Thetech handed me a wig to cover my bald head. It was long; more like whata girl would wear, but at least it would conceal my bald head.Carla made me...sleep on the couch the next two nights as we waited for myfacemask to be built. Then she and I returned to the orthopedic shop forwhat they called my final fitting. We were escorted into the same roomwhere the rubber mold was made and I once more sat in the chair. Iwasn't strapped in this time. I could see my facemask or helmet sittingon a. I kept mymouth shut all the way to the police station, where I was escortedroughly out of the car, through the door and down a long, dark hall.I honestly don't remember everything that happened to me that night, butsome of it is seared in my memory. After I was lined up for my bookingphoto, one of the cops tore off my wig, and the pictures of me in tearswith a man's made-up face were on the front page of every newspaper inChicago the next morning. The worst was yet to come: after I. More

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