Child Of God (2) Tamara‘s phone rang and it was Karen, she answered before she thought and said, “Give me good news.” “Is 42,000 a stretch,” Karen politely asked. She explained they’d been trying to get rid of the two adjacent lots for a long time with no bidders because it was only zoned for industrial. The good news was that last year the new highway required rezoning and they changed the ordnance so it could be built up again as a community. This meant she was receiving a solid lead on the property and a good offer. “Great, since its only noon you can get the funds verified so I can take possession of the house,” Tamara added. She explained she wanted to get the lights and gas transferred to her name as a renter and move into the home while the paperwork for the sell was drawn up. “It’s only because now that I’m here I don’t want to leave,” she told Karen. Since that had been approved she would need to shop and settle in. Tamara also needed to get in touch with Gilroy, an old handy man to do the repairs for the home and then she would treat her daughter to a day of shopping for the new house. After the celebration Tamara knew she would need to get in touch with this Michelle Winters, aka Lady Killer because they said she would be a valuable source for information. As the district attorney Tamara was determined to find out as much as she could from her about the drug game. The seasons of woos and woes “To every thing there is a season.” Chapter four “I wanted to call you and tell you I was pregnant just to have a reason to make you talk to me but I knew that would sound ridiculous,” Karl jokingly told his girlfriend, Michelle. She didn’t believe him for one minute and love to that date was something the 36 year old district attorney hadn’t been able to win with her wit or good looks. She’d caught Karl a thousand times in compromising positions but hadn’t managed to build a case strong enough to attest an over 20 year attraction. She made him sleep on the couch at night while lying to her family and friends that they were doing fine. To Michelle it sounded like more of a hopeful truth because she had invested years in her childhood and the greatest portion of her adulthood loving a man that loved his self too much to treat anyone else right. Karl was a taker and everything would be going good until he‘d get a whiff of some short skirt, then he’d start senseless arguments to get out of the house. But she loved him, led a separate life just to love him, working as a stern and powerful attorney against some of the top defense lawyer in their city and gaining the nickname: Lady Killer because she lobbied so much against you that your time was brutal enough to draw blood. Inmates shuffled in the courtroom disappointed when the Lady Killer was ready to role. Drug dealers, CEO, politicians and anyone else in a high place with a criminal mind advised that standing on the bridge of justice with her meant you that you were educated on your rights as you watch them be given up and marched into prison. Michelle had loved him so long that not loving made no sense. She took up for him, lied for him, sent herself gifts with his name to brag on to family about. “Hell you can tell I came from a dysfunctional background,” Michelle said to herself. “That’s probably why I like prosecuting men, sorry bastards, because I never knew my Daddy.” Her wounds tore from within, the rigid facade masked a need to be loved but a still a steady weakness held the fantasy of her relationship with Karl together. That was Michelle’s passion to think that some man could love her even if her Daddy didn’t, thus the compulsive need to forgive Karl for not being shit either. The call was not just to attest his love and that would be like always, “Babe, I need to use your other car today, got to put mine in the shop,” Karl said. “What, no I don’t have a case today, I promised my sister I’d do her a favor today and after that I‘ll just give you a ride,” Michelle responded. For some reason she still conceded in the end to letting her long time boy friend get the Lexus jeep. Michelle’s secretary had been informed to take messages on her office and business cell phone. Her favor was to take her sister Tiffany’s turn in taking their Aunt Sarah to the doctor. She’d been ill for a number of years and had began to lose her memory for long periods of time. Rarely on point in any conversation, while Michelle was helping her put her sweater on she said: “A closed eye ain’t always sleeping baby, ha ha ha ha!” “What’s that suppose to mean Aunt Sarah?,“ she asked. Michelle’s aunty loved to sit by the window and she went on to tell her that Mrs. Anderson’s granddaughter across the street had been going with Karl for a while. “He thinks I’m crazy cause I’m old, be waving to me when he see me like I ain’t got the good sense of a cow’s ass but a fool I’m not,” her aunt hollered out and laughed. The sad thing about the news was that meant this dumb bastard was scheduled to come to pick up his girlfriend in her face that day. Michelle called her brother, Steve, and let him in on Karl’s scheme. She pulled her car in the back of her aunt’s house, her brother positioned around the corner with their cousin Big V (a big dude down for whatever). When Karl pulled up at Mrs. Anderson’s his young girlfriend could hardly contain herself. With denim panties and a half shirt, each barely keeping the bulge of her breast and other dimensions from bouncing about, the heifer just hopped into Michelle’s jeep like she was the ghetto princess and gave their man a kiss. Michelle’s posses pulled in front of them and she pressed close from the back with her bumper. Karl looked as if he had seen a ghost, then Big V snatched him out of the car while her brother opened the door for Mrs. Thing encouraging her to get out. Michelle was only concerned with her target, the man who she had favored for so many years that she forgot she deserved better. “You ain’t shit…Your not even worth