My shoulder throbbed, then spilled blood with every beat of my heart. I’d watched enough episodes of The First 48, to know the protocol of a murder scene. Find out if there are any other shooting victims. Question them. Hold them. I almost lost consciousness twice while on the highway headed to the Burlington hospital. The nurses asked me a thousand questions, the doctors simply barked out orders. I’d lost a lot of blood. I told them I was at Burlington Coat Factory about to head in and shop, when a car full of dudes rode by and shot out the window, hitting me once in the shoulder. I had an I.V. in my arm and a tube pushed down the head of my dick. They said I was fine but that the bullet had shattered my collarbone, which was probably where the majority of the pain was coming from. They asked if I had anyone I wanted them to contact and I gave them Monique’s number. The morphine drip they gave me was starting to take its toll, as I drifted off thinking of the events that led me to Burlington Hospitals Trauma Unit.
Crackheads know no loyalty. Their loyalty stays true to only one thing. CRACK! I was spreading crack all over the Bull City with the message that I had an ounce of “hard white,” for anyone with the information that would lead me to Big Joe. The nigga was good though. He hardly ever showed his face in the daylight, and he kept a few heads on the payroll himself. One of em was Luke. One night I’d ran into a stripper bitch named Sasha, who used to be a correctional officer at the Durham County Jail; until she fucked up and fell for a smooth-talking nigga named Pete, who at the time was in jail for Trafficking Heroin. Pete got off on a technicality and he and Sasha became an item. What Sasha didn’t know at the time though, was that Pete was nothing more than a crack smoking run boy that had gotten caught holding somebody else’s package. Sasha, after being busted smuggling cell phones to inmates at $200 a pop to support the powder cocaine habit that Pete had helped her to acquire, lost her job, then turned to her first available moneymaker. Stripping. Soon after, Sasha got rid of Pete, after finally realizing that he was nothing more than a leaching crackhead, and not the big-time hustler that he had claimed. She’d grown tired of shaking her ass and selling pussy all night, just to have him waiting for her money to get high when she got home in the mornings. She’d never lost her coke bottle shape like most chics who get strung out on “soft.” Her ass stayed phat and her titties stayed plump, not to mention she had the best head in East Durham! A true toe curler. Even “hoodrich” niggas would scoop her up and slide off to a hotel room in the cut for couple days. Everybody knew Sasha, and Sasha knew everybody. On this day in particular, I was out driving a green Nissan Maxima that I’d rented from a head for two grams. Cruising through East Durham I’d spotted Sasha jumping out of a Black F-150 in front of Brothers III strip club. It was late and I thought, “What the hell.” Might as well get my dick sucked before I take it in. I eased the Maxima up beside Sasha and rolled down the window. She was obviously startled at first, but upon seeing my face, she lit up like a New York night!
“Hey Banks! I been looking for you!” She yelled as she ran around to the passenger side and opened the door to get in. “I seen that nigga Big Joe!” Sasha shouted as she closed the door behind her. My blood ran cold and instantly my mood changed. This was the motherfuckin
faggot that had put a pistol to my head, smacked up my girl, then finger fucked her right in front of me! He had to know that this beef wont over!
“Where you see him at?” I asked trying to hold down my anger.
“You still paying aint you?”
“I might be. But right now, I wanna know where you saw this nigga at?” I spoke seriously as I slid my hand away from my lap so she could see the snub nosed .38 that rested there. At the sight of my gun, Sasha’s eyes almost jumped from her skull! And suddenly, I couldn’t stop this bitch from talking! I wasn’t gonna shoot her. But I had to let her know that I won’t playing no games and didn’t have the patience for no bullshit. This shit was serious! She told me she’d spotted Big Joe dropping Luke off at a trap spot in Braggtown. She said Luke sold dope for Big Joe outta the spot. She’d been inside twice tricking with Big Joe’s partner Ish. “I know you don’t think I’m giving you no ounce for that do you?”
“Oh, nah Banks you don’t owe me nothing. I just wanna help out.” Her voice trembled as she looked from me, to the pistol in my lap, back to me.
“You ain’t gotta be scared of me Sasha. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” I reassured her with a laugh.
