by Darrell King
As they drove deeper and deeper into the hood, the drug dealing became more evident and the number of fiends more numerous. The menacing looks of the Latin Kings street gang followed the Benz as it wound its way down the narrow cracked streets of “The Pearl.”
Dr. Edward Goddard began to think back about the decision of the U.S. Government to send him to Puerto Rico as he sat in the dark backseat of the Mercedes. His little sister, TaKeisha Smith, had asked that he not make the flight to Puerto Rico because she did not want him to miss her graduation from Bladensburg High School. But the medical and military officials at the World Health Organization and Fort Detrick insisted that he carry out the top-secret mission with which he’d been entrusted.
The young doctor was promised $100,000,000, his very own laboratory, recognition as a Professor of Epidemiology at Walter Reed Army Medical Hospital, as well as the financial support of the Center of Disease in Atlanta, GA and the National Institute of Health in Bethesda, Maryland for his efforts in the so-called “Inner City Experiment.” The offer given to him by Uncle Sam was too much for him to pass up … even if it meant using his own people as guinea pigs to close the deal.
As Dr. Goddard mulled over his future career and the fortunes that were sure to come his way after his mission was completed in Puerto Rico, he realized that they had not yet reached the spot. Where in the hell does this cat live? It seems as though we’ve been driving for hours through these projects, he thought from the backseat, while upfront the driver and his lovely lady friend bobbed their heads and shook their shoulders rhythmically to the reggaeton beats filling the car’s interior with a lively melody.
Minutes later as they pulled up to a part of the long narrow street that had been marked by a broad bright yellow line. The vehicle slowed to an even slower crawl before finally coming to a complete stop in the middle of the street. Soon a pair of headlights drew closer to them, accompanied by the thumping hip-hop lyrics of Big Pun and Fat Joe as the car came up the opposite side of LaPerla’s two-sided street.
“What going on? Why are we stopping and who’s in that truck?” demanded Dr. Goddard irritably.
Without answering the doctor at all, the driver put the Benz in park and exited from the driver’s side. Without hesitation, he spoke in broken Spanish to the occupants of the Land Rover and made a quick exchange of heroin for a handful of cash from the driver that brought a sigh of irritation and disgust from his American passenger.
The young drug dealer immediately returned to the vehicle and continued to drive along the street, but made several stops along the way in which to sell his illegal substances to customers who were more than willing to buy from him. At one point, while they rode down the seemingly unending streets, the driver stopped in a particularly dark, foreboding part of the barrio where resident youths played dice in the alley and on apartment stoops. Drunks and addicts wandered about aimlessly through the side streets and past corners, while Spanish chatter could be heard coming from the surrounding buildings and the residents within. The drug dealer and his girlfriend got out of the car without disclosing to Dr. Goddard the nature of their departure, nor when they would return. The two of them simply vanished into the shadowy darkness of the crime-infested barrio.
Ain’t this a bitch! I don’t believe this muthafucka just did this shit to me. First he’s stopping in the streets to make drug sales, and now he’s gonna just up and leave me by myself in this ghetto-ass neighborhood. This can’t be happening. The doctor was appalled.
No sooner had those thoughts of concern left Dr. Goddard did his worse fears began to materialize. Dozens of tough looking Puerto Rican youths arose from the stoops and alleys of the barrio and made their way toward the shiny red Benz parked along the lonely dark street. As they approached, several of the lead hoods cracked their knuckles while others could be seen brandishing switchblade knives or metal pipes. They threatened the doctor in broken Spanish, daring him to make a run for his life as the multitude marched onward like some thugged out platoon.
“Help! Somebody! Please! I'm about to be robbed. Help me! Please, somebody! Please somebody, anybody!” The doctor cried out as the hooligans neared the parked car, continually hurling threats and insults toward him as they pressed on.
Suddenly three thunderous gunshots rang out in close proximity. Three of the bandanna-wearing boys dropped to the ground, writhing horribly in agony as their blood spattered the dirty pavement below. Their friends stood frozen in fear as they looked down the still smoking barrel of the drug dealer’s nine millimeter as their three partners-in-crime slowly died on the cold street in front of them.
