Cartier Cartel

by Nisa Santiago

  it Momma was the next to be interviewed. She had a different public defender, a young white lady, who looked equally as young as Shanine's attorney. The difference between the two attorneys was Lil Momma's attorney didn't say a word.

  When the lead detective repeated his opening line for Lil Momma, she started talking before he could get the words out of his mouth.

  "If you asking me, it was Cartier," Lil Momma volunteered. And if she did it, then Monya was her right-hand man, 'cause those two don't do shit alone:'

  "Why Cartier and not Monya?" the second detective asked.

  "Monya is scared of her own shadow," Lil Momma went on. "Cartier has the heart and the strength to overpower Donnie. And the night he was murdered I could just tell that Cartier knew something."

  "What you mean you could tell?" the lead detective asked. "Did you ask her?"

  "Nah, I didn't ask her 'cause me and that trifling bitch ain't speaking."

  "So you're not down with her crew no more?" the second detective asked.

  "That's what I just said," Lil Momma said with attitude.

  "Do you think you could get her to admit she killed Donnie?" the lead detective jumped in.

  "Didn't I just say that we ain't speaking?"

  "I'm sure you're a clever girl ... you do realize Cartier is your get out of jail free card. If you roll on her and give us the evidence we need, then you get to go home."

  "How come y'all coming to us?" she surprisingly asked. "If you had enough evidence to charge all of us with murder, then where the fuck is it at? I don't want to be just sitting in jail while y'all deciding my future. That shit is fucked up, especially when y'all know me and Shanine ain't have shit to do with no murder."

  "Well, our snitch tells us differently," the lead detective explained. "And it's up to you to prove that wrong. So if I were you, I'd be thinking of ways to be back cozy with my former boss-"

  "That bitch was never my boss!" Lil Momma exclaimed.

  onya rolled into the interrogation room in a wheelchair. She was lethargic and weak. She was on a hunger strike and scared out of her wits. Most days she didn't know if she was coming or going. It didn't take much to realize she was the weakest link.

  The detectives decided to play the odds and see if they could break Monya to turn on her best friend, Cartier. Unfortunately for Monya, she had the same good for nothing attorney that Lil Momma had. The detectives knew any other attorney would have prevented Monya from even being in the room with them. Luck was on their side. Better yet, manipulation was on their side. They had convinced someone they knew in the PD's office to assign the young, dumb attorney Monya's case.

  "We know you did it!" the lead detective yelled in Monya's face.

  "I didn't do anything," she pleaded.

  "You took a kitchen knife and plunged it into his back to take revenge for your friend, Bam." The detective was relentless. "Just tell us and we'll reduce the charges from first degree murder to manslaughter. You'll do seven to fifteen and be out in five years with good behavior." "

  I can't do five years in jail!" Monya shouted.

  "Then tell us what happened," the second detective said in a low tone. He was playing good cop to his partner's bad cop.

  "Look, Monya, if you work with them they will help you," the young attorney volunteered.

  "You're my lawyer, bitch! You're supposed to be helping me!" Monya looked at the young attorney with fire in her eyes.

  "Tell us who fucking killed Donnie!" the lead detective yelled again. "Save yourself, because Cartier is already saving herself."

  "Cartier?" Monya said in a low tone. She was confused and on the edge. What's going on? was her only thought.

  "Yes, she's the smart one," the good cop chimed in.

  "What did she tell you?" Monya asked. Just that quickly her demeanor had changed from fighter to weakling.

  "Way more than you're telling us," the good cop stated.

  Monya looked down at her hands and realized they were shaking. She wondered if Cartier could have betrayed her trust and told them who really killed Donnie. Monya was so confused. Could Cartier really fold under pressure and snitch Monya out after she had saved Cartier's life? Monya figured if Cartier did snitch her out, then she would tell them that Cartier helped. She wasn't going to take the rap by herself. Her head was pounding and she felt faint. She hadn't eaten in days and was living off a couple cups of water everyday. She barelyhad the strength to think properly. She weighed her options on snitching out Cartier and giving herself up. Her better judgment told her to wait until she spoke to Cartier to see what the real deal was. What if these motherfuckers are playing mind games with me?

  "I want to go back to the infirmary," was the next thing out of her mouth.

  The two detectives tried their best to break Monya and it didn't work. She wanted to talk to Cartier first. Her attorney even tried to weigh in and Monya told her to go to hell on a fast plane. After another thirty minutes, the detectives gave up for now, but promised Monya they would be back and be back soon.

  he next morning, Monya was transferred back to her cell. She was dying to speak to Cartier. When she was told Cartier had been released, she passed out on the spot.

  Cartier was happy to be released. She didn't know why and didn't give a damn, as long as she was free. She ran to Monya's house, expecting Monya to be home waiting on her. When Janet told her Monya hadn't called saying she was being released, Cartier didn't understand what was happening. Had Monya confessed to the crime? Had the police got into her psyche? Jason warned her, but she couldn't get to Monya in the infirmary to brief her. Panic sunk in. Cartier didn't know what to do. She called looking for Shanine and Lil Momma, but they weren't home either. She definitely didn't get it now.

  As the days passed by, the neighborhood began to call Cartier a snitch. She heard the whispers, but chose to ignore them. She had to wait until visiting hours to see what was up. Even Trina and Janet had words over what was going on. It wasn't long before their thirty-something years of friendship ended.

  At the first opportunity, Cartier went to visit Monya. She needed to speak to her friend face-to-face to see what was going on. She got there early and when Monya came walking out, her naturally slim frame was almost skeletal. Cartier was mortified. The glare, coupled with the hurt in Monya's eyes, spoke volumes.

  "Well, well, look who's here," Monya began. "How does freedom feel?"

  "Monya, I don't know what's going on or why they turned me loose," Cartier leaned forward in her seat to explain. "'That's why I'm here ... people are calling me a snitch."

  "And I'm one of them," Monya said with venom in her voice.

  "What?"

  "You heard me, bitch," Monya stated. "I'm sitting in this jail rotting away! Why did they let you go unless you told them what they wanted to hear?"

  "I swear on my father's grave that I didn't tell them anything!" Cartier's voice sounded desperate. She really didn't know what was going on and was surprised her best friend thought she would sell her out.

  "Liar!" Monya shouted.

  "Why would I he to you? You're my best friend and I've done nothing but try to protect you all my life. I wouldn't abandon you when you needed me most."

  "What do you call leaving me in jail on a murder case then? Donnie wouldn't be dead if it weren't for you," Monya spat. "I took his life to save yours!"

  Cartier had to agree with her friend. Had Monya not took that butcher's knife and plunged it deep into Donnie's back, there isn't a doubt in her mind that he would have killed her that night in the alley.

  "Monya I know you did but I didn't ask you to."

  Monya was furious at Cartier's cavalier response. At this point she no longer trusted her friend.

  "I better not find out that you've crossed me!" Monya threatened. "There isn't a reason good enough to explain why I'm in here and you're out there."

  "They're playing us... I can't understand their logic, but they're playing us"

  Monya shook
her head from side to side and then collapsed her face in her hands on the table. She began sobbing hysterically. "I'm gonna kill myself ! I can't live like this ... I won't make it!"

  The more Cartier had to comfort her, the more Monya screamed, repeating the same line, "I'm gonna kill myself!" Their visit was cut short and tears fell from Cartier's eyes as Monya was dragged away kicking and screaming. She watched helplessly as her best friend was carted off back to the infirmary.

  Cartier went home in a fit of nerves. The morning's event kept replaying in her head. When a week went by and Shanine and Lil Momma were released, Cartier heard Monya tried to commit suicide. The jailhouse nurse pumped her stomach after she took a handful of antibiotics.

  Janet was a nervous wreck. After that incident, she and Trina began speaking again. Trina convinced her that the cops were playing the girls against each other and Cartier hadn't snitched on Monya.

  As each day passed, Cartier got the report that Monya was withering away in jail. She reflected on recent events and how the Cartel ended up in such bad shape. She was the leader, the most vocal one. She remembered Lil Momma getting knocked, because she, as the leader, was the first one to get greedy for an extra mink. Thoughts and past events beat Cartier up throughout the day and night. She felt that she had failed badly as the leader of the Cartel. But the thought that kept beating her up was, How can I lead anyone into battle, when I should be standing on the front line?

  Sleep was hard. She tossed and turned every night. She slept better in jail. I abandoned the Cartel when they needed me most. Each fucked up decision, from boosting to selling drugs, was my call. And what do we have to show for it? Not a damn thing. The Cartel has dismantled and my best friend is locked up on a murder beef

  Cartier had heard similar stories of guys that got themselves in a fix like this. But she thought they were smarter, younger and would always fly under the radar. But how can you fly under the radar when you like the limelight? And she did. She entered a world she was unfamiliar with, on a mission to prove she and her girls could hang with the big boys. Just like Queen Latifah, Jada Pinkett, and Vivica Fox did in the movie, Set It Off. But this isn't a movie, is it? She realized that the only thing the Cartel and the girls in that movie had in common was maybe an unhappy and empty ending.

  When morning rolled around, Cartier got up early, kissed Prada on her cheek, took a long look at her mother, and left.

  She realized she was going to grow up overnight.

  artier and her lawyer, Nicholas Aponte, walked into the 83rd Precinct ready to make a deal if one was still on the table. She wanted to plead guilty in exchange for Monya's freedom. Cartier reasoned she would be a better candidate to do the jail time than her best friend.

  "Are you sure you want to do this?" Nicholas Aponte asked for the last time before going into the Brooklyn assistant district attorney's office to negotiate for his client. He looked at the young, fearless girl and felt empathy for her. He knew she felt she was strong enough to handle what was coming her way. But the fact still remained that a man lost his life and someone had to pay for the senseless murder.

  "If my client has information about the Donald Williams murder, what's on the table?" Aponte asked Michael Washington, the ADA for the Brooklyn Borough.

  "What information does she have?" the chocolate skinned attorney asked.

  "She has information that it was self-defense."

  "We're not buying that," ADA Washington said as he sat back in his chair. "A man was stabbed in the back and in anyone's mind that's murder."

  "But he was trying to-" Cartier tried to say.

  "Cartier, let me handle this," her lawyer, Nicholas Aponte, cut her off.

  "If my client cops to this, we want man three. She's out in five years:"

  "No way!" the ADA leaned forward. "The evidence is saying first degree murder. If she pleads, then we won't seek the death penalty."

  "Come on, Michael," Aponte began. "Let's be serious and stop the dramatics. It's only us three in here. Regardless of what you say or how much you try to scare my client, the facts are the facts. You and I both know no jury will ever convict her on the flimsy evidence you have. Plus, you are talking about one of the biggest drug dealers in Brooklyn. Hell, the right jury may actually let her go and you know that. And remember, there are three other girls who could be suspects as well as rival drug dealers and don't forget, your murdered drug dealer almost beat another young lady to death, and for all you know, one of her family members got revenge. So let's talk real, Michael, and stop showcasing when the cameras are not rolling."

  ADAMichael Washington didn't like the way the white attorney, Nicholas Aponte, was talking to him in front of the young black girl. He wanted respect. He didn't live in the world of sympathy for his people. He thought the way he worked his way out of Queens to become a successful attorney, they could do the same. Instead, many of his people turned to drugs and stealing.

  After a couple of minutes of silence, Nicholas Aponte signaled to Cartier to rise. "We'll take our chances with a jury of our peers. I'll petition the court for a speedy trial, I'll have my connections at the papers run story after story of the lives Donnie Williams ruined, and make sure they mention how a beautiful young lady nicknamed Bam had a promising future and instead, she will never be able to walk upright or speak clearly again. Plus, look into case law, Aiello versus New York State. She'll walk, Michael. I guarantee you that."

  Aponte and Cartier headed toward the door before ADA Washington relented.

  "The best we could do is second degree murder, Nick," Washington stated. "Take it or leave it:"

  "We'll leave it, Michael," Aponte replied. "Come on, Cartier."

  As Aponte reached for the door, the ADA stopped him. "Hold on a moment, let me speak to the district attorney."

  artier was dressed nicely as she sat next to Nicholas Aponte. She appreciated his efforts in getting her a deal. She wished she could have done things his way. He had assured her he could get them all off, without spending any time in jail or prison. But it meant Monya would have spent two to six more months in jail and Cartier couldn't take that. She knew it was only a matter of time before Monya confessed and then Monya probably would have received a life sentence, or worst, a death sentence. It wasn't a chance Cartier was willing to take.

  As Cartier sat in the courtroom, she kept telling herself that she was doing the right thing. That she was taking one for the team. She knew she was fortunate; Nicholas Aponte had gotten her a sweet deal: five to fifteen years and she would be out in three and a half with good behavior. The only stipulation was she had to stand up in open court and give an allocution, admit her guilt, and tell what actually happened in open court.

  "I was standing outside alone on my stoop when Donnie pulled up to the curb," Cartier began nervously explaining. She felt as if her insides were about to explode. "He sat in his car for a long time, before jumping out and running toward me. I was nervous so I ran. I ran into the alley and Donnie gave chase. In the alley, he and I began fighting, and he was getting the best of me. I tried to get away and tripped over a rock, and he fell on top of me. At that moment, I played as if I was knocked unconscious. Donnie pulled out his gun to shoot me, but something must have spooked him, because he spun around to see if someone was coming. That's when I pulled a large kitchen knife from out of my jacket that I carried for protection and stabbed him in his back. I didn't want to kill him. I only wanted to get away. I wanted to live. If I didn't stab him, he would have shot me."

  As Cartier told her story, low sobbing was heard throughout the courtroom, coming from Pebbles, Donnie's mother, and other family members. For some of his family members, it was a bittersweet moment. They knew he was out there terrorizing the streets, and was possibly either heading to jail or the grave. The grave won. Donnie's mother prayed for him each night and hoped he would get out of the game before the game snatched him out. She also felt sorry for Cartier. The young girl had ruined her life all because her bully-o
f-a-son wanted the corner. She glanced over at the young girl's mother and realized they both were losing their children, only in different forms.

  As the bailiff handcuffed Cartier and began to lead her into the back, Cartier took one last look over her shoulder and mouthed the words to her mother, "I love you."

  "Keep your head up!" her mother replied.

  "We gonna hold it down," Monya yelled, as others yelled and shouted, before the judge called for order in the courtroom.

  Cartier looked at Monya-the weak link. She knew she had done the right thing. Monya had saved her life.

  In her mind, this was day one. She just hoped she could do the next three and a half years standing on her head.

  artier knew the key to doing her time was staying focused on her future. She enrolled in the GED program and scored 265 on her test, which made her feel as though she'd accomplished something. She felt bad for dropping out of high school now. When she received her diploma, with her name written in large script letters, she felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility. She made a promise to herself that when she got out, there was no way she would allow her sister, Prada, to travel the same paths in life she'd taken. She wanted to be a good role model to her younger sister.

  By the next September, Cartier had enrolled in the prison's two-year college associate's degree program. She was disappointed the state had gotten rid of the bachelor's degree program due to budget cuts. She didn't understand why people had a problem with inmates getting a free education while incarcerated. As she rose out of bed, Cartier was eager to see her mother, Prada, and Monya. The first Saturday of each month, which was when Trina received her check, was the Timmonses visiting day. Trina would leave money on Cartier's commissary account before she left and often brought recent pictures of the family for Cartier to see. Trina had changed. This whole experience had turned her into a better, more responsible parent to both Cartier and Prada. At least twice per week, Trina would write Cartier, and send her books and cards with inspirational messages enclosed.