“Whew! Damn! Thank God!” She let out a deep breath while wiping the sweat from her forehead. “I still need something though Banks. You got something? I know you probably don’t be fuckin with this small stuff but I got a hundred.” Sasha produced a crispy big faced Benjamin from her bra. On any other occasion, I would never be riding around with work. But it just so happened, that earlier in the day, a nigga that I’ll just call Tuck, had called me saying he wanted to cop seven grams. I figured I’d slide through Hoover Road, pick that lil change up, then ride through the East on my way to the crib. But when I got to Hoover Road projects with the work, the nigga was a hundred dollars short. I would have given the nigga the shit, then told him to just hit me with the yard later, but this was the second time in a row he was pulling this shit. So, I left his ass with nothing. I took the Benjamin from Sasha’s hand, looked at it and handed it back. “Please Banks it’s all I got,” she begged with sadness.
Reaching into the console I pulled out the seven grams, turned off Holloway Street onto Spruce, and put the car in park. Sasha’s eyes stayed glued to the coke. “How good can you suck my dick for this?” I smiled, Sasha smiled back, and in a flash had my dick and balls out, moaning and groaning as she licked and sucked me to a fast and furious nutt! Pressing my feet into the floorboard and grabbing onto the armrest, I almost whimpered as I shot ropes of hot sperm down her throat! When she knew that I was drained, she kissed the head and looked up at me smiling.
“Was that good?” She asked with devilish sarcasm. I threw the coke in her lap and opened the door for her to get out.
“Great.”
That was last night. To hear that Luke was there in the projects with Hood and Shell, set off alarms in my head. If Big Joe had plenty of heroin, what the hell was Luke doing in McDougald Terrace. One thing I know about dopefiends; company is something they definitely don’t seek out. I didn’t find out until later, in bits and pieces, exactly what happened. Luke had helped pull off one of the oldest robbery tricks in the game. Only this time, it wasn’t a robbery that was set in motion. After Keisha had opened the door to let Luke in and walked away, Luke had come in and shut the door, but only pretended to lock it behind him. Shell and Hood were so doped up they didn’t even notice. Big Joe and Ish were waiting outside. The plan was for Luke to go in and have a look around. If Shell was there with Hood, Luke was to stay inside the apartment. If Shell wasn’t there, then Luke was to make up any excuse he could think of and come directly back out. When Luke went in and didn’t reappear, Big Joe knew it was on. Easing down the side of the building, he and Ish had slid into the apartment’s back door, encountering Hood and Shell just as they’d hoped. Nodding and slipping. It all went down within a matter of seconds. Hood was the first to catch a smack upside his head with the chrome .40 caliber Ish carried! “CLOP!!!” The smack sounded off as blood spilled from the knot on his head instantaneously! By the time that Shell went to reach for his gun, Big Joe was all over him, pistol whipping him unmercifully! Keisha, who was upstairs putting a clear coat of toenail polish on her feet just before she was to run out to the store and meet me to get fucked, was startled by all the commotion and got up to investigate. Just as she descended the stairs she bared witness to Big Joe, letting off an explosive round from his snub nosed .44 Magnum! “BOOOOMM!!!” Hood lay on the floor bleeding and begging, as Joe proceeded to drag a beaten and shot Shell out the backdoor! Luke was nowhere to be found. Now, the realization that Big Joe could have killed Shell right there in the apartment without taking him outside, made me think of two possibilities. Either he was bringing him outside to kill him in front of everyone, to try and make a foolish example, or he was attempting to kidnap him, take him somewhere secluded, and make sure he died a slow, agonizing death. The second possibility made more sense. At around this exact time, I was diving out of my BMW gun in hand, racing to the apartment just as Big Joe was backing out of the door dragging a weakened and wounded Shell! I rounded the corner just in time to lock eyes with Big Joe! He carried a large chrome pistol in one hand and a bloody ass Shell in the other. Instantly I let off two rounds! “BOOM! BOOM!” My Desert Eagle had kick, but not enough to make me land on my back as hard as I did. For a second, I was disoriented. I was thirsty and my ears were ringing. I’d never wanted something cold to drink that bad in my life! I realized then that I’d been shot, but knew I didn’t have time to survey the wound. That would have to wait. I was still alive. Gritting my teeth through the pain, I pushed up to my feet and stumbled over to where Shell and Big Joe lay. Both of them were staring up at me, although the fist sized hole that was leaking brain and blood, on the side of Big Joe’s head, let me know that he was only looking through me into the afterlife. One of my bullets had found its mark. Shell looked up with fear and desperation in his eyes as he held his bleeding side. Ish had taken off running, firing backwards without looking back. That’s how Shell go shot in his side. He’d actually been shot in the back by a fleeing Ish, and the bullet had exited through his side. Keisha stood on the back porch screaming, before Hood limped out holding his head, screaming even louder than Keisha. I’d already told Keisha to dial 911, although I doubt it was necessary; by the large amount of onlookers, who were checking out the action. I could hear the sirens coming, and in what seemed like a matter of
seconds, they were there. I had to get outta there! I’d been shot! I was a victim, and a suspect. Justine called out to me, and I hauled ass up outta there!
