Marriage Mayhem
Page 14
Karen then proceeded to snatch out all the phone cords from the wall and then ran to the bedroom. Jermaine stormed out of the house and called the police on his cell phone. Stevie and Alexus stood crying, witnessing the entire episode.
When the police arrived Jermaine explained to them what had taken place. He emphasized to the police of having her arrested and had also stated that he wanted to press charges on her for assault.
“I didn’t hit him or throw anything at him. He’s lying. Ask my son if you don’t believe me.”
Two of the six policemen who were present took Stevie into a bedroom and questioned him. In the past, when Stevie had witnessed his mother commit acts of violence on one of her exes, she had always told him that if he told the truth that he would be taken away from her by the Department of Children Services and placed in a foster home. To avoid that from happening Stevie lied each time he was questioned by the police.
When the two policemen returned, first they huddled with their partners and discussed what Stevie had said to them, and then the senior officer spoke.
“I’m sorry, sir, but the little boy said that his mother never hit you, kicked you, nor did she throw anything at you.” The officer figured that Stevie was lying to protect his mother, but there was nothing he could do.
“That’s his mother, Officer,” Jermaine said. “She told him to lie. He knows that if he tells the truth that he and his sister could possibly get placed in a foster home. Before you guys came Karen told him to lie, or else.”
“We can’t just put a mother and her kids out on the streets, sir. And we have no evidence or witnesses to arrest her, so actually there’s nothing we can do,” said the senior officer.
“This is unbelievable,” Jermaine yelled angrily. “If she called the police and said that I hit her, you guys would haul me off to jail quicker than eye wink!”
“Calm yourself, sir,” advised one of the officers.
“I don’t believe this!” Jermaine yelled again.
Before leaving, the senior officer pulled Jermaine outside and suggested that he spend the night elsewhere until things cooled down a little.
“You mean that you’re telling me to leave my own house and I’m the fuckin’ victim?”
“We’re not telling you to leave, sir, we’re asking you to consider it.”
Not wanting to be in the presence of Karen or a stepson who had lied to protect her regardless of all the things he’d done for him, Jermaine went to his daughter’s house and spent the night.
Tyrone and his crew had finally made it to Lancaster. Following the directions Denise had given to him, he made it to Karen’s location at 11:30 p.m. From all of the home invasions they had pulled off in the past they knew exactly how they were going to do this. They parked a couple houses away from the Jermaine’s house, then threw on their black masks and then hurriedly bailed out of the vehicle. At first, they were going to knock and play like they were looking for someone who didn’t exist, but Tyrone preferred the sneak attack. Tyrone crept alongside of the house and into the backyard, then quickly broke a window using the gun handle. One of his homeboys was posted at the front door in case Karen tried to run out and the other two were at his side. Seconds later they were inside.
“Pull out the telephone lines,” whispered Tyrone.
Tyrone then crept upstairs, silently checking each room until he found Karen. She was asleep and snoring like a bear in hibernation. Without hesitation, Tyrone took aim and fired three times. One bullet to the head and the other two hit her lower torso. The gangsters then swiftly fled the scene.
Even though Tyrone had handled that business, he still felt that he had some unfinished business to take care of. He then called Denise’s cell.
“What’s wrong with you calling me this time of night? What is it?”
Luckily she was driving and on her way home from the doughnut shop.
“It’s all good, baby girl, mission accomplished. Sorry to bother you so late, but I just wanna to give you a little sumphin’ sumphin’ for helping a nigga out, you know what I’m sayin’. Where can we meet right quick?” Tyrone said.
“So you’re paying me for my info, huh? Okay, that’s cool. Where are you?” Denise asked, with dollar signs on her mind.
After giving Denise his whereabouts, Tyrone waited impatiently for her to arrive.
Minutes later Denise pulled in back of the vehicle Tyrone had described to her and sat, already making plans for the money she was about to receive. Tyrone jumped out of the car and trotted to her vehicle, then aimed his 9mm at her and shot her twice in the head.
