I don't give a fuck about jail. This is my business. This is what I do

Pasquale DeCarlo stared into space as the district attorney gave his closing arguments. His face was impassive betraying nothing of concern or sadness or anger or any inkling of his possible feeling. It was a zen like state which he had perfected over the years from dealing with policemen. When they would ask you questions and in the old days beat the shit out of you if you didn't answer. Still Pasquale knew the gist of what the District Attorney was saying. Knew that basically it entaile that he was fucked and bound to go to prison for a very long amount of time. He knew the District Attorney for a long time. As a kid he had been raised in the same neighborhood that Pasquale had run. The District Attorney's father had steered the boy away from Pasquale and his haunts and Pasquale had understood. The father had wanted something better for his son than a life of crime and deceit. Pasquale had even respected this. But for him a life of crime and deceit was the only life imaginable. The state had a good case, well founded, with alot of evidence he had already started to realize this. Just a few years ago it seemed, this whole matter could have been cleared off by paying off the local police department, but times had changed. It was no longer a matter of local police departments but large governmental bodies which had turned they're collective eye towards organized crime. Pasquale pondered to himself wether he thought he had done wrong. In his mind he had done only the things nessacary to mantain and hold unto his power. All of the casualties had had caused as a result of this had been inflicted upon men who knew the rules of the road. Who were a part of the system. He had given the arrested officer nothing but his full name and his mother's adress and that was it. If they were looking for a snitch they had come to the wrong place. He would rather face the longest sentence possible than snitch on his worst enemy. In his mind it was the worst thing a man could possibly be. Pasquale watched as the District Attorney finished his closing arguments. His lawyer stood up and prepared to offer the defense. He knew the effort was most likely fruitless but he had not said this yet to his lawyer. He had wondered sometimes what would happen if someone just came into court on a serious crime and just said 'I am guilty I am a bad man and I deserve this.' Perhaps the honesty itself would floor the jury. It would likely be a long trial Pasquale thought to himself, spanning a long career. He wondered how long it would take and how he had gotten to arrive here..