I had passed their medical and emotional tests with brilliance. I had been interviewed by several Detectives, including a Behavioral Unit shrink who was convinced I may be the missing link or ex-lover to Cunanan. Please. I'm not THAT sick.

I had been charged with bodily injury and intent, learning several people from the Mocha Daze gang had pressed charges. However, the person who rallied against me the most, helping the police with the pieces of my past, was actually the one person who was the closest- my father. Who was no longer a man but a...? And they're calling ME sick?

They moved me from my holding cell, saying I had a visitor. I knew it couldn't be my lawyer Jake since we had just spoken that morning.

As I sat down in the row of small windows where prisoners faced their loved ones, I saw my father in front of me- wearing make-up and a full wig. He did look different, and yet what gave him away were his eyes. They can do plastic surgery everywhere but the eyes never lie.

They were my father's dark browns and they were filled with tears. How could I make sense of this? How could my family be anymore fucked up? I couldn't look at him.

"I'm right here, Steve."

I refused, waiting for this to be over.

"You can leave anytime, son." He said.

I couldn't look at him but I didn't want to leave either.

"I want you to know I'm pressing charges to the fullest extent of the law. You attempted murder, son, and I'm not so sure that's all you've done."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What happened to Barbra?"

"Exactly, what happened to her? What happened to our lives? I snapped Dad, and you know why I snapped? Because of this fucked up family."

"This has nothing to do with your family."

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Keep lying to yourself. You won't help me here because on one level you're ashamed. Not of me, but ashamed of who you are- who you became. Better to just put me away than have to remember what or who you are- a man."

"I will never forget who I was. But I'm still the same person you knew, only more comfortable in being a woman. Yes, a woman. I don't expect you to understand that, but I expect courtesy and respect."

I still couldn't look at this transvestite freak.

He leaned in closer to me. "I know you killed Barbra."

"And how do you know that?"

"They got a tip about a hired hit man."

"Bullshit."

"They think you're guilty of murder." Either he was bluffing, or they really had something on me.

"This is my first offense," I said. "Emotional stress is what my attorney claims. Dan White got off on a Twinkie defense and he actually committed the murder of Harvey Milk. I wasn't going to pull the trigger, I was only going to scare everyone."

"It was a real gun with real bullets. You were going to kill, Steve."

How could I admit that to anyone? The bottom line, I could see the desperation in Hillary's face. She was scared, so were a lot of people. But there was nothing really solid to hold me. Not yet, anyway.

It was only a matter of time before I would be released. And then I could finish what I started, slowly, one by one, one puddle of blood at a time.