Now here I sit. Bandaged up in the fuckin hospital with a tube down my dick!
“Baby! Oh no, baby!” Monique burst into the room with a chubby white nurse hot on her heels! She was becoming hysterical so I reached up and grabbed her arm.
“Monique!” She calmed just enough for me to speak. “Chill. I’m good. I’m fine.” I spoke calmly but firm.
“Baby you bleeding. What happened?” Monique still whined, as tears ran like a river down her face.
“That niggas dead.” I stated as Monique stared at me with fear and confusion etched onto her face. The nurse had retreated from the room after I waved her away.
“What nigga baby?”
“Big Joe.” I looked at her and tried to read her expression. “I killed him. He’s dead.” I said with more venom, than I’d intended. Monique reached up and gently touched the bandage where my bullet wound was. I don’t know how she felt, but I know how I did. Like an explosive orgasm had just been achieved. Satisfied!
Four days later I was in the Durham Police Departments interrogation room at their main Chapel Hill St. Headquarters. Although police do only check for other shooting victims at the scene and in the area, they also check a sixty - mile radius. Had this been a Friday or Saturday night, there probably would have been at least a dozen shooting incidents in the Bull City alone. But as my luck would have it, this particular homicide happened on a Tuesday evening around two-thirty. There was only one other shooting within a sixty - mile radius around that time, and that was a woman who’d shot her husband in the ass, after catching him coming out of a hotel in Cary with her niece. So here I sit. Keisha called and informed me that the homicide detectives had questioned her and Hood, and that in their questioning, they’d several times mentioned my name. They’d mentioned my name in the same sentence with Big Joe, and murder. I don’t know how the fuck they knew my mom’s address, but they’d been by there several times in a 24-hour span, and had a car sitting across the street from her house, up until this evening when I came in with my lawyer Lauryn Laddell. Lauryn was short, thick, and beautiful. And she was white. She was the most sought after lawyer in Robeson County. She also kept a baby soft, clean shaven pussy that tasted like strawberries. She looked like the epitome of a force to be reckoned with, in her Vera Wane pantsuit, Gucci heels, and Chanel “don’t fuck with me” eyeglasses. My grandmother lived in Robeson County. Lumberton to be exact. Every year, no matter what, I visited her at Easter. We went to church, and then ate a huge home cooked dinner. It was tradition. This past Easter I was visiting, and my grandmother wanted to go play Bingo. The drive to Fayetteville where she wanted to play, was at least an hour away. So, I figured I might as well find something to do for the two hours I’d be waiting for her to finish playing. Directly across the street from the Bingo parlor, I noticed a place called Mr. Bills’ workout and Fitness Center. I had some sneakers and basketball shorts in the trunk, and decided I’d go shoot some jumpers to kill some time. I could see the full court that Mr. Bills possessed through its glassed window. There was only one other person in the gym when I paid my ten dollars and went in. It was a white chic shooting free throws. I walked to the opposite end of the court and began practicing my jump shot. I was working up a pretty good sweat when the white chic came jogging down to my end bouncing a basketball.
“Wanna play one?” She asked with a smile.
“Play what?” I asked, just now noticing that this white girl was fire! She was dressed in a pink Nike shorts set, with pink and white Air Maxes. Her short blond haircut reminded me of the singer Pink, only this chic had a body like a black chic!
