About a week or so later, the pigs showed back up and the C.O.s came and got me out of my cell again, (you know I was pissed off!)
Face smiled as he continued to read...
Anyway, this time when I met up with the pigs I rammed on they bitch asses! I told them stupid muthafuckers that I ain't no snitch and I would rather die from a bullet to the head than to snitch on my best friend!
After they left I never seen or heard from the pigs again. Anyway, I just wanted to keep you posted on what was going on. Other than that everything is the same ole' same ole'; doing
my time and not letting my time do me. I'll keep praying for you, Homey. No matter what the outcome, I'll always be your right hand. Love Reese.”
P.S. I never forgot what you used to tell me; “Blood is thicker than Water. But, Love is thicker than Blood! You were never wrong!"
After Face finished reading Reese's letter, he put it back inside the envelope. With a single tear falling down from one of his eyes, he smiled and shook his head.
Later that night, Bethesda Maryland, a small suburban town on the outskirts of Washington, D.C...
Inside the basement of his lovely two story home, C.W. Watson paced the floor furiously. He and his godson, Charles, had just finished watching the sex tape. On the secretly made sex tape, Charles had made a drunken confession about the tragic event that had happened more than 35 years ago. Still, the confession was enough to destroy both of their political careers forever. And C.W. Watson knew that if the sex disc, with Charles’ confession on it ever got into the wrong hands, he would never reach his dream of becoming the next President of the United States.
"What the fuck were you thinking about?" he paused and shouted.
"Godfather, I'm terribly sorry! Please forgive me!" Charles begged.
"Sorry? My chance at the White House is now in the hands of this black nigger whore that you were fucking! Now, all you have to say is that you're sorry?" C.W. fumed.
"I was drunk... I didn't know what I was saying," Charles cried out.
C.W. walked up to Charles and reached out and grabbed his shirt collar, "You stupid son-of-a-bitch! You fucked everything up! Now, I have to make some important phone calls and try to fix this fine mess you put us in!" he vented.
"Please forgive me Godfather! Veronica was setting me up the whole time and I never knew it" Charles said, as his eyes welled with tears.
C.W. stared at Charles in disgust. "I can't believe you let a woman trick you like this. Especially a Black one!"
C.W. released his grip and watched as Charles sadly lowered his head. As he went back to pacing the floor, he still couldn’t believe what had happened. How his own godson had
put him in a desperate situation.
"Damn!" he snapped.
Charles was too scared to look him in the eye, so he shamefully kept his head down and his eyes focused on the floor.
C.W. took out his cell phone and dialed a number. He knew that if he didn't act fast then his time would run out. As he waited for someone to answer the phone, the words on the
postcard flashed in his head; 'If Face loses, then so will you!'
CHAPTER 103
Early the next day, outside the Federal Courthouse...
Vincent Bradley stepped out of the black limousine and closed the door. He had an incredulous look on his face. The news he just received was the most disturbing he had ever heard; there was a major problem, and the powers that be were counting on him to help fix it.
Vincent walked toward the two waiting Agents and pulled them to the side. Seeing his distraught expression, they could tell that something was terribly wrong.
"What's up Mr. Bradley?" Agent Powaski asked.
After a long sigh Vincent looked at both men and said, "Call everything off!" he said in a demanding voice.
"What?" Agent McDonald asked as if he hadn't heard him correctly.
"You heard me! Call everything off!" he repeated angrily.
Both agents knew that it wouldn't be wise to question the Prosecutor's authority. He had given them a direct order and they had to obey it.
Agent Powaski angrily took out his cell phone and impatiently dialed a number.
All three men stood around waiting as it continued to ring. "He's not answering his phone," Powaski finally said.
"Well, where the hell is he?" Vincent barked.
"We're not sure, Sir. Last night after we gave him the weapon and getaway car that he was supposed to use, he told us he would call us this morning. But so far he hasn't called. Or answered his cell phone," Agent McDonald said. "But, we'll keep trying until we reach him."
"You do that! Things have gotten out of hand, and that cop could make matters a lot worse! So, find him! And find him fast!" Vincent said, then turned around and angrily walked away.
The two agents watched as Vincent Bradley walked up the courthouse steps and entered the building. "I wonder what's going on?" Powaski mused, as they walked to their parked
car.
"Whatever it is, I'd bet it has something to do with the limo parked over there," McDonald said, pointing to the tinted, black limousine.
"Let's go find this fool. I don't want the person in that limousine mad at me," Powaski said, as they both climbed inside the car.
One hour later, Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania...
The all white Mercedes Benz pulled up in front of the beautiful Spanish style home. An attractive blond haired woman pressed the horn twice. Moments later Peter J. Greenberg walked out of the house carrying a large black briefcase. He walked over to the car and climbed inside. After placing the briefcase on the back seat, he leaned over and gave the woman a long and zealous kiss.
"You ready to get out of here?" she asked with a big grin.