"You lil’ Chamaquitos are so stupid! You know the rule!” yelled the gun-wielding Vato. “You need to respect the fuckin’ line or else you’ll get your dumb ass killed. Si? This Americano here is mi amigo, you hear? And nobody but nobody is gonna do nothin’ to him. Now take your dead homies and get the fuck back across the line over to your side of the barrio. Rapido! Rapido!”
Dr. Goddard was both shocked and relieved by the sudden return of the driver and his girlfriend. And though the retribution visited on the marauding youths was swift and incredibly brutal, the doctor could not have been more indebted to the drug dealer for showing up when he did. The American visitor was too overwhelmed with disbelief to thank his driver, but he didn’t have to. The drug dealer knew he’d be forever grateful for having had his life spared from the street gang.
Once again, they were on the move. The slums of LaPerla eventually gave way to a radiant and lush valley in which a flowing waterfall splashed into a sparkling turquoise blue forest lagoon. Beyond that, a large eggshell-white doublewide mobile home stood defiantly among the palm groves and jungle orchids rising amidst the tangled mangrove vines of San Juan’s rainforest. Dr. Goddard knew that at last they had reached their long awaited destination–the home of Lucien “Baby Don” Valentino.
Chapter 3
Nationwide, heterosexual black women are contracting HIV, the virus that causes AIDS, at a significantly higher rate than any other demographic group in the United States. Most of the HIV/AIDS cases involving African American women have come almost exclusively through heterosexual intimacy.
As the Mercedes Benz pulled into the cobblestone driveway of the enormous trailer, the doctor could hardly believe his eyes at the beauty of the surrounding property. A neatly manicured English-garden graced the four acres of fenced in land encircling the mobile home. Dr. Goddard assisted the drug dealer in removing his luggage from the trunk, all the while gazing at the huge area. He took in the lotus blossom-covered fish pools filled with Japanese Koi swimming about in lazy circles beneath the dark waters of the man-made ponds, then he noticed the banana-laden palms lining the walkway leading to the steps of Valentino’s home. After five minutes, the young Puerto Rican Vato and his shapely Amiga wished the good doctor well and bid him farewell as they drove through the open gates and back up the dark jungle path toward the crowded slums of LaPerla.
Two young kids, no older than eleven or twelve, raced down the brightly lit walkway and quickly picked up Dr. Goddard’s baggage and walked with them back up the long cobblestone-covered walkway. Dr. Goddard lifted the last two suitcases and carried them slowly toward the distant doorway at the end of the path. Once he’d reached the doorway, a tall, handsome, well-groomed young man in his late twenties approached him.
“C’mon in, playa. I been up for hours waitin’ around here for you to arrive.” The host answered graciously, extending his hand to greet the doctor.
“Don Valentino, we’ve met at last. I must say that it is indeed a pleasure,” Dr. Goddard exclaimed to the ex-U.S. soldier as he clasped the hand of his host in a firm shake.
“Don’t even mention it, dawg. Come on in and make yourself at home. I know you been driving damn near all day just to get here, so I had my peeps hook something up for you to snack on. After that you can crash out back, up in the guest room, if you want. The bed’s already made and waitin’ for you, cau
se I know you gotta be tired as hell right about now.”
“Thank you very much. You must’ve read my mind, Don Valentino,” the doctor replied as he entered into the semi-darkened living room of the trailer.
“C’mon with all o’ that Don Valentino bullshit, doc. Just call me Valentino or “Loverboy,” whichever one you feel most comfortable with, awiight? I’ll help you take your bags to the guestroom so you can unpack, wash up and what not. I’ll see you back in the dining room when you get finished.”
“I appreciate your hospitality, Don … I mean Valentino,” the doctor stated, while following the young man down the long hallway and into the bedroom located at the end.
Once he’d settled into the spacious well-furnished bedroom, the doctor unpacked his belongings, organized himself, took a refreshingly hot shower, dressed for bed and proceeded from the guestroom toward the dining area where a hearty seafood dinner of blackened sea bass, scallops, yellow rice and freshly tossed salad awaited him. A vintage bottle of 1922 Chablis white wine sat in between the silver trays of delicious smelling food. A mouth-watering aroma filled the entire room in which the two men sat.