“What you mean play what? You think your games all that?” She smiled again as she ran past me, smacked me on the ass, and laid the ball up. Yeah. I definitely was about to let her back me down in the paint! She actually had a decent game. For a white lady. She told me she’d started point guard at South Carolina, until she ruptured her Achilles her sophomore year and left the team. She was a lawyer. After Law school, she’d worked two years for the District Attorney’s office before going into private practice for herself. Now District Attorneys feared her. She was thorough. The best that money could buy. If there was a crack or a crease, anywhere in a case, she’d find it and capitalize. She didn’t have a man and that was surprising. Being that she looked delicious, was only twenty- nine years old, and had money as long as trains smoke. I didn’t ask her any questions though. I figured if she wanted me to know something she’d tell me. Just like she was telling everything else about herself. We kicked it for a while and clicked instantly. I’d never fucked with a white chic before, and definitely not a lawyer! Later that night, I fucked Monique to sleep, and left her in our room at the Sheraton to go meet up with Lauryn the lady lawyer. Her house was huge! When I pulled up to the address that Lauryn had given me, I parked right behind her pearl white convertible Porsche, walked up to the front door prepared to ring the bell, and was met by a ferocious, ass naked lady lawyer! I hadn’t even closed the door before she had her tongue down my throat and her hands tugging at my belt! She was having a little trouble so becoming frustrated, she fell to her knees in front of me to get at my dick! “Oooooh! Look at that cock! It’s so big! Oooh that’s beautiful!” She grabbed my thick nine inches and examined it like a priceless piece of jewelry, just before kissing it all over, and then attempting to deep throat it! This chic was a beast! She pulled me down to the carpet with her and in one swift motion, spun around throwing her leg across my body, leveling us into the sixty - nine position! Her pussy was clean shaven and looked like a ripe Georgia peach. Now, right here is where most of ya’ll broads is saying, “This nigga ain’t shit. He bout to eat that bitch pussy.” But no. You would be wrong. I am not about to eat this bitch. I am about to “devour” this “investment”! I’m about to eat this money bag until she cries! If you’re gonna call yourself a hustler, then you gotta hustle. At all costs and at the drop of a hat. This is a white, woman, lawyer. Priceless! Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pulled her hips down closer to my face and licked her slowly from clit to pussy hole. The heart stopping shriek she let out, was enough to wake the dead! “AAAAHHH!” As if on cue, she went to work sucking my dick with a strong and fierce determination! She was trying to pull it up outta me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer! I pulled her clit between my teeth and sucked it like a baby’s bottle. She couldn’t take it. She yelled and bucked as I held onto her waist not allowing her to run! She came so hard that her sticky cream shot across my chin! Yes, she was a squirter! The first I’d ever been with. But definitely not the last. “Wooooo! Ah! Ah!” She screamed just before her body shook, trembled, then went limp! She was spent and needed time to recover. My dick was still rock hard, and by her having to take her hot mouth off of it to scream and whine, she’d allowed my own steadily rising orgasm to subside some. Which is exactly what I wanted. After catching her breath, she attempted to finish sucking me off but I stopped her immediately. Rolling from underneath her, I stood as she stared at me in wonderment. “What’s wrong?” She asked breathlessly with her orgasm weakened voice. Without giving a response, I reached down, scooping her up in my arms, walked over and tossed her onto the cream - colored love seat beside a huge platinum colored plasma television. Scooping my pants up off the floor, I retrieved a Bareback condom from the inside of my left front pocket. Lauryn smiled up at me, then laid back legs spread wide, fingering her rose colored clit.
“Turn around.” I ordered this thick, white woman lawyer, like a Mandingo slave about to fuck his cruel master’s wife!
“Yes daddy.” She purred as she twisted around, got up on her knees and looked back at me. “I’m ready daddy.” Now all my real niggas know, there’s something about a broad staring back at you while you’re beating that pussy down. The shit drives me wild! It’s like their challenging me and I have to perform to show them I’m a true champion. I rolled the condom on, placed my hand on the small of her back, and slid in slowly, inch by inch. “OOOOH! Goddamn you got a big dick daddy! AHHHHH!” I picked up speed as her pussy splashed juices all over my thighs! Before long, I was pounded her pussy out like she owed me money! Grabbing onto her hips, I pushed the length of my shaft all the way into her, slowly grinding my hips into her middle as I felt my dick head hit bottom. “OOHHH SHIT!!! You, black motherfucker fuck me!!!” she screamed. The comment caught me by surprise at first. But no worry, I catch on quick. Hungrily I pounded into her with a newfound fury! “Ohhhh Shiiit!”
