his young friend without realizing what he was up to? Was he in the dark completely — maybe the young man was in a hit-and-run on his way over? Was the whole thing a mistake? I’ll never know.

I watch him walk away in the rain.

The picture? Their table, as they left it. Never did get a chance to finish the coffee.