"I've been ready. Our plane is waiting at the airport," Peter said, as he relaxed in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. "I just heard over the radio that your friend’s trial
has resumed. They’re going to read the verdict today," the woman said, pulling off. "What do you think the verdict will be?"
"From what I saw, the government can't lose. They had so much evidence and too many witnesses testified against him. Two of them were bosses in one of the world’s largest drug cartels."
Wow, that really sucks!" the woman said.
It’s funny how your friend today could be your enemy tomorrow," Peter said.
"You're funny," the woman said stopping the car at a red light. "Do you want to hear the verdict? They're going to broadcast it live over the radio?"
"No, it will be depressing. I just want to get on that plane and get as far away from this country as possible," he said seriously.
"Sounds good to me. I can't wait to sunbathe on the nude beaches of Costa Rico," the woman said, as they continued on their way when the light turned green.
Inside the Federal Courthouse...
The trial lasted a laborious two months. Each day seemed longer and more intense than the previous day. Today, the final scene of the final act of this dark and dreary affair would come to a end and the curtain would fall. Whether or not there would be an encore was yet to be seen. Today the long awaited verdict would be read. Today, finally perhaps, justice would be served. The expectation and the curiosity, the tension and dread was as thick as a London fog rolling through the courtroom in roiling sheets. One could almost taste it.
'It shouldn't be long, now,' Gloria thought, glancing up at the clock on the far wall. They'll be back any minute.'
Her mind bounced back and forth like a pinball machine, considering the possibilities as she briefly glanced across her shoulder at Face. He was so remotely calm and relaxed. She briefly wondered if he was even human. She wondered how anyone could totally distance themselves from all of this. She put some papers back into her black leather briefcase that were lying on the table in front of her. As her fingers swept across the gold medal clasps she noticed a slight electric shudder pass through her body; from the tips of her pink painted t
oenails to the very crown of her head. A tinge of nervousness and anxiety shimmered through her entire hourglass figure.
Face glanced casually around at all the people in the crowded room. His glance said that this was nothing but a circus to him; nothing more. The faces of family, friends, enemies, victims, Federal agents, reporters and spectators were tense and dreading. Some smiled with satisfaction and excitement, waiting to see the black king go down. But what really caught his eye was seeing the expression on Prosecutor Vincent Bradley's face.
For a few seconds they just stared at each other. Face could sense a feeling of pure hate coming from him. Bradley was being forced to do something he was in total disagreement with and could have never imagined. Something so unthinkable that if it didn't get done, the lives
of so many powerful people would be ruined forever and he would be to blame.
Suddenly, the jury room door opened. The twelve men and women who made up the jury, of his peers, calmly filed out and made their way to their assigned seats. They did their best not to make eye contact with Face, Gloria, and Bradley, but a few snuck a peek. They had deliberated for three long days and now however, they were ecstatically relieved to be finished.
In fact, they were giddy with relief. Now they could all get back to their normal lives and stop living in this surreal world where drugs, money, murder, power, greed and secrets ruled the
hearts of men; a world and lifestyle that was impossible for them to understand and tolerate. But it was now over! The United States of America -VS- Norman Smith, Jr. would finally
come to an end for once and for all.
CHAPTER 104
Agent McDonald pulled over and parked on the corner of 8th and Chestnut Street. He glanced at Powaski, who had his cell phone to his ear. "He's still not picking up!" Powaski said angrily.
“Fuck! Where the hell is that fool?" McDonald barked.
Powaski closed his cell phone and said, "We have to find him fast, before he does something stupid and get us all killed!"
McDonald slammed his hand down hard on the steering wheel, his anger rising with each passing minute. "Just keep calling him! He has to pick up sooner or later!" he said.
Powaski dialed Ron Perry's cell phone number again and waited while it continued to ring. After a long sigh, McDonald started up the car and pulled away from the curb. He knew that if they didn't find Ron Perry soon, a lot of people would be in big trouble, him included.
Right across the street from the Federal Courthouse, Ron Perry was situated on the roof of a small fast food restaurant. He had been there since five o'clock that morning, patiently
waiting for his golden opportunity to arrive.
After the two agents had dropped off the rifle and the getaway car at his house and left, Ron Perry left a short time later to get into position. He had gotten into the getaway
car and placed the rifle in the passenger seat, then he headed toward downtown Philadelphia to find the perfect sniper 'hide'.
After searching around the back of the building he found a fire escape and climbed onto the roof. Once there, he knew that it would be the perfect position to fire from. He found a place in a corner where he could see the whole street, but no one would notice him. He sat there with his headphones on and the rifle across his lap. He was listening to the trial that was being broadcast on live radio. A few feet away from him was a bottle of spring water and a bag of barbeque potato chips. His cell phone was laying next to the bag.
