Hard White

In the aftermath of the shooting, Melquan played everyone like they were the enemy. New York City was a big place, and it seemed like he used every inch of it to stay a step ahead of the police. Living out of different fleabag motels, every night Melquan was hiding out in a different borough.

His first order of business was to trade in the Ranger Rover for a black Honda Accord. Melquan completely stopped visiting Edenwald projects. Even though he had severed several ties, the thought of an innocent little girl dying didn’t sit well with him.

It ate at his conscious and kept him up nights. One day after another sleepless night, Melquan decided to give a call to the only person he knew for sure was still in his corner, Charlie Rock. Secretly they set up a meeting place in a desolate area near Sousa Woods.

When Charlie Rock rolled into the park, Melquan let him wait before he somberly appeared. He had to make sure Charlie Rock wasn’t being followed.

“You lookin’ stressed out nephew. You look like a beaten man,” Charlie Rock said. “You can’t keep sweatin’ da details.”

“I feel like I’m beaten, Unk. To tell you the truth, I don’t know if it was me that killed the little girl. But Unk, I really feel fucked over it. I feel so terrible, I can’t even sleep, Unk. I wanna call her people. You know…? Apologize. Think they’ll accept it, Unk?”

“Anything can be forgiven, nephew. But not that... There’s nothing you can do to bring that little girl back. Her father wants blood, nephew. He wants both parties responsible for his daughter’s death, dead!” Charlie Rock solemnly stated.

Melquan’s attention was drawn in by the seriousness of Charlie Rock’s voice. He immediately stared at the man in the wheelchair. It dawned on him that he had no wins, the world was against him. Charlie Rock’s words of wisdom became priceless and Melquan listened.

“Yo nephew, there’s so much gunplay in the game now. Your generation has taken shit to the extreme. This game was never intended to be that way. Ain’t none of this shit worth dyin’ or killin’ for. You do what you got to do to survive. You get in and get out. That’s how it used to be.”

Melquan continued listening to Charlie Rock. It was clear that he was feeling the weight of the wise man’s lessons. A silence fell between the two men.

“He still runnin’ and duckin’ like you. But I gotta number for him from one of them lil’ broads he fuck with.”

“Yessir, got it right here fa ya, my nephew,” Charlie Rock said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a small piece of paper. “The first number up there is Nashawn’s. And you already know who the other one belongs to…” Charlie Rock continued, handing the piece of paper to Melquan.

Melquan stared at the numbers, and his burden already felt like they were being lifted. He glanced at Charlie Rock with hope in his eyes and said, “Tell me Unk, you think I got a good shot at makin’ this work?”

Charlie Rock paused for a couple beats before giving an answer. Melquan was anxiously awaiting his answer.

“I’m a keep it real with ya nephew. I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot. Any position is better than the one you’re in.”

“No problem my nephew, you been always good to me and treated me with much respect. Watch yourself, nephew. Stay low,” Charlie Rock said.

Nothing can ignite a neighborhood’s sense of community than the lost of innocent lives. Over the past few months, the body count had been steadily rising in the northeast Bronx. It took the reckless killing of a thirteen year girl named Maria, to galvanize not only the residents, but community activists and politicians. They came from all angles, those with genuine interest in helping the neighborhood, and those pushing their own agenda.

In a noisy session outside and inside, they met with the precinct commander, clamoring for help in the Edenwald community center.

“Captain, you mean to tell me that your police precinct is right across the street from the projects. Yet you and your men cannot provide adequate protection for our community?” an activist asked.

“Is it because it’s a poor community? I mean, a thirteen year old girl, on her way home from school was gunned down a few days ago. Yet there no arrests have been made. What is going on with our police protection? This wouldn’t happen in any other neighborhood but a minority one. Everyday there is more and more killings and nothing is being done by our friendly neighborhood cops.”

“We’re working hard to protect and serve…” the captain started to say, and again he was rudely interrupted by another activist.

“There have been just too many killings in Edenwald projects lately. And nothing seems to be getting done. Captain, I’m here to say that the community will no longer tolerate the Keystone Cops attitude of your men. We demand action now!”

There was round of applause greeting the activist. Residents endorsing the sentiments shouted encouragements to the speaker. The captain stood with a cynical look on his face. He did not speak until after the applause had died down.

“Sir, I’ll have you know that I have detectives at this very moment combing the housing projects for potential witnesses. We must get cooperation from the citizens of the community who have information regarding any of the shootings. But it is a difficult process because of how your community feels about informants. I know like you know that someone saw something. We’re hoping and waiting for a concerned citizen to stand up, and be willing to testify in a court of law.”

A chorus of boos enveloped the room. Their displeasure was directed at the reference to the informant’s role in a court of law. The police captain continued.

“We have one individual in custody and have interest in certain individuals. Due to the nature of the ongoing investigation, I cannot, at this time, disclose anything about the investigation. But trust me we’re doing the best under the current circumstances.”

“The problem is we can’t trust the police, captain. You don’t have such a great record working with the community,” the activist shouted.

“But Edenwald has been largely ignored by all. The community has been not only been overlooked but also under policed by the powers that be for decades. It’s time we take matters in our hands” the activist said.

The meeting ended in an uproar, but the politicians and activists were able to gather the hundred or so residents together. They led them in a protest demonstration, marching through the streets, chanting, “Down with dope… Up with hope! Drug dealer, drug dealer you can’t hide. You just committing… Genocide...”

There they burned candles for shooting victims. Some carried photos of Maria, and others held up signs of protest.