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Obviously the priest was a bit more experienced with society fundraisers than with street kids. He swallowed his distaste at the youngster's hostility. "I understand that there are accusations of abuse," he said "however, that is a matter for the authorities, not for you or I. In the meantime, the children obviously need food and shelter, medical attention and other support that you cannot give them." The priest was a bit oily for me. His puffy complexion, twitchy, mechanical eyes and devious manner smelled of manipulation and self interest. "My God boy," he continued. "several people have died, this is not a playground situation."

"You wouldn't last two days on my playground old man." The kid's upper lip curled in disdain. "The `authorities' had dere chance man. What they do, huh. I tell you what the `authorities' do. Nothin'! They lock the kids up, they talk bullshit, then they give up the kids to the grumps. The kids end up dead." He arched one eye and pointed his finger accusingly. "I told you to listen popeman, It's over," He leaned over the table and into the priest's face. "You `grumps' ain't gonna run things no more. You don't tell us what to do."

"Then call off the cops, let the kids downtown go and leave us alone. If you wanna help...help. Don't try to run things." His voice got less harsh. "Somma the kids got hurt. They need help but they'd rather die than go back to the grumps." He sounded worried. "You gotta do this my way. They'll know if I come back with the cops."

For the first time, he let down his macho veneer. He was almost begging. "You gotta understand. I ain't the boss. I don't even understand all this. But they got their ways of knowin' things. They ain't the same kids they was before. They're changin'...my little brothers..." His eyes clouded over for a second "...they know things, they see things..." His face shut down again. The chip dropped back onto his shoulder. "But some of them are hurt. You gonna help or what?"