A couple of months ago I received a phone call. “Dave, have you heard anything about Howard Pohl?” (1) I had not. “Because I heard he is very sick with something and has been out indefinitely.” We commiserated together and I asked if my friend knew what hospital Mr. Pohl was in (Based on our conversation it sounded like whatever it was was serious enough to require hospitalization.). He did not. That was the substance of the conversation.
Sometime a little after that I ran into a person who works at the State Attorney’s Office and she also asked if I knew what was wrong with Mr. Pohl (I still did not). She had no idea and told me that the administration was being unusually tight-lipped even for them about the situation. I asked who was taking over Mr. Pohl’s responsibilities and she replied that Ted Manelli had agreed to come back part-time to help out. (2)
Recently I whisked by a prosecutor-friend in the hallways of the courthouse. “Hey.” “Hey.” “Good.” "Good.” Guys talk like that when they whisk. But this time we paused and came to a complete stop (Guys are often lost for additional conversational topics at these moments.). I reached into my vast repertoire of Topics of Conversation and pulled out a sure-fire winner: “How’s the money situation in the Office? (Such situation being the favorite subject of conversation of government employees, and the second favorite, and the third, and fourth.) “Tight. We’re really short-staffed.” (The money situation has been tight and the office has been short-staffed for twenty-eight years at least).
As my sure-fire winner Topic of Conversation was now exhausted and I felt my social anxiety begin to kick in and my mind begin to wander (A.D.D.) I again reached into my bag and asked “How’s Howard, I heard he was sick?” He gave me a look of “Are you a complete mo-ron,” and said, “Where have you been, David?” (this was said sotto voce with his face substantially closer to mine than when we were saying “Hey.” “Hey.” “Good.” “Good.”) Although I have been quite a number of places I knew that’s not what my friend meant (I’m intuitive like that) and so didn’t respond (verbally at least, maybe my face gave away “Lost.”). “They got rid of him.” My attention was now focused as a laser beam (Adderall). “Why, I thought…” “That’s what they’re putting out there. He was ‘inappropriate’ (his word and he did the “in quotes” hand gestures) with a girl…” At this point I interrupted and said “underling?” and my friend said, “Yeah, an underling.” That was an ambiguous word choice on my part because “underling” could mean a junior fellow prosecutor or a support staff member (not that it makes a difference). "Who took his place?" I asked. "Chet Zerlin." (3)