“Tomorrow I will go over with you in full detail the particulars of the study along with the government approved benefits package you’ll be receiving for participating in the program itself,” said Doctor Goddard as he began to enjoy the succulent meal placed before him.
“Before you even flew in from the Mainland, I’d already received both an email and an official letter from Fort Detrick concerning the medical study. So don’t worry about goin’ over nothin’. I just wanna get started with the shots, cause the sooner I get cleared of the virus, the better I’ll feel,” the ex-U.S. soldier said as he poured himself and Doctor Goddard a glass of sparkling Chablis.
Suddenly, the unmistakable clatter of submachine gunfire rat-a-tat-ed just beyond the gates, broke the silence of the still night.
“Don’t be alarmed, Doc. That’s just my lil’ ole chamaquitos out there, that’s all. Ya see, Doc, I got a couple acres of reefer and a couple acres of poppy plants growing on the outskirts of the jungle, right? So every now and then some dumb ass will come sneakin’ around tryin’ to cuff some o’ my shit. I can’t have muthafuckas stealin’ my shit. Know what I mean? I work too hard to keep my reefer and poppy fields growin’ well and producing quality dope.” Valentino spoke with pride. “Ya see, I couldn’t live like this on my lil’ weak-ass veteran’s pension I get each month from Uncle Sam, not even down here in Puerto Rico where damn near everybody ‘cept the dope pushers is broke as fuck. I sell “Boy” and weed, and plenty of it, cause I enjoy luxury and fly bitches way too much to ever walk around with short money. Besides, when you got that “monster” like I do, all that HIV medication, like AZT and shit, get damn expensive, ya know? No wonder half o’ Africa is dead or dyin’ o’ this shit, cause most o’ them is poor black folks, that’s why. Well, it ain’t happenin’ to the “Loverboy.” That’s why I stay on my grind, feel me?” the debonair drug dealer concluded.
Doctor Goddard nodded in agreement. “I definitely understand.”
Valentino lit a Cuban cigar and took a puff after biting off a plug from the rear of the aromatic, sun-cured stogy. He exhaled a thick white smoke ring that disappeared beneath the whirling blades of the overhead ceiling fan. He then rose up from the dinner table to pace the dining room floor.
“Ya see, Doc, I was born and raised down in Hampton Roads, Virginia. I’m no stranger to the hood. Know what I mean? So I enlisted in the Navy right after I graduated from high school in ’86 to earn a career, not knowin’ that I’d be overseas fightin’ Iraqis during the Gulf War in the early nineties. So my early days growin’ up in the projects and my military training allowed me to carve out a livin’ as a pretty successful hustler down here in Puerto Rico, right next door to LaPerla where ya gotta go hard in order to get and keep respect as well as to stay alive. I don’t hardly play around when it comes to makin’ this money, that’s why I’m called ‘El Don’ around here … cause I earned that title through years of sweat, blood and tears down here in the Pearl. Trust me.”
He continued: “Now I gotta lay down a few house rules for you while you hang out here with me at the crib, awiight, Doc?” Valentino didn’t wait for a reply as he continued. “Awiight, check it; you’re more than welcome to anything in my home … food, dope, whatever, everything ‘cept the little trailer out back in the yard about fifteen or twenty yards to the rear of this one. You’ll see it during the day. It’s a little blue and white single wide … that’s all. Nothin’ fancy, just a little spot for my payin’ customers to go shoot up or get their fuck on with a coupla my lil’ hoes I got stayin’ up in there. Oh yeah, I pimp bitches too. You ain’t know? A nigga gots to have mo’ than one hustle, Doc. On Wall Street they call it diversifyin’ your portfolio.”
Valentino chuckled as the doctor sat, listening intensely. “Anyway, Doc, other than havin’ you hook my lil’ Latinas up with some o’ that AIDS cure shit, cause as much dick as I’ve put in them lil’ trick bitches, I know for damn sho’ they got that virus ‘cause I don’t use no raincoats. Never have…never will. Stay the fuck from around there, awiight? Cause I gots plenty fiends comin’ and goin’ all day and all night ‘round that joint and ain’t no tellin’ what they might pull on you if you happen to wander around there without me there to watch your back. Besides, my girls are all young and sexy as hell, and trust me, they know how to work a nigga. Before you know it, they’ll drain your ass dry of both your cum and your money. So don’t sleep on them bitches, unless you wanna get burnt and fuck around and come up positive. Remember, I’m lookin’ out for you, dawg … just like you ‘bout to look out for me.”
