by Amir Sanchez
“Damn, Connie, didn’t you tell Trish on a visit to let them crazy-ass fucking boys know to pipe down?” asked Consuela.
“Bitch, you know them hardheaded-ass niggas ain’t trying to hear what nobody got to say,” replied Connie as she brushed her teeth and washed her face.
“Well, we can’t afford to have the feds’ eyes on the boys. We damn near at the fucking door, yet they still out here killing shit. It’s about time we made an OG call and reach out to someone that we can trust and show them what this life and hustling shit is really all about,” said Consuela. Connie agreed.
Before stepping out of their cell, they discussed the matter at hand and came up with a well thought of solution. From the very beginning, their connect, Curtis “Black” Campbell, remained loyal and gave them his 100 percent support. He always reminded them that they were his heroes, and if ever they should need him for anything, to never hesitate to reach out. Today, they decided to cash in on that favor. In the feds, all personally placed phone calls were monitored and recorded. The only way around it was to place a legal call to your attorney. These calls were unmonitored. Client-attorney privilege. This was how the twins communicated their criminal activities. Upon placing their call, all it took was the mention of their last name. The receptionist acknowledged them immediately. After a brief conversation, she was connected to her attorney, Ken Edelin. Hands down, he was one of the best criminal attorneys around. “Courtroom Bully.” was his well-earned nickname.
“Is this my girls? How you girls been in there?” he inquired.
“Hey, Ken. We’ve been good for the most part. We got a few months left before we go to a halfway house. But that’s not the reason why I called,” Connie explained.
“Well, what is it? Anything for you girls.”
“Ken, I need you to reach out to Black and tell him I need him to take my son and nephews under his wing. They got a lot of learning to do, and I don’t know a better teacher than him. Lastly, mention to him that he takes full responsibility for their successes, while I take full responsibility for any fuckups. Express to him that I’ll be forever in debt to him for his intervention if he decides to accept my proposal,” she explained.
“I’ll have him stop by my office immediately. Don’t worry a hair on your pretty little head. I’ll make sure this matter is addressed ASAP. Is there anything else I can do for my favorite girls in the whole world?”
“No, that’s it, Ken. Good looking. We’ll make sure to be in touch,” Consuela assured him before hanging up.
After placing the call, they both felt a sense of relief, confident that Black would consider their request and likely make good on his word. Here was a man of great character. Extremely powerful. Very influential. Best of all, he was highly connected, pushing keys since the eighties. Their only concern was how dangerous he was. And how wild and reckless their kids were. Could be a bad mix . . . Here was a man that managed to stay off the radar for years. He was once arrested by the feds for gun possession. However, the case was later dismissed for insufficient evidence. Behind closed doors, he ran and ruled the city with an iron fist. But in the eyes of the general public, he was a successful businessman.
For years he supplied the twins. They were his top customers, and they had a serious history together. Knowing how dirty the federal system worked, he was aware that the twins could have easily mentioned his name and made things easier on them. But they didn’t. Although it was expected of them to stand tall, Black still praised them for it, and it was one of the main reasons he remained loyal. The twins felt comfort knowing Black would soon be looking after their boys. They questioned why they hadn’t thought of asking him years ago.
Somewhere in West Philly
Driving through the hood in his black LS 450 Lexus, Black stared around the streets of his childhood neighborhood with disgust and disappointment. He felt proud of himself for getting out and becoming the successful man that he had become. Abandoned homes, crack addicts, fast-food restaurants, and liquor stores plagued the community. Most of the people he observed seemed hopeless, content, and poor. Sure, he could have contributed his hand in fixing it up and helping people in need out. However, most of them were customers of his workers, and in his mind, they weