Lamin
So here I sit today. November 21, 2002. I was acquitted by a jury of my peers in connection with the murder of my cousin. The jury bought Maury’s argument that the whole thing was self-defense and I walked. There was a press conference afterward, and I thanked all of my supporters. I was happy to be free, yet so sad about the state of my family, about the state of my life. Curtis was dead. I was responsible. And I would never be the same again.
The trouble didn’t end there, though. I’m still facing trial on the money-laundering charges. My mother died of AIDS in the spring of the year 2000. Grandma is holding the family together. Aunt Inez visits Curtis’ grave every Sunday, and she still won’t speak to me. Uncle Eli is still a waste. Olivia is still in love and raising pretty Adiva with Zion. We tell Adiva stories about Papa all the time.
Dream and I got divorced. I lost custody of my son, Jordan. Dream used what happened on New Year’s Eve as proof that my lifestyle was dangerous to our son. So the judge awarded her custody and gave me some bullshit visitation rights. Now, I’m seeing my son on weekends, just like she said I would. I hate her for that. I really do. I wish I never met her. To make matters worse, the bitch went on Mindy Milford’s radio show telling the tri-state area details of our sex life, our marriage, our finances, and my friendship with Zion. She’s the tackiest bitch on the planet!
Lucky will always be the love of my life. She just won’t let me love
her anymore, and I understand. She takes my calls every now and then and when I do get to talk to her, it brightens up my day every time. She moved on, and she’s doing good with her life. Papa was right. She is the one that got away.
And then there’s Zion. There is an invisible wall between us now. Zion probably feels like I left him hangin’ when the heat was on him. Now I’m the one being charged, and I see how I could have done so many things differently. It feels like Curtis is still driving a wedge between us, even though he’s dead. I feel guilty for killing him, and I think Zion feels guilty somehow, too. I believe that our friendship will weather this storm, though. At least, I hope it does.
I found out after his death that Curtis did talk to the cops and hand over evidence. Zion was right all along. Curtis was a jealous-ass snitch. I felt betrayed by a Judas in my own family. I had doubted Zion when it was Curtis I should have been watchin’. Zion has his own charges he’s facing—money laundering, conspiracy, witness tampering—plus the grand jury is deliberating about whether to charge him with Donovan’s murder. My attorney says that without Curtis’ testimony, the DA can’t build a case against either one of us in connection with what happened to Donovan. But if it comes down to it, will Zion ride with me? I ain’t too sure. Only time will tell. But I do know that I always have to keep one eye open and stay one step ahead of everyone else. That’s one of the many lessons I’ve learned on this journey called life.
I think about Papa sometimes. I remember when he was dying in the hospital. He said something to me that I didn’t understand. He told me that I needed to forgive myself. I didn’t understand it then, but I certainly get it now. I wonder if Papa knew how relevant those words would be someday. I’m beginning to forgive myself—for killing Curtis, for my bitterness toward my mother, and for letting the one that got away slip from my grasp.
Eventually, the ghosts of my past will come and haunt me again. But in the meantime, I just take it day by day. Another day, another struggle.