“Shut up bitch! You love this black dick, don’t you?” I growled
“Oh shit, yesss!”
“Shut up and take this black dick bitch!”
“Okay! Oh god, I’m about to!”
“White slut!”
“Yes! Oh god! I’m cumming!”
“Shut the fuck up bitch! That’s all you’ve been waiting on is some of this big black nigger dick ain’t it!” I talked shit as I pounded her pussy like a maniac on the loose!
“Yesss! Oh yesss! I’m about to cum!”
“You ain’t shit but a white trash slut! Ain’t you!”
“Yesss! Oh shit!”
“Say it!”
“Oh shit! I’m a white…. Trash… slut! Oh god, I’m cummmmminnng!” She screamed my name along with a few obscenities I couldn’t quite make out, as she almost fell off the love seat with another heart stopping orgasm! Yeah. I bet the neighbors know “My” motherfuckin name! Our fucking went on for hours. Doggystyle, missionary, cowgirl, reverse. I wore that white pussy down to the nub! I went through a box and a half of rubbers and she still refused to let me leave until she swallowed one. By then, I felt like I wasn’t shooting nothing but water! I came so much my balls were sore! She wanted me to stay but I kept it real from the jump, and told her I had a wifey waiting on me back at the hotel. I was just hoping like hell Monique didn’t want no dick when I got back. I promised Lauryn I’d come back the next weekend and I did. I soon found out that she’d never been with but one white guy in her life, and that was when she was just sixteen. He took her virginity. The next guy was the star of her high school’s basketball team named “Jay.” She went black and never went back. She didn’t have a man because she was currently going through a divorce, and her soon to be ex-husband would do anything to project her as an unfaithful spouse. He was the Fayetteville Chief of Police, and she was a lawyer that secretly loved bad boys. They were doomed from the start. She said that me being from The Bull City made things more convenient for her situation, although she’d love to be able to somehow spend more time with me. When it came to lawyers, she was one of the most sought after in the state. Being an ex-District Attorney’s office employee, left her with priceless inside connects. I think we all can agree, that it’s not what you know, but whom. She used what she had, to get what she wanted, and her bank account reflected it. If she knew a judge was sweet on her, she’d flirt with him and give him empty promises of sex to have motions ruled in her favor. “It happens more than you’d think.” She told me. She did whatever it took to get her clients off. Just like Kerry Washington in “Scandal.” The only difference is, instead of her being a black lady who loves white men, she’s a white lady who loves black. Ironic aint it? She didn’t sleep with a lot of men, but the lucky ones whom she did, got the full service. We got together at least once a week after that. She’d call and say she needed a fix, then either drive to Durham, or we’d meet up halfway. After hearing about her punk ass cop husband, I decided to stay the hell away from Fayetteville. Wouldn’t wanna fuck up a good thing. I even had her smoking tree when she was with me. She was one of those white chics with a black soul, so she was down for whatever. But right now, our situation is different. She’s sitting here with me in the Durham Police Department Headquarters as my attorney. Two detectives have just entered the room. Both are black, although one is short and bald, while the other is tall and lanky. Short and bald is wearing a gray suit with white shoes. Where the hell do they do that at! I already know he’s gonna be an asshole. Tall and lanky is wearing jeans and a N.C. State sweatshirt. He’s got his badge hanging from his neck on a chain, and he’s calling himself trying to intimidate me by staring me down. It aint working.
“Alright then, let’s get started. Ms. Laddell, even though I must admit that I’ve heard of your reputation, I’m surprised to see you so far away from your territory,” Mr. sweatshirt and jeans spoke, as he and his partner sat down across from us.
“If you’ve heard so much about me then you should already know, that I’ll go wherever my skills or my clients need me to go. So, home is wherever I wish it to be. And you are?” Lauryn crossed her legs and stared back at him with disgust. A clear indication that he was speaking to someone above his pay grade.
“Oh. Please forgive me for being rude. I’m Detective Walker and this is Detective Rhyne. We’re working the homicide case of one Joseph D. Glasson, also known as “Big Joe.” You know what I’m talking about don’t you Theodore? He went from lawyer to me without warning. Probably some weak ass tactic they were taught at the academy to catch people off guard.
“Please Mr. Walks or whatever your name is. If you want to ask my client anything, then you will address me first or this interview is over before it gets started.” Lauryn was mean. I liked that.
“My apologies Ms. Laddell. No need to get testy. Is it alright if your client answers the question?”
“If he wants to.”
“The answer is no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I answered abruptly.
“I see. Well then, I just have a few more questions. You are aware of your rights; aren’t you? You have the right to remain sil…”
“Mr. Walker please!” Lauryn cut him off immediately. “I am a very busy woman. I am here with my client, I represent his rights, and I understand them all. Now please stop wasting my time with these shenanigans and ask your questions or we are leaving!” Lauryn was starting to show her impatience with the detective as a shit eating grin slowly spread across his face.
“As you wish madam.”
“Ms. Laddell please.”
“Oh yeah. So, Mr. Banks, where were you on Tuesday evening between the hours of two and three pm?”
“Fishing.”
“At what location?”
“Twin Lakes.”
“Is there anyone who can verify this?”
“Nope. I always fish alone. Only time I can get a piece of mind.”
“Oh yes, I love to fish myself. Very relaxing. But what would your response be, if I told you that we have several witnesses, that are willing to testify, that you were in McDougald Terrace Housing Projects on Tuesday evening, AND THAT YOU SHOT AND KILLED BIG JOE!” Walkers voice continued to rise until he was yelling! Calmly I answered him.
“I’d tell you that you are a lying nigger pig, and that whoever told you that, must be willing to tell you whatever you want to hear. Now, you tell me. What kind of trouble are they in, and what did you promise them?” His bullshit tactics weren’t gonna rattle me, and I was glad Lauryn hadn’t intervened. I needed to get that off. Suddenly Walker stood up, looked back at me smiling, and knocked on the door twice. As if on cue, the door opened inward, and staring me eye to eye, was Hood. As two more detectives walked him past the room door. Detective Rhyne stood and closed the door as Walker sat back down in front of me.
“Now, as I was saying. My nigger pig ass, has got yo black ass by the balls. I’ll leave you and your attorney to discuss the details of the situation, but rest assured Mr. locked up and lonely, you are being charged with murder.”
“I hate to bust your bubble Mr. whatever your name is, but my client and I came here voluntarily. That elementary little stunt you just pulled doesn’t prove that you have any evidence against my client, nor does it give you any grounds to hold him on. So, could you please step out of the way, because were leaving. Come on Mr. Banks.” Lauryn grabbed her Chanel pocket book and stood up defiantly.
“Sorry Ms. Laddell, but that won’t be possible. Although I respect your stature, and reputation, we already have the warrant.” Walker snickered sarcastically as he walked towards the door. “Watch them. He’s under arrest.” He spoke to the officer standing by the door as he walked out with Rhyne on his heels.
“Teddy! What the fuck happened?” Lauryn asked as soon as the door closed behind the detectives. “Did, you do it? And please don’t lie. I’ve defended people for murder before. This is no time for half - truths. I need to know the facts, so I’ll know how to approach this thing. I love you. You know I will sell my soul to the devil if it keeps you with me.”
“I shot him.”
“You killed him?”
“I don’t know. I said I think I shot him.”
“You think!”
“Yeah, I shot him. But somebody shot me too!” I said just a little louder than I’d intended, before pulling my shirt over my head and showing her my bandaged shoulder.
“Did you mean to do it?”
“Yes.”
“Was it about your girlfriend?”
“Yeah. That and other shit.” I looked up at Lauryn because she knew we never discussed any part of my life if it didn’t concern me and her.
“Did you have to kill him?”
“Yeah, aight!”
“Don’t get angry Teddy. I’m just trying to figure out how to get you outta this. Do you know that guy they just walked past the door?”
“Yeah.” The door swung open and in walked Walker and Rhyne with two uniformed cops this time. “Mr. Banks. You have the right to remain silent….
