Heaven made her way out into the dayroom and retrieved a breakfast tray consisting of boiled eggs, hot cereal, and bread. Just as before, the officer was reading a book by the Plainfield author. This time, it was his title On the Run with Love.
Officer Garace looked up and smiled at Heaven. “Good morning,” she offered. Heaven nodded with a grin. Something about the officer’s eyes made Heaven feel that she was older in a mature way than she had given her credit for being earlier. They appeared to be a set of eyes that had experienced more than she was willing to tell. There was no doubt in her mind that the officer either had played in the streets at some point or knew people who had.
“Abrams, Reed, Carmen,” Officer Garace shouted. “Come get these trays if you’re eating.”
Heaven returned to her cell, woofed down her breakfast, and waited to be called out for court.
She was handcuffed to five females packed in the back of the Middlesex County Sheriff’s van like sardines in a can. Luckily for her, she was the last female to be handcuffed and the last to enter the back of the vehicle. On the opposite side of the transporting van separated by a metal gate were six male inmates. While the men struck up frivolous conversations with the other women, Heaven peered out the back of the van’s window as they traveled down Rt. 130 headed to the courthouse. Trailing a short distance behind was a Middlesex County Sheriff patrol car as an escort. All she could think about was getting bail so she could post it. She knew if the judge denied her, there was no telling when she’d see the streets of New Brunswick again—or any streets, for that matter. She had already told herself no matter what the ransom they give her, she intended to make bail, even if it meant going broke. She thought about the seven hundred twenty-five thousand she had stashed and the hundred-plus grand in product she possessed, and knew within the blink of an eye she would hand it all over for her freedom. From the house to the whips, she had already told herself she’d sacrifice it all, knowing that it was all replaceable and worthless without her freedom.
Once she saw the sign Livingston Avenue, she knew they were nearing the courthouse. Livingston turned into New Street, New Street into Kirkpatrick, then a right onto Paterson Street. The sheriff’s patrol car blocked the intersection of Kirkpatrick and Paterson Street as the van backed into the garage of the Middlesex County Courthouse building. One by one, the females bailed out of the back of the vehicle led by Heaven. One would have thought it was the Super Bowl the way the bullpens full of male inmates stood and posted up against the cell bars, climbing on top of one another’s backs catcalling, yelling, whistling, and cheering at Heaven and her handcuffed entourage that followed.
“Damn, that bitch in the front bad as hell,” Heaven heard one of the men tell another. She was tempted to reply by saying the woman who gave birth to him was a bitch but kept her composure.
“What’s ya name, ma?” another asked as she passed the next bullpen. Heaven ignored him and continued to follow the sheriff. She could hear some of the other females entertaining the attention the rude and disrespectful men were displaying. She was glad to be free of the metal bracelets and detached from the others. Heaven found her a spot in the corner to herself while the others congregated, speaking about their charges and hopes when their time to go before the judge came. Their conversation was interrupted by the first call that came from the bullpen of men across from them.
“Hey, baby,” Heaven heard the slim, light-skinned girl scurry to the bars and answer. She couldn’t help but hear the extent of the conversation. Within minutes, it was apparent to her the two jailhouse lovebirds were codefendants. Heaven shook her head and chuckled to herself. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the boyfriend wanted the young female to confess to their charges they were being held for so he could go free. She thought back to the time when she was so naïve, or rather a sucker for love, as she knew the girl was. She was tempted to intervene but knew it wasn’t her place or her business. Besides, she had her own problems, but she despised men like that girl’s boyfriend. It was because of cowards like him that she herself was in her own predicament she felt.
“Heavenly Jacobs,” the officer called out. Her thoughts were interrupted by the booming sound of her name being called.
“You’re going up,” the officer announced as he approached the holding cell.
The female who had occupied the bars brought her conversation to a halt and backed away so Heaven could step up. “Open up the inner female,” the officer ordered.
“Outter,” he followed up with as soon as he cuffed Heaven. Heaven’s eyes remained straight-ahead as she was escorted to the elevator. She ignored the comments and statements bouncing off the walls from the jailed men.