“Leave no witnesses, homey. Leave no muthafuckin’ witnesses, you know what I’m sayin’,” Tyrone told his comrades.
The gangsters then made their way back to Los Angeles.
Missing his wife’s touch and not being able to sleep, Jermaine tossed and turned in his grandson’s bed and then suddenly awakened. He had a throbbing erection and only knew of one woman that he could possibly insert it into. There had been so many days and nights inside of his truck that he settled for masturbating, but not this time. His pleasure womb was only minutes away.
He planned to first apologize for calling the police. After that he would begin kissing her, then lay her on her back, and give her a good slow, licking.
Assuming that his daughter and her family were asleep and not wanting to awaken them, Jermaine eased out of the apartment and then made his way home.
When he pulled into his driveway, he heard Alexus’s loud cries and also heard Stevie screaming. He quickly ran inside, sensing that something was terribly wrong. The kids were yelling even louder now.
“Stevie, Alexus, Karen,” Jermaine yelled, while checking the rooms downstairs.
“Daddy, Daddy, come here! It’s Mommy,” cried Stevie.
Jermaine then shot up the stairs to find Karen lying in bed soaking in a pool of blood.
“Oh my God,” Jermaine shouted, staring at his wife. He quickly checked for a heartbeat but there wasn’t one.
He then picked up Alexus and hugged Stevie while calling the police.
“Mommy, Mommy,” cried Alexus, pointing at her mother.
“I heard three loud noises, Daddy, but I was scared to come out of my room. Then I heard somebody running down the stairs and I really got scared then,” said Stevie.
“Did you see anybody?”
“No. I was scared and—”
Minutes later the police arrived.
A passerby driving a blue Mazda had pulled over when observing Denise’s vehicle parked alongside the road with the lights on. Seeing that she was unconscious and noticing blood leaking from two holes in her head, the man grabbed his cell and dialed 911.
Chapter 10
Detectives Baker and Cross found themselves having an extremely busy morning. They received a call that a possible homicide had taken place not too far from where they were located. When discovering the victim was the loud mouth wife of the Jamaican who had been shot months earlier, the detectives were totally astounded.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Detective Baker said. “First the husband gets banged and now his wife. I think that Jamaican has gotten himself into some deep drug-related Mafia-type shit, that’s what I think.”
“Or his bigmouth wife got him into some shit. Don’t forget she has a pretty bad, disrespectful mouth on her,” said Detective Cross, thinking back to the day at the hospital.
“Yeah, you’re right, but two shots to the head over some words? Something just doesn’t add up.”
“That Jamaican definitely knows something. He’s the key to solving this shit.”
“Hell, maybe he tried to kill her himself. I see it like this: Jamaicans are very dominant over their women, right? He demands her to do something, she mouths off to him, he waits until she leaves, and then kills her out here to make it seems like someone else did it. I’ll bet my job that he’s at home pretending to be asleep with no one to confirm that,” said Detective Baker.
“Yeah, hopefully. Let’s head on over to the other crime scene.”
When the detectives made it to Jermaine’s residence, police officers were there taking notes, but Jermaine had followed the ambulance to the hospital. The kids were with him. He had called Jewell to tell her what happened and had asked her to meet him at the hospital.
As Jermaine paced up and down the hallways of the emergency room, hoping to hear some good news from one of the doctors, suddenly five nurses were swiftly wheeling a patient by him who resembled his daughter. Jermaine proceeded to catch the nurses to get a better look at the patient.
“Wait a minute, that’s my daughter! What happened to my daughter?”
“She’s been shot a couple times in the head, sir,” replied the head nurse while pushing the bed.
“What?” yelled Jermaine, not believing that his wife and daughter had been shot on the same night.
Denise was transported to an operating room a couple doors down from Karen, but unfortunately she died a few seconds later.
Maurice rushed into the hospital in his pajamas only to hear the heartbreaking news of his wife’s death. He was destroyed by the news, but his mind suddenly diverted back to his wife talking to Tyrone over the phone. Instinct told him that no one other than Tyrone was behind this.
“I’m going to kill the muthafucka! I’ll fuckin’ kill ’im!” yelled Maurice, angrily, pacing the hallway.
“Kill who?” asked Jermaine. “Do you know who killed my baby? Why would anyone want to kill her?”
Maurice hesitated answering. He thought it would be best to leave Jermaine in the blind for now. He would handle this his way. He would show those muthafuckas what a real Jamaican was capable of.
“I’m not sure, Jermaine, but I think I know who had something to do with it. It may have been those same muthafuckas that shot me,” replied Maurice.
“Well you need to inform the police and—Wait a minute; why would someone shoot you, then turn around and kill my baby? Are you involved in some kind of illegal shit or something?”
“No, Jermaine, I’m not, but if it’s who I think it is, then that wife of yours can lead us to the shooter. I’ll explain more to you when I’ve done my homework. Trust me on this one and let me handle this my way. Don’t say anything to the cops, okay, because they will be questioning both of us.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing, and I do want whoever that’s behind this brought to justice,” said Jermaine.
As Jermaine and Maurice were standing in the hallway mourning over Denise’s death, Detectives Cross and Baker spotted them and rapidly approached them.
“Mr. Banner, Mr. Hopkins, you both have my condolences. I realize how difficult it must be for you to talk to us at this time, but if there’s anything either of you could tell us that will give us a lead, please let us know,” Detective Baker said.
Detective Cross was staring at Maurice, thinking about how much of a smart-ass he had been months earlier.
“Let’s say we go to the cafeteria and talk over a cup of coffee,” suggested Detective Baker.
“Sure,” replied Jermaine. “Anything to be of assistance, Detective, but I can’t stay too long. I told the doctor that I’ll wait right here to find out what’s going on with my wife.”
“We’ll take care of that, Mr. Hopkins. I’ll let the doctors know that you’re both in the cafeteria with us.”
Maurice felt totally different about talking to the police.
“I don’t feel like answering any goddamn questions. You guys are just like those fuckin’ detectives on television. The next thing you know me or my father-in-law will be suspects.”
“I see that your attitude and respect toward law enforcement hasn’t changed since our last encounter, Mr. Banner.”
For some reason, Detective Cross disliked Maurice and now his abhorrence toward the Jamaican grew even more.
“Calm down, Maurice, calm down. I know that she was your wife, but after all she was my daughter. So let’s contribute what we can to help these detectives in order to get some closure on this matter,” suggested Jermaine.
“This asshole thinks he’s one of those Steven Seagal, Wesley Snipes–type guys that’s used to taking the law into his own hands,” Detective Cross stated, as he neared Maurice.
“If any crimes are soon committed by anyone that resembles a Jamaican, I’m coming straight for you, Banner. I’ll personally see to it that before you get shipped back on a banana boat that you serve the maximum sentence here first in the U.S. And that’s a fuckin’ promise!”
“Easy, partner,” said Detective Baker.
Maurice gave Detective Cross an evil look and then mumbled something that the detective could not understand. He and Jermaine then followed the detectives to the cafeteria.
After conducting a slight interrogation, the detectives had ruled both Maurice and Jermaine out as suspects.
“Are you finished now? Listen detectives, only white folks kill their wives and kids, black people aren’t into that kind of crazy shit.” Maurice then stood and walked away.
“I’m warning you, Banner, don’t do anything stupid.”
Jermaine shot out of the cafeteria and hurried back to ICU.
Detectives Cross and Baker remained seated, planning their next move.
The highly trained medical staff at Antelope Valley Hospital worked overtime and diligently to save Karen’s life and luckily their hours of effort paid off. Karen was in critical condition, but the doctors had assured Jermaine that she was going to live. Denise’s funeral was a week later.