For eight months, I sat in the Durham County Jail because they refused to give me a bond. The jailers joked with me that I must be in there for pimping, because of all the chics who visited me. One day Monique would come, the next day Keisha, the day after that Latifah, the next day my little Jamaican tender Yokki would come thorough, and so on and so on. I made all of them feel like they were the only woman in the world when they came. I had to. It’s part of being locked the fuck up. Shell was in the block next to mine. He spent seven months in C-Block and took a plea for three years. Two months later, I caught my time. The District Attorney was threatening life. They said they had an eyewitness ready to testify. I couldn’t gamble with that. Sixteen to twenty years with a promise from my lawyer to have me back in court in two. It took four. Let it die down some he said. No I didn’t use Lauryn. Even though she’d come to tears begging me to let her represent me, I didn’t wanna put her out there like that. She’d never represented anybody from Durham, and her police chief ex-husband had already begun digging into our relationship with each other. So, I hired the next best thing. A greedy ex-judge. With all the money that I pumped into his old hand, I should have been able to buy a fuckin jury. But true to his word, the fix was already in. Lauryn did the behind the scenes work on my Motion for Appropriate Relief, and it took her just two months after filing it with the courts, to get me freed on Justifiable Homicide. Shell did his three, I did four, and now I’m back home. Prison is designed for losers. If you don’t consider yourself one, then stay the hell away from the penitentiary. Although a lot of good niggas do fall victim to the white man’s organized slavery. It’s the biggest legal hustle in America. They call it prison. Bullshit food, no privacy, no pussy, smelling niggas funky asses all day, lies, lies, and more lies. Everybody’s a kingpin and a killer. Wasn’t nobody smoking crack, sniffing, or shooting dope. Oh no. Everybody sold it. Yeah right! Then you got the niggas that’s in love with another nigga. Real talk! I’m talking about listening to the quiet storm writing each other love letters kinda shit. Real live homo thugs! Prison is built to oppress, not rehabilitate as they claim. I’m not going back! I gotta be smarter. But now that I got ya’ll up to speed on where I’m at now and how I got here, let’s push forward. There’s some shit I need some answers to. Prepare yourself for the Untold Truth.
I left Tamia’s crib around 9:30 the next morning. Turning my phone on I saw that I had ten texts and thirteen messages. I knew it was Monique but I decided to let her sweat while I went and checked in with my parole officer. Even though the parole was only for ninety days, I still had to go see him within the first 96 hours of my release. It was part of my release plan. The minute I walked into my parole officer’s door, I knew I’d gotten stuck with an asshole. He had that look that we all know too well. The look of a nigger, who wants to be white. The kind that will bury a thousand black men, just to impress one white one.
“Good morning sir. And you are?” He even tried to sound white. Damn.
“Theodore Banks.”
“Ah yes, I’ve been expecting you Mr. Banks. My name is Oliver Green. You may call me Mr. Greene. I’ll be your parole officer for the next ninety days.” He said with a shit eating grin, as he shuffled through a stack of folders on his desk, until he came to the one with my picture stapled to the top of it. “Alright Mr. Banks, my rules are simple.” I noticed right away that he was quick to say ‘My” rules, instead of the conditions of your parole. “You are not to be around nor possess, any drugs or weapons of any kind etc. etc. You are to follow all the laws of the state of North Carolina. For the first thirty days of your parole, you are to be inside of your residence by seven p.m. You may not leave until at least 7 a.m. the following morning. Not on the porch, not in the yard, inside. During the full extent of your parole, you must remain either gainfully employed, in school of some kind, or searching for employment. You are to see me here twice a week, Monday and Friday, and pay a parole payment of forty dollars a week. Failure to comply with “any” of these rules, will result in your immediate return to prison, for a term of no less or no more than nine months. Are we clear?”
The fact that this house nigga had said all that in one breath, told me that he was gonna create a problem, even if there was none. “Yeah; we clear.”
“Yes, we’re clear Mr. Banks. Yes, we’re clear. Please use proper English when speaking to me. This is not a street corner. It is a North Carolina state judicial building. Please act accordingly.” I didn’t give him the satisfaction of me answering again. “Alright then. Make sure you’re in by seven.” He said as he got up and opened the door for me to leave. “Oh yes, just one more thing Mr. Banks.”
“What is it?” He was starting to try my patience.
“I’ll be watching you.” He grinned and shut the door behind me.