Right as she reached the officer waiting for her on the elevator, she heard one guy say, “Yo, that’s the broad Heaven that run them chicks on Seamen and Lee.”
Heaven paid the comment no mind. She could feel the husky, black, bald-headed officer’s eyes on her as the elevator climbed to its destination. Out of the corner of her left eye, she could see he was studying her. “Domestic case?” he asked.
“No,” she answered dryly, annoyed by the stereotype. If he only knew, she thought. The white officer kept his eyes on the elevator’s numbers. The elevator opened on the third floor. They all exited and made their way to the courtroom.
“Um,” the husky, bald-headed officer moaned in a low tone but not low enough as he trailed behind Heaven. She knew there was not anything she could do about his behavior, but in her mind, she had pictured using his own weapon to blow both his big bald head and his little head off for the disrespect he was displaying.
“Sit right there,” the white officer pointed, holding the door to courtroom 304. When Heaven entered, the first face she saw was Shell. Shell flashed her warm smile, and she returned it. Her lawyer offered a nod of the head from where he sat. Across from him was the prosecutor. On first sight, the tall, dark-haired, pale-skinned, clean-shaved-with-a-long-beak man looked like a dickhead racist to Heaven. The one look he did throw her way was one of disgust, she thought, with a smug expression on his face.
“All rise for the Honorable Judge Ferencz,” the bailiff announced.
“Please be seated,” the judge instructed.
Heaven had never heard of the presiding judge, but the red-faced-receding-hairline-Caucasian judge seemed to be a racist by the look of him, she thought. They all were, she figured. To her knowledge, Middlesex County was a prejudiced county, especially the judicial system. She heard enough stories and cases to know that there were two sets of laws in Middlesex County. The last time she was in, she had seen white offenders receiving slaps on their wrists for crimes that blacks and Latinos were routinely sent to prison for, despite their criminal records being similar, and sometimes, Caucasians being the worst offenders. Anyone from Middlesex County that ever had a brush with the law knew that whites were catered to and minorities were made examples of. Heaven knew her attorney had his work cut out for him.
“If I’m correct, this is a bail hearing,” the judge stated.
“Yes, Your Honor, Muhammad Bashir for the defendant,” Heaven’s lawyer stood up.
“Michael Weiss for the Middlesex County Prosecutors Office,” the prosecutor followed.
The judge skimmed through the papers before him. Heaven watched him carefully. By the way his eyebrows rose up and his eyes glanced over at her, she knew he had just discovered her charges.
“All right, Mr. Bashir, let’s hear it.” The judge extended his hand and gave Heaven’s attorney the floor.
Heaven listened as her lawyer argued her bail motion. The prosecutor’s facial expression changed with every argument while the judge remained motionless. When Attorney Bashir was done, the prosecutor stood with a stupid-looking smirk on his face. The judge offered the floor to him just as he had to Heaven’s lawyer. The prosecutor argued that Heaven was a flight risk, based on the severity of the charges and her criminal history. He also threw in what was told to him
by Detective Saleski stemming back to Earth’s death up until when he’d arrested her at Feaster Park. Still, the judge remained like a statue as he listened attentively. After the prosecutor rested, the judge spoke.
“It is the court’s decision after hearing both counsels that the bail request for Ms. Jacobs be denied.”
Heaven expected as much after hearing the prosecutor’s argument. Shell’s eyes looked like Heaven felt as she noticed the pain in them. Shell managed to put on a smile for her boss as she stood. Heaven read her lips just before they escorted her out of the courtroom. Her words were comforting, but she knew it was over for her. As she reentered the elevator, Heaven was already wondering what type of deal her lawyer would be able to get her. Twenty years if she was lucky, she thought, unless they linked Le Le’s and Murda’s deaths to her. She knew the bullet from her gun lodged in Chill’s body was enough to convict her of murder if she tried to take it to trial, and the testimony of the detective witnessing her shooting at Monty was more than enough to get her on attempted murder. The thought of it sickened her, knowing that the real culprit and one responsible for everything in the beginning had gotten away scot-free. Although she was no snitch, Heaven knew she would not be satisfied until Monty paid for what he had done—not with his freedom but with his life. Neither officer said a word as Heaven exited the elevator. The black, husky, bald-headed officer was still trying to digest the charges the fine-looking female was being held on.
