Redux

How could one Chandra be so Levy?—Eminem

Hippie transplant scum of a certain age may recall the media singularity that opened in Adams Morgan nearly eight years ago following the disappearance of a Washington intern.

Indeed, the impending arrest of an illegal alien for the murder of Chandra Levy brings more closure to my time here in the national capital region. Authorities plan to indict Ingmar Guandique, a 27 year-old currently serving a 10-year prison sentence for attacking two other women. As we know, the murder of the 24 year-old intern with big hair destroyed the political career of the married California congressman with whom she’d been romantically linked—and, for months, Gary Condit remained the metropolitan police department’s prime suspect.

On a late morning that spring, I approach my bus stop near 18th Street in the neighborhood. There is no Starbucks on the corner. Only a black man with no shirt, covered in dust.

“Hello, Caucasian!”

One beat.

“Good morning, Negro!”

No Starbucks on the corner, only a black man with no shirt covered in dust—and it’s suddenly quiet. No reporters. The satellite trucks withdraw from the sky, like flowers wilting in the sun. And I see a weasel—or a man—emerge from the brick building on the corner, looking askance as he darts toward a waiting SUV, an assistant standing to the side.

But the weasel, the man, stops and stares as I approach the corner. He squares his shoulders, his countenance ashen with disgust, burning with defiance.

It’s eight years ago and in my pocket I have no money and no camera phone but I raise my hand and give all that I have. I give him the finger.

Contributor's Note: Thanks to my new intern for the copy-editing advice.