Chapter 11
After coming to the United States, Maurice had promised himself that he was no longer going to sell drugs, or do any harm to anyone. Being a citizen of the U.S. was both a blessing and a privilege to him, and under no circumstances would he do anything to jeopardize that.
In Jamaica, Maurice worked directly for a kingpin named Ronnie Black. If someone owed Ronnie Black money, regardless of the amount, Maurice would be sent to take care of it by all means necessary. If Ronnie Black wanted someone dead, Maurice handled it without question. Ronnie Black had given Maurice the rank of a lieutenant and had promoted him to be in charge of his army.
Because of Maurice’s loyalty to Ronnie Black, when Maurice informed him that he wanted to get out of the game and go to the U.S. and start a new, straight life, Ronnie supported his desires. Not only did Ronnie Black arrange for Maurice a new identity and passport, but he had also given him two hundred and fifty thousand dollars cash to set himself up in something nice. Ronnie Black had also offered to supply Maurice with a couple kilos a month and a few of his men, but Maurice turned down his offer and told him that he was ready to get married, have kids, and be a family man.
“I’m finished with that life, man,” Maurice told Ronnie Black.
“You say that, but I don’t think so, man. A man doesn’t just walk away from having things his way, to a life that he knows nothing about. Here, you have your choice of bitches sucking you and fucking you, you have all the power you need here, and you have more money than you can spend here! Not in America! I respect your wishes, my man, but when the white man rejects you for a lousy fuckin’ job because of your dreadlocks, or any other fuckin’ race reject you because of where you’re from and who you are, you’ll see what the fuck I’m talkin’ about, man!” replied Ronnie Black.
Everyone in Jamaica feared Ronnie Black, even the police. Ronnie had lieutenants, sergeants, and even captains and chiefs on his payroll. He made it well worth their time to take care of any business that Maurice couldn’t. He was a reputable, notorious, wicked Jamaican who had no emotions and would kill quicker than the wink of an eye.
Once Maurice made it to the U.S., even though he had plenty of money, life just was not what he had anticipated. After purchasing a new Cadillac and a luxurious apartment in Inglewood, C
alifornia, Maurice then began seeking employment, but there was a slight problem to the employers about his appearance: the dreadlocks. He was stereotyped and rejected by everyone that interviewed him. He knew the problem was his hair, but under no circumstances, especially for any fucking job, was he going to cut them off.
After two months of being refused employment, Maurice had decided to go back into the drug game.
There was an area in Los Angeles that was referred to as Little Jamaica. An associate of Maurice’s named Slick Rick had schooled him on Little Jamaica and had shown him where it was. Numerous Jamaicans had migrated there, some with the intentions of living a better life, but the majority with the intentions to sell drugs and get rich quick.
When Maurice made his first appearance in Little Jamaica, he had run across three wicked men who had worked under his command in Ronnie Black’s army. Maurice wasted no time recruiting those men. He knew of their past and more so of their capabilities and loyalty to their leader.
The beginning of Maurice’s drug-dealing operation went well and was very profitable. Customers began coming from afar to buy his drugs, simply because his quantity and quality was the best thing around to win the favor of the addicts, and to steal his competitors’ clientele.
Within a couple months, Maurice’s operation had gotten so large that he was forced to hire more security. He had soon accumulated an armory of artillery and men who would not hesitate killing anyone. It was in their nature. The local drug dealers did not approve of someone who wasn’t from their neighborhood selling drugs on their turf, but they did not dare bother or confront anyone associated with Maurice’s operation.
Two addicts who had tried to beat Maurice out of some drugs were found dead. Witnesses said that both addicts had died after taking a hit of crack that had been personally given to them by Maurice. Rumor had it that Maurice had a particular batch of cocaine that was mixed with rat poison and cyanide that he kept for addicts who tried to cross him.