addressing,” she said calmly as if addressing a jury. “Everything that you owned at my house I paid for and I’m sure my brother can make better use of so if you do come back for anything it will only be for a bullet.” Big V pulled off first and Michelle followed while Steve stayed behind to re-enforce her threat. Michelle called her aunties doctor to re-schedule for the next day and took her something to eat for the postponement. She’d have to pay someone to take her to doctor tomorrow but it was not a serious threat to her health so Michelle decided to just check into work after the locksmith left. Meeting of minds Two sisters from two sides going the same place Chapter 5 When Michelle called into the office her secretary gave her equally alarming news, not only had Tyrone Jones, a notorious drug kingpin who trafficked millions of dollars into the city agreed to finally talk but some nosy reporter was calling in asking for the most current stats for drug confiscations dating back twenty years. “Who did she say she was again?” Michelle asked. “She didn’t, just that she wanted to speak with you and to have that information before your meeting,” Pam said. From the case information her secretary said that the word is T.J. had a score to settle with a old rival who was now dating his girlfriend. “So he had no sense of remorse for the families he has destroyed just a vendetta because of a girl,” Michelle said. “Niggers just ain’t shit and this is a Black woman saying it.” Too much drama Michelle thought, more than she expected in one day. The district attorney looked forward to re-examining T.J. who in her eyes was apart of the breakdown in the African American community. She had not always been so strict against drug dealers, it was hard to grow up in a neighborhood where the only trade a Black man could learn was illegal. There were not enough jobs but in her eyes they knew the consequences. The excuse that they did not drop the drugs off in the ghetto was tired and old and just a mere procrastition to their laziness. If it was the white man then why hadn’t T.J. and the rest of the thugs gave them up when they are facing 20 years to life. Why did the myth mean she should be empathic to their plight and why hadn’t one Black man in the game not turned around to educate the others. “If he can give me something to work with I’ll work with him but I want more than Pookie and them,” Michelle said. “I want to know who is doing what so we can shut this drug trade down.” Michelle’s secretary told her she would need to go to the federal holding cell downtown to meet the infamous kingpin. She would need to be stern, shallow so that the rough neck understood his field trip would include more than a chance to sight see. T.J. had been locked up for over four years now, it had to be more to the story than some good lay. During his trail family members and best friends announced their love and allegiance as only a prelude to completely detailing his more than 20 year operation. His posse had trafficked cocaine and heroin in dead bodies with a funeral home and smuggled it up and down the east coast in horses. Under the radar millions and millions of dollars was pushed through Iredell County producing fleets (second and third generation) addicts and drug dealers. Instead of talking about the little people he had beat with this time T.J. would have to also give up key upper men, there had been a rumor that lawyers were responsible for bringing the large cartels affiliated with the people and the area. It could go all the way to the top, Michelle thought. As she pulled into the parking lot of the federal building there seemed to be a woman waiting for her. The ladies onward stare as she walked to the car made Michelle weary so she strapped her badge and gun on before exiting the car. The woman seemed to be five feet four, 140 pounds with a motherly presence and good eye for fashion, Michelle thought she must be a good church going Mom who’s son I put away. “Excuse me!,” the mysterious woman blared out making her way with each step recording the stride of her three inch heels. “My name is Tamara Stevens, an independent journalist, and I would like to ask you a few questions about the immense drug infestation in South Side.” Who does this bitch think she is, Michelle thought. “Mrs. Stevens I’m currently on my way to an interview with one of the largest drug dealers from that area, I would love to talk to you after you make an appointment with my secretary,” Michelle replied not even breaking her stride. Michelle’s purpose was as certain as her words, Tamara seemed to stand down with resolve. Both women knew they would meet again but either had any idea how much they would need one another in the next few days. Menace to Society Masters in street pharmacy Chapter six Jails are kept dark, dank and hopeless. It was never the place to be but T.J. (short for Tyrell James) was happy to be home. The tough guy never factored that claiming to be the hardest negro in his small town streets was bragging rights in federal penitentiary. Those guys thought killing a few people was apart of the lil man initiation. Michelle had pushed for 48 years and labeled T.J. a menace to society so she had no idea why he would demand to talk to her. He was bigger, his muscle seemed to refine his prison uniform making it fashionable to rock hot orange. “Hello Ms. Winters, I’m sure your wondering why I insisted on coming down here and talking to you,” T.J. said. His calm demeanor overwhelmed the tense prosecutor, “I’m not a good person and my only hope is to right some of my wrongs”….” They always brag about how hard you are and I agree, you made my knees tremble as a grown man when you presented your case against me,” he said. There still seemed to be some missing threads, though it was obvious that T.J. had utilized the prison library and began formulating a plan on how to live his life behind bars Michelle still heard no confession. “I need hard