The Big Bounce

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THEY WERE WATCHING Ryan beat up the Mexican crew leader on 16mm Commercial Ektachrome. Three of them in the basement room of the Holden County courthouse: the assistant county prosecutor, who had brought the film; a uniformed officer from the sheriff’s department operating the projector; and Mr. Walter Majestyk, the justice of the peace from Geneva Beach.

Right now they were watching Ryan holding the softball bat, bringing it up to his shoulder and not taking his eyes from Luis Camacho, who was beyond him on the screen, crouched and edging to the side but gradually, it seemed, closing in on Ryan.

“The guy’s doing a movie on migrant workers,” the assistant prosecutor said. “He happens to be there, he gets the whole thing.”

“There was a picture in the paper,” Mr. Majestyk said.

“The same guy. He ran out of movie film and started shooting with his Rollei.”

On the screen Ryan was moving with Camacho, following him closely; he seemed about to swing, starting to come through with it. Camacho lunged and pulled back; Ryan checked his swing and chopped, and the assistant prosecutor said, “Hold it there.”

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