Chapter 70. The Jailhouse Bum

ZHIVARGO

He grinned, his fat cheeks lumping with his long, thick beard. His worn clothing was another matter. His big toe almost peeked from his left, heavily soiled sneaker. Worn Nikes.

"Yes, as a matter of fact you do know me...But I'm not sure you remember me, or who I am."

I studied him once more, raking my brain. We were the only two in the cell. He had scars all over his face. His dirty-looking, wild mustache poured over his top lip. God, he stunk. In an eerie way he did look familiar. As a matter of fact, I was sure I saw him before, but where?

"I'm sorry, bruh. I don't know you."

"The State of New York versus Sin case, the year was 2009. You were the prosecutor, a crooked man that planted evidence all over my home. I had it all! Bringing in over $100,000 a month in revenue."

What was going on here? "Lionel Sin! Oh my God! I remember you now! My, my, my! I remember how lean and moneyed you were. I don't understand. I threw the book at your