The cop tells him he’s under arrest for crimes against humanity and will he please come with him.

“Huh?” says Sol, real suavely. “You sure you got the right guy?”

The cop shows him the warrant. SOLOMON ARMSTRONG, it says, right at the top. 934 HUMBOLDT DRIVE. CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY.

“Huh.” He locks the door to his place and holds his wrists out. “I wish to exercise my right to remain silent.”

The cop nods and walks him over to the car. His hands, when he grabs Sol’s head to keep it from banging against the frame, are surprisingly gentle.

In the interrogation room they bluster and glare at him for a couple of hours, but he stays mum and sweats it out for his lawyer. The lawyer comes it and wants to know what he (Sol) told them (the interrogating officers).

“Nothing,” says Sol.

Bullshit, the lawyer tells him, what do you mean you (Sol) told them (the interrogating AND arresting officers) nothing? Everyone says something.

“Nothing except ‘Huh’ and that I wanted to remain silent. Not a peep else.”

“God above,” swears the lawyer. “You’re a beautiful unholy miracle, you are.”