Valentino smiled at the Army doctor as he slowly walked over to an open window and peered out into the humid darkness of the surrounding rainforest.
The doctor finally spoke. “You need not worry about me snooping around your property, Valentino, because as scenic as your particular oasis here in Old San Juan is, I must remind you that I’m here on an official government assignment, and believe you me, I’ll have no time in which to waste Uncle Sam’s money on seeking out cheap thrills,” Doctor Goddard responded earnestly.
For more than 45 minutes, the two men drank heartily and touched on various topics about their military careers, places in which they’d both traveled and other subjects which related to service in the U.S. military. Dr. Goddard detailed his very unsettling trip through the heart of La Perla.
“Man, Doc, my bad … I’m sorry that you had to experience all o’ that thugged out shit, but hey, that’s just the way it is down here in the Pearl, baby. Half o’ these cats ain’t eatin’ right. The economy here in Puerto Rico is so fucked right now that dudes gotta hustle just to keep their heads above water, dawg. Somethin’ like two thirds of the island’s whole fuckin’ population is on some kinda welfare and what not, even the middle class folks bring in no more than fifteen or sixteen hundred dollars a year! Not a month, my nigga … a year! And all these years the military been down here using this island as a naval base, Washington ain’t done shit to help these poor folks out one bit. No wonder muthafuckas is takin’ to the streets on some hardcore gangsta-ballin’ shit. Cause, dawg … Puerto Ricans is tired o’ getting’ shitted on just like every other hood on the mainland U.S. ‘Cept I doubt if any hood on the mainland go as hard as these thirsty-ass Vatos down here in The Pearl, Doc. These cats is off the chain with that grimy gutter shit. Trust me … I know,” Valentino said, taking a light drag on his cigar.
“Why doesn’t the public demand that their civic leaders improve the island’s overall standard of living?” Goddard asked while piling on a second helping of seafood onto his partially empty plate.
“What civic leaders? More like crooks if you ask me. Most of the politicians out here is in the drug cartels’ back pockets. If you don’t already know, Colombia ain’t nothin’ but 360 miles away. That ain’t nothing but a hop, skip and jump for th
e big boys to drop off ‘birds’ on Puerto Rican soil either by air or sea. Commercial flights to and from the mainland U.S. come in and out of Puerto Rico every day. Dozens and dozens of flights come and go every hour. The cartels ain’t worried bout getting’ them birds passed through customs, ‘cause the island is an official U.S. territory. So most o’ the time packages comin’ from here ain’t checked again once it ends up on the mainland. So the Colombian cartels send something like a hundred and some tons o’ blow over here a year. They give the Puerto Rican politicians a nice little cut of the profits and everybody’s happy. So why should they change?”
Dr. Goddard shook his head dejectedly and said, “That’s very unfortunate, Valentino.”
“Look, enough about all of that shit. Ain’t nothin’ we can do bout that no way. What I wanna know ‘bout is what’s up with the cycles of shots I gotta take and about the government benefits I’m gonna be entitled to after I go through with this experiment.”
Dr. Goddard agreed with Valentino’s request and began disclosing further details of the experiment dubbed “Operation: Inner City Virus,” in which Federal money would be doled out in monthly stipends to Lucien Valentino. In addition, Dr. Goddard’s own personal request would be met, and Valentino would take over the position as leasing consultant of a Landover, Maryland housing project called “Brightseat Gardens Apartments.” where he’d live rent free for his services.
“So, you tellin’ me that as long as I take injections of Biomax Officinalis every two weeks, my HIV will never turn into full blown AIDS? Shit that’s what’s up! And you got me a place and everything back in the States too, huh? Cool … but why can’t I stay down here in Puerto Rico while you cats do whatever it is you gotta do for me?” Valentino inquired of the doctor.
