The young high school dropout claimed that she met Laquon at six o'clock in the evening the previous Wednesday in front of a Starbucks on Broadway.

"What did you and Laquon talk about?"

"Nothin'."

"Well, how did it begin? What's the very first thing he said?"

"You know, like, he just approached me and told me he thought I was cute, and like that."

"What were you doing when he came up to you, Yolanda?"

"Nothin'."

"It was about ten degrees outside, and dark, at six o'clock last Wednesday. Why were you just standing there on the street?"

"I don't remember." Yolanda was looking at her inch-long fingernails, picking at the glitter that coated each of them in a different color.

"I'd like you to look at me when you answer me, okay? We're talking about things that happened less than a week ago," I said firmly. "I expect that you can remember them, so give it a try."

She glanced up at me and went back to rearranging the pattern on her nails. "I think I was waiting for my boyfriend to get off his shift."

"Does he work at Starbucks?"

"Yeah. He do."

"What time did he finish work?"

"I don't 'xactly know. It was supposed to be six, but when he didn't be out by a quarter after, I couldn't wait no more."

"Why was that?"

"Because of Laquon. He wanted to take me to a movie."

"How long had you two been talking before you agreed to go to the movies with Laquon?"

"'Bout ten minutes. Till I knew him good." Yolanda was scratching at the surface of her nails, sweeping the glitter that fell in her lap onto my carpet.

"What movie did you go to?"

"I don't remember."

"Where was the theater?"

"Near where we was. Broadway and Lincoln Center."

"What was the movie about?"

"Some kind of Jackie Chan action thing."

"Well, Yolanda, if you testify in court, you're going to have to tell the jury every detail about what happened from the time Laquon first started talking to you. They're not going to be too happy with 'I don't know' or 'I don't remember.' Juries and judges don't send guys to jail when you can't tell them everything that went on."

She flicked her nail at me, in disgust, and neon green glitter wafted all over my desk. "It's not my fault I fell asleep in the movie."

"That's not what Laquon says." If she could bullshit me, I could certainly bluff her, too. "He told the cop there was a different reason you two weren't watching the movie."

"Yeah, well, why you be all believin' him? What'd he say?"

"What would you guess he said?"

Yolanda started chewing on a nail. "I don't know."

"Do me a favor and sit on your hands. Stop playing with your polish and sit on your hands while we talk." I waited while she tucked her pitted nails under her substantial thighs. "What if I tell you the manager of the theater told the cops exactly the same thing Laquon said?"

She cocked an eye and stared at me. "He be lying, too." She turned to look over her shoulder.

"Don't worry. The door's closed. Your sister can't hear us. So they're both lying when they say you and Laquon were making out in the theater-that you were kissing each other and-?"

"I didn't like him like that."

"Well, how did you like him?"

"Just like a friend. An old friend."

"What time did the movie end?"

"I don't know."

"Where did you go when the movie ended?"

"I don't remember."

"Did you have anything to eat or to drink?"

"Not that I remember."

Ryan and Stewart exchanged glances. "I'm telling you, Alex. She's got total amnesia. She doesn't remember anything else until she was on the subway train," Ryan said to me. "We got three hours totally unaccounted for."

"How did Laquon explain it to the cops?"

"That after the movies, he bought a bottle of wine for eight bucks. It was too cold to hang out on the street, and neither one of them had enough money for a hotel, so they rode around on the subway, drinking and making love-well, having sex-until they got stopped."

Yolanda seemed entirely disinterested in Ryan's facts, as reported by the police officer. It was as though she had no role in Laquon's arrest and incarceration for a violent felony charge.

"Where were you going when you got on the train?" I asked.

"Home. I was cold and tired. I told him I wanted to go home."

I looked at the complaint report. "But you live uptown, Yolanda. Why were you on the downtown train?"

She looked up at the ceiling. "I'm the victim here. I don't have to be answering all these questions."

"Actually, Yolanda, you do have to answer these questions. So why don't you tell us when and how you got on the train?"

"We got on right before this happened. Laquon made me get on the subway."

"What did he do to 'make' you?"

"You know, like he dragged me by the arm and pulled me down the steps."

"Onto the platform? Wasn't anybody else there?"

"I didn't see nobody. And when the train came along, he just pulled me inside and told me to shut up." She was swinging her legs back and forth now, staring at a photograph on the wall over my computer.

"And that's when the attack happened, between Lincoln Center and Times Square, just minutes before the officer got on the train?"

"Yeah, that's it."

"Where's your pocketbook, Yolanda?"

She held up a small bag that was on a long strap, looped around her neck and across her chest.

"Why don't you open that up and empty it out on my desk?"

"Huh?"

I stood up and reached for the bag as she lifted it off.

"Do I have to do this?"

"Yes, I've asked you to empty your purse."

"First could I go to the bathroom for a minute?"

"Not until we're done."

She looked to Ryan and Stewart for help, but got none. Reluctantly, she dumped the contents of the small bag onto the desk.

I picked up the three joints that were on top and held them out in my palm.

"Damn," Yolanda said. "I bet Laquon put those there. They not mines. I swear I didn't know they was there."

"Was Laquon smoking that night?"

"Must have been. I-I-uh, I don't do no dope."

"And the box cutter?" I asked, holding up a slim metal case and pressing the release that popped out a short, lethal blade.

"I got that for protection."

"You have it with you last Wednesday?"

"Yeah, but I didn't have no time to use it. I was so scared I forget I had it."

I spread out the small scraps of paper that were wadded together. "What are these?"

"Friends. Names and numbers of my friends."

I unfolded each one and read the names of more than a dozen men. "You got any girl friends, Yolanda, or just guys? You mind if we call some of these guys and ask how you met them?"

She was getting truculent now, defiantly picking glitter off her nails and flicking it on the floor. "Do what you want. I didn't want to be here anyway."

"What time was it when you started liking Laquon better? Was it after the movie?"

"I told him," Yolanda said, pointing to Ryan, "that I never be liking him. I was afraid of him the whole time after the movie."

"So when did you stop to write down his beeper number?" I asked. "When did you draw those little hearts all around it?"

She reached over and tried to grab the paper from my hand. "That's a different Laquon. That have nothing to do with my rape."

"Ryan, why don't you ask Wanda to come on back in here?"

"You can't be telling her any of this. This is all privacy between me and the judge."

"First I'm going to see whether you told your sister the same things you're telling me. Then," I said, reaching for her Metro-Card, which was mixed in with the assorted papers, "I'm going to give this card to the police, and they're going to check a couple of things for me."

"It's mines. I bought it last month. It ain't stolen."