The Godfather

 “The Godfather” By Mario Puzo
 
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Neri lined them up against the stone wall that closed off Central Park from Eighth 
Avenue. It was twilight, but Neri carried his favorite weapon, a huge flashlight. He never 
bothered drawing his gun; it was never necessary. His face when he was angry was so 
brutally menacing, combined with his uniform, that the usual punks were cowed. These 
were no exception. 
Neri asked the first youth in the black silk jacket, “What’s your name?” The kid answered 
with an Irish name. Neri told him, “Get off the street. I see you again tonight, I’ll crucify 
you.” He motioned with his flashlight and the youth walked quickly away. Neri followed 
the same procedure with the next two boys. He let them walk off. But the fourth boy 
gave an Italian name and smiled at Neri as if to claim some sort of kinship. Neri was 
unmistakably of Italian descent. Neri looked at this youth for a moment and asked 
superfluously, “You Italian?” The boy grinned confidently. 
Neri hit him a stunning blow on the forehead with his flashlight. The boy dropped to his 
knees. The skin and flesh of his forehead had cracked open and blood poured down his 
face. But it was strictly a flesh wound. Neri said to him harshly, “You son of a bitch, 
you’re a disgrace to the Italians. You give us all a bad name. Get on your feet.” He gave 
the youth a kick in the side, not gentle, not too hard. “Get home and stay off the street. 
Don’t ever let me catch you wearing that jacket again either. I’ll send you to the hospital. 
Now get home. You’re lucky I’m not your father.” 
Neri didn’t bother with the other two punks. He just booted their asses down the Avenue, 
telling them he didn’t want them on the street that night. 
In such encounters all was done so quickly that there was no time for a crowd to gather 
or for someone to protest his actions. Neri would get into the patrol car and his partner 
would zoom it away. Of course once in a while there would be a real hard case who 
wanted to fight and might even pull a knife. These were truly unfortunate people. Neri 
would, with awesome, quick ferocity, beat them bloody and throw them into the patrol 
car. They would be put under arrest and charged with assaulting an officer. But usually 
their case would have to wait until they were discharged from the hospital. 
Eventually Neri was transferred to the beat that held the United Nations building area, 
mainly because he had not shown his precinct sergeant the proper respect. The United 
Nations people with their diplomatic immunity parked their limousines all over the streets 
without regard to police regulations. Neri complained to the precinct and was told not to 
make waves, to just ignore it. But one night there was a whole side street that was 

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