evidence,” Michelle interrupted. “I mean I’m glad to know you gained some level of remorse and sanity while behind bars but the dialogue is not necessary, I’m here for hard facts.” The once docile sex symbol seemed to raise from his chair without moving. “Listen, you want the truth…(he chuckled beyond the weight of her words) but when it is given to you will you be blind,” T.J. responded with a intense stare. “Now look there was a girl named Monique Richardson that was murdered in 2005, I want you to look into that murder.” “So you call me down here on my day off to tell me to look into some woman’s unsolved murder, You’ve got to be kidding me,” Michelle yelled. “Look lady I am trying to be nice and save my own life at the same time, Monique was a crack head and she is the reason that I’m here with you.” “I was wrong because I handed her a pipe but these big people you say you want to know about, this drug trade you swear you want all way to the suppliers killed her,” T.J. confessed. “Like I said I am wrong, I have Monique’s voice recorded when we were young and a child by her that reminds me that my prison is not just around me; I’m incarcerated in my mind.” Michelle gathered from his information that the a lawyer by the name of Jackson Harris worked with another man who’s name even he was afraid to say. Two others who went unnamed made sure plenty of dope ran in the county for profit. He insisted the operation included doctors, cops and other high officials so T.J. put the word out that he was telling on a small time nigger in the streets to throw off any suspicion that he would give up the drug trade on that level. “Oh yeah the chicken head I’m giving up is Scooter, lil nigger gives credit to folk at the rehab house so he deserves to go down,” T.J. said. They made arrangements to meet again before Michelle pushed the buzzer for the bailiff. “I hope I can thank you for this visit Tyrell; its good to see you understand the error of your ways,” Michelle spouted. “Let’s keep it real little mama, you fine, you got it together but you know these streets so don’t blame it all on me like I don’t have a story.” “What happened to me, my mom died when I was 3 and my Daddy was a numbers man”...“I’m good with numbers and I followed the family trade; got a scholarship in the streets and mastered many things before yawl locked me up,” T.J. said glaring at Michelle as if he saw straight through her. “Be mad at the streets baby girl, get mad at the people feeding it to yours first then look at me.” Settling “Sweep around your own back door” Chapter Seven Tamara was overloaded with information too, when she was a budding reporter there were senseless deaths but crack had produced more pains than simple self destruction. It reaches into the hopes and dreams of loves ones; it takes there television or savings accounts for wasteful rehab and still says no more than hell and the grave: “Give me more!” She didn’t like Mrs. Winters; even the most saved part of her wanted to cuss her out. There were countless seizures but the area looked like it had been drenched in poverty and crime for decades. “God how can she look around and feel like she is making a difference, she should be ashamed of herself,” Tamara said aloud. “Well if she thinks for one second that she has heard the last of me then she’s crazy.” Trying to focus on settling in too, and getting Briana used to her new surroundings was going smoothly. But she still needed to catch up with some family and meet with the contractors for the expansion. As she poured over her plans Tamara put Briana to bed; peering in on her princess she turned off the lights and made her way up the hall. Right before she sat down the door bell rang. “Stranger,” Tamara screamed while pulling her visitor in; it was her favorite cousin Sissy. “Girl when I heard you were back I had to come see you, its like God sent you here for a reason,” Sissy said. Those words danced in Tamara’s spirit while she listened to her big cousins dilemma. “Well you know they got my nephew T.J. a few years ago, Sheila and my brother Ralph’s son.” “He just was too much like his Daddy; hard headed and he ended up getting close to 48 years for selling drugs here,” Sissy said. She told Tamara that he was in town to testify against some one, she had gotten word from a church member that worked at the jail. “He won’t talk to me though”…“I don’t know why he could be here other than to see his daughter.,” Sissy said puzzled. Tyrell’s four year old daughters name was Destiny and from the proud aunties pictures she was a wise, spry and a beautiful child. “Her mother was killed right after she was born and I’ve had her since she was a month old,” Sissy said. She told Tamara that Monique had been brutally murdered and thrown on the side of the rode like a piece of garbage. She had been raped and sodomized with broken glass bottles and broom handles before being shot between the eyes military style and stabbed in the back with some large object. “O my God and no one was ever arrested or questioned in her murder,“ the keen reporter asked. “No and Tyrell swears this crooked town has something to do with it,” Sissy said. Tamara promised her cousin that she would try and find out why Tyrell was in town and why he hadn’t contacted her to see his little girl. She also wanted to know what the drug game had to do with Monique’s death. No she didn’t “First impressions don’t have to be lasting impressions” Chapter Eight Her appointment to meet with the prosecutor was at 3 p.m. and Tamara was not detoured by Mrs. Winters hard facade; she was more determined to walk away with some solid leads. When she walked in and gave her name the secretary looked in disappointment, it was okay if they had discussed her prior to this visit and alright if they didn’t like her; Tamara knew the truth considers no allies. She sat quietly pouring over her fact sheets; her confidence constantly rehearsed in disgust.
Copyright © 2009 Bridgett Nesbit |