Chapter Twenty Six
Dead Right
A frantic 911 call came into the police dispatcher. Squad cars from the 47th precinct and the housing police responded with the quickness to the call. Mike Copeland was the prime suspect and he was considered armed and dangerous.
Cops swarmed the projects on foot. There was a police helicopter hovering overhead. The building Mike Copeland resided was where the police concentrated their main effort. They stood outside in assembly then they rushed upstairs with weapons drawn.
A battering ram smashed through the apartment door of Mike’s grandmother. Seconds later, dozens of New York City’s finest entered the apartment with their guns at the ready. The sight of the officers nearly caused the elderly woman a heart attack. Knowing his grandmother had a pre existing heart condition, Mike surrendered. The police threw theshackles on Mike in a hot second. He was taken downstairs to where a fleet of squad cars were parked. Scared and watchful eyes recorded the moment when the cops took Mike Copeland out of the projects.
“You have the right to remain silent… Anything you say or do can be used against you in a court of law…” the arresting officer said, serving notice on Mike Copeland.
“Save that bullshit! I ain’t tryin’ a hear that! I’m innocent!”
“Hey Tommy, I think we caught a real tough guy…” one of the cops said.
“Funny, but he don’t look that tough to me,” Tommy said, smiling.
They led Mike Copeland to a parked car. Before they shoved him inside, one of the arresting officers leaned over to Mike.
“Hey Mike, take one last look at these projects. By the time you get out… Provided that you do get out, the projects will be all condos…”
Laughter erupted and they shoved Mike Copeland into the backseat of a squad car. They packed up equipment and although a few remained, most of the officers instantly exited the projects.
All the commotion from the heavy police presence had many residents watching closely. They gathered by the dozens. Nashawn was amongst them. Puffing on a cigarette, he was grinning from ear to ear.
“Ha! Ha! Mike Copeland got arrested. Good for that nigga! Y’all know what that means… This whole fuckin’ projects belongs to me!” Nashawn loudly proclaimed.
It was fifteen minutes later when Melquan entered the projects. He had purposely taken his time after being notified of Mike’s arrest by one of the workers. There was nothing he could do for Mike at the moment. People were still up talking about the raid by the cop’s on Mike’s grandmother’s apartment. The police showing up in great numbers would be the talk of the projects for some time.
“It was like they brought da whole four-seven. Yo Melquan, cops were up in here like roaches. I don’t know how or why Mike ended up in his grandma’s crib. Why that nigga just ain’t bounce up outta Dodge is beyond me,” a worker reported.
“Did he say anything when they bought him out…?” Melquan asked.
“You know Mike? He was spazin’ on da cops. He went out like a soldier,” another said.
Melquan heard the taunting behind him when he turned to walk away. There was no need to panic he had the strap on him. Melquan listened to Nashawn shouting over his shoulder without looking back.
“It’s over, nigga! Ya finished muthafucka! It’s my turn to rock now!” Nashawn shouted above the buzzing crowd. “I’m gon’ make my run, hope ya lil’ niggas had ya fun!”
Very nonchalantly Melquan pulled one of his workers to the side and whispered in his ear.
“Go git that,” he ordered.