Occasionally Ron Perry would stand up and look over the roof’s ledge and down at the street below, watching as cars and people went up and down the street. He saw the black limousine parked right outside the courthouse and wondered who it could be. The limo had been parked there for hours. He knew that whoever it was, they were someone important because the police officers that patrolled the area outside the Federal Court Building, left the limousine completely alone.
As Ron Perry sat back waiting for the long awaited verdict to be read he had no idea that his cell phone had been ringing nonstop.
Camden, New Jersey...
Inside a small house, the TV was on in the living room. The voices of different CNN reporters were discussing the possible outcome of Face's nationally televised trial. Slumped
on the couch facing the TV set was special agent Jack Parker. At the kitchen table was his partner Dave Moore. They were the two agents who were responsible for the safety and well
being of the Gomez brothers until they were delivered into the Witness Protection Program. The front of both of their shirts were covered in blood. Fifteen minutes earlier both of their throats had been cut from ear to ear and the Gomez brothers were nowhere to be found.
CHAPTER 105
Clad in his black silk robe, Federal District Judge, Anthony T. Marino leaned back in his high backed, black, swivel rocking chair a bit to give his aching back a rest. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes momentarily, wondering at how he had arrived at this juncture in his life. Had fate, long ago, preordained this for him; that he would sit in judgment of a man considered to be the most vile and evil man in America? He wondered how all the people's lives had zigzagged until they had all come together here in this place, at this precise time. Fate was definitely fickle. That’s a fact, he thought.
Considering all the power he had, the case presently before him had more depth and magnitude than he could have ever imagined. Now, he felt as if Satan himself sat on trial before him.
There was a great deal of attention from the press, as well as from behind closed doors, in powerful places where people trembled with bated breath and quivering hands knowing that it was possible for their dark secrets to be exposed.
Judge Marino gazed around his domain, then slowly shifted forward. His hand firmly gripped the gavel and the room became almost instantly silent; it was as if everyone had collectively stopped breathing. He cleared his throat and then spoke in a clear baritone voice that floated throughout the courtroom with ease.
"Mr. Foreman, has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?" "Yes, Your Honor. We have," the foreman replied in a high pitched, squeaky voice that rattled with stress.
The bailiff stepped over and reached for the verdict slip. The Foreman handed it over as if glad to be rid of the decision it proclaimed. Every eye in the room followed the paper from
the Foreman's hand to the Bailiff's.
As he walked toward the Judge, the Bailiff glanced at the Prosecutor and gave him a slight nod. That was the sign to let him know that everything had been taken care of.
When the Bailiff handed the verdict slip to Judge Marino, everyone continued to stare at the paper as if it were some strange and exotic creature that may burst into flames at any moment.
Judge Marino leaned slightly to his left with his hand outstretched waiting for the paper knowing there was nothing in the courtroom to fear. With the slightest glance at the paper, its answer was predetermined, he sighed and shook his head ever so slightly, his face betraying not a trace of his swarming thoughts. He was a man who possessed and wore a perpetual iron gaze, keeping his true emotions deeply hidden from outsiders. Strangely though, a slight hint of a smile played at the right corner of his mouth; though it was barely visible to anyone.
After a quick glance, he handed the verdict back to the Bailiff who then transported it back to the jury’s Foreman.
"Mr. Smith, please stand to hear the reading of the verdict," Marino demanded solemnly.
Face slowly rose from his chair. He adjusted his suite jacket carefully. Gloria stood beside him resting a reassuring hand on his arm.
The focus of the entire room centered on Face and Gloria, but unlike the white sheet of paper that held so much attention, people were wary of making any contact with Face; even behind his back.
He smiled inwardly knowing they were petrified and fearful of him and how he would react when he heard the verdict. Mass hysteria had infected them all. Looks of compassion and anger and sympathy and hate wrestled thei
r way through the room. People edged farther forward in their chairs. Then, Judge Marino nodded as he instructed the Foreman, "Mr. Foreman, would
you please read the verdict for the court?"
The nervous Foreman had sweat forming on his forehead. Perhaps it was from the gravity of the moment, or the overhead lights bearing down on him. It could have been the fact that he was overweight and under qualified for the responsibility thrust upon him. Whatever the cause, he was barely holding up under the strain of his responsibility. His nervous eyes flicked around the room, darting here and there, seeking a friendly place to focus.
In reality he was fearful of what was about to erupt inside the confined space in which he was trapped once he read the verdict aloud; which was forever irreversible. Then, he found himself staring into the dark, mysterious and alluring eyes of Face.
Face stood there not blinking and waiting for the trembling weakling of a man, who was about to announce his fate, read the verdict. Though Face stared raptly, his mind was far away; in a place where only memories thrived. He heard not, acknowledged not, the whirlwind of excitement, anticipation, fear and glee that crashed around him like the ocean's surf at high tide. He stood there reminiscing back over his entire life. Memories came in lightning flashes of good and bad...and ugly.
Black Scarface 2 Page 17
