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new with you?”
    â€œI quit smoking.” Saia was a guy who worked out with a pack of cigarettes, a hard-core nonfiltered Camel addict who’d been known to keep two cigarettes burning at once. I checked his desk and saw no overflowing ashtrays or smoking butts. “You too?” Was that a side effect of being involved with a law clerk?
    â€œ Naah. They turned this into a nonsmoking office, so now I have to go outside. Bad thing to do to a public servant. It could be enough to send me into private practice.” That was one change I didn’t think Saia would ever make; this man was born to prosecute. “How’s your life going?”
    â€œGood. I bought a house.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œIn the North Valley.”
    â€œYeah?” He rubbed his fingers together in the universal gesture of money and greed. The North Valley is one of Albuquerque’s more affluent neighborhoods, but not the street that I live on.
    â€œNot that part of the Valley,” I said.
    â€œWhere is it?”
    â€œOn Mirador east of Fourth.”
    â€œThere was a shooting in that neighborhood recently, a kid named Juan Padilla.”
    â€œSo I hear.”
    â€œIs this the visit of a concerned citizen?” He knew I didn’t stop by just to shoot the shit.
    â€œNot exactly.”
    â€œAnything you want to tell me about Juan Padilla’s death? You know something I don’t?”
    â€œWhat do you know?”
    â€œWe have a witness who ID’d the shooter as Ron Cade, a member of a Heights gang.” That was no revelation; it had been all over the news.
    â€œYour witness is reliable?”
    â€œHe gave the police a very accurate description of the shooter.”
    If he was thinking the same thing I was—that the witness’s description might be too accurate—he gave no indication. “The sketch was very close to Ron Cade’s photo,” I said.
    â€œThere was a strong resemblance. It was either Cade or his evil twin,” Saia agreed. “The police artist does good work.”
    â€œWhat’s your witness’s name?”
    â€œI’d rather not give it out until I have to. He’s a juvenile. There’s always the danger of gang retaliation.”
    â€œIs he a gang member?” That would make any witness less credible in my book.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThe witness didn’t see anybody but Cade?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œAnd you believe Ron Cade acted alone?” In my experience teenagers joined gangs because they didn’t like to act alone.
    â€œ That’s what the witness said.”
    â€œThat’ll make it easier for you guys. Only one perp to track down.”
    â€œUnless Padilla’s gang gets to him first. Their system of justice is swift and effective. Ours?” He threw up his hands.
    â€œAre you ever tempted just to stay out of the way and let them duke it out?”
    â€œIt would save the taxpayers some money,” Saia said. “A Four O shoots Ron Cade in retaliation for Juan Padilla’s death, which was probably in retaliation for some other gang member’s death. Then a Heights Highlifer has to kill a Four O in retaliation for Ron Cade. Once the killers are dead we turn them into heroes. That’s the American way. Trouble is, a gang-banger’s idea of justice can be to drive down the street shooting at anyone wearing the wrong color. We’re not always right either, but we do put more effort into our justice than they put into theirs.”
    â€œThis state has a lingering admiration for Billy the Kid.”
    â€œHero worship is more like it. If you ask me, he was New Mexico’s original gangbanger. This is a great country, isn’t it? We give children TV and teenagers automatic weapons. Prison is our only deterrent, but that’s no threat—their friends and family are already there. Civilization is a thin veneer. All it takes is one tear in the social fabric and