Heaven was placed back into the female holding cell. She noticed none of the men made any comments as she passed. She also noticed none of the women had sat in the corner she had occupied prior to going up to the courtroom. All of the women stole looks in Heaven’s direction.
Heaven caught the stares but paid them no mind. She brushed them off as the women simply being nosy. A short, brown-skinned female passed Heaven and made her way to the open bathroom area opposite of where Heaven sat. She looked into the mirror, then took a sip of the faucet water. Heaven watched out of the corner of her eye, sensing there was more to the female’s trip to the bathroom area than just a drink of water.
“Fuck them,” Heaven calmly replied.
“I know that’s right,” the brown-skinned girl laughed. “That’s exactly how I feel. They hate on me too,” she added.
For the first time, Heaven looked in the girl’s direction. Her short haircut and tomboyish posture were dead giveaways that she was a gay female. She didn’t seem to be drugged out the way some of the other females appeared to be, thought Heaven.
“I knew ya peoples, Earth,” the girl announced, seeing the puzzled look on Heaven’s face. “That was my strip club partner,” she chuckled as she traveled down memory lane in her mind. “She was good peoples,” she then said returning to the present.
At the mention of Earth and strip club in the same sentence, Heaven realized the girl knew her friend. Despite the bad mood she was in, it put a smile on her face to hear someone speak about her road dawg in high regards. “Yeah, she was,” Heaven stated.
“You probably don’t remember, but we met before,” the girl said. Heaven took a long look, but the face didn’t register.
“Earth introduced us. We were at Jersey Girls in Elizabeth. She told you she was going to bring me on the team.” Her voice dropped seeing all eyes were now on them.
Heaven had only been in the exotic strip club once, and the incident appeared in her head as soon as the girl mentioned where they had met. Heaven remembered the girl who at the time looked just as much of a male hustler as Earth had that night with her fitted, leather, and baggy jeans. Heaven recalled that evening Earth and the brown-skinned girl had made it rain with over five hundred-dollars’ worth of singles for all shapes, sizes, and flavors of females. Although she couldn’t place her name, Heaven remembered Earth campaigning and vouching for how thorough of a female the girl was as a hustler and when it came to putting in work.
“What’s your name again?” Heaven asked.
“Anita.”
“Yeah,” Heaven nodded, not remembering.
“Did you ever find out what happened?” Anita asked, her tone now almost in a whisper.
“That’s why I’m here,” Heaven replied, not wanting to say too much.
“That’s what’s up,” Anita stated in admiration. Earth had let it be known on more than one occasion how close the two were. Anita remembered how Earth would always say how she’d die or kill for her partner Heaven. Anita realized that Heaven fell under the same creed.
“They ain’t got shit on me,” Anita changed the subject sensing that Heaven didn’t want to discuss her situation. “That punk-ass cracker Schuster said he saw me make a sale,” she spat. Heaven shook her head. She knew the name of the infamous narcotic’s officer. Paul Schuster was responsible for at least 95 percent of the drug arrests in New Brunswick. He had been trying to take down Earth and her for years but was unsuccessful. Heaven listened as Anita continued. “He didn’t find anything on me and didn’t lock no fiend up he supposed to had seen me serve.”
Her story sounded like so many arresting stories complementary of Paul Schuster, thought Heaven. He had been accused of every unlawful way to arrest someone, according to the streets, that you could think of, from planting evidence to falsifying reports. Heaven felt among the fortunate that she and her crew had never been tangled up in the narcotics officer’s web. She frowned and shook her head, realizing she was actually in the predicament she was in now behind another law enforcement officer who had a hard-on for arrests. Heaven still could not believe that Detective Saleski had been following her. She knew she probably wouldn’t be in jail now had it not been for that. She sensed the detective was going to be a problem the day he had come to question her at the hospital about the incident with her and Earth.
She wondered how long the homicide detective had been trailing her. Since she hadn’t been charged for murdering Le Le and Murda, that let her know that he hadn’t been following her the entire day. Then it dawned on her. Maybe he hadn’t been following her at all. Maybe he was already there when she arrived. It all made sense to her now. She drew the conclusion that Detective Saleski was not investigating her but a murder suspect, Monty, and she walked right into the line of fire.
She cursed herself at the strong possibility. Her thoughts were again interrupted by the boom of the officer’s voice. “Abrams!”
“That’s me,” Anita informed Heaven. As she exited the bullpen, Heaven laid her head against the concrete wall and closed her eyes.
The sound of metal caused her eyes to spring back open. Her neck was stiff from the position she had dozed off in. Once again, the sheriff sounded off with roll call. Hearing her name, Heaven stood and stretched, then made her way over to the bars where she was handcuffed. With the exception of one, all of the bullpens were empty of the male bodies from earlier. Heaven wondered how long she had been asleep. She knew court ended at 4:30 p.m., so it had to be at least close to five. A total of six females and six males followed behind one another as the sheriffs escorted them to the transporting van through the underground tunnel. Just as before, Heaven was cuffed first, making her the last to enter the back of the caged vehicle. She noticed the sheriff’s watch read 6:25 p.m. as he closed the back door.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Daytime had now been replaced by nightfall. The sheriff’s van traveled up Joyce Kilmer Avenue headed toward Rt. 130 as the sheriff patrol car followed. Soft rock music filled the back of the van, compliments of the transporting officers being tuned into the New Brunswick radio station 98.3 as the males and females chattered. As before, Heaven gazed out onto the city’s street through the back window in a world of her own. She could see silhouettes of bodies scattered throughout the all-too-familiar area as they passed both Comstock and Delavan Street just before they rode past Joyce Kilmer Park to her right. As the van hooked a left turn on to Stanford Avenue, Heaven was not surprised to see nearly fifty Mexicans gathered around the bodega while another twenty or so
congregated in front of the car lot on the corner. The van came to a sudden halt within seconds after turning on to Sandford Street.
Heaven knew they were at the traffic light that sat off Livingston Avenue. She braced herself as the van accelerated through the light. As she peered out the window, she noticed the distance the sheriff’s patrol car was trailing behind was more than usual, and thought it to be odd. She wondered why the vehicle seemed to be slowing down as she moved closer to the window. It didn’t dawn on her that the sheriff’s car had come to a complete stop until the van had pulled over and the light had turned red once again as the patrol car sat at the intersection. Between the darkness and the distance between them, Heaven could not get a clear visual down the street, but judging by the rapid movement of images, she knew something wasn’t right. By the time she was able to focus her eyes and make out what was taking place down the street, her head was slammed into the van’s gate from the sudden impact.
“Yeah, so my buddy convinces her to do both of us after the club is over, right?” the young Caucasian officer on the passenger side continues his latest wild excursion as they sit waiting for the light to change. The older Caucasian officer just shook his head and laughed the way he always did whenever his partner of three years shared one of his sexual excursions with him. Being a happily married man for twelve years and a proud father of five, he knew the closest he would ever come to taking a walk on the wild side again was through his partner’s stories. “So we wait for her after the club closes, right, and we get her to the car,” his tone increases. “And I shit you not, we don’t even make it out of the freakin’ parking lot before the chick reaches for my cock and starts blowing me,” he bellows in excitement.
“In the front seat?” the driver asks as he chuckles.
“No, I’m in the back with her. My buddy’s driving, but he can’t even get the goddamn car started ’cause he’s too busy watching her through the rearview. I mean, this chick is going to town, John,” he illustrates with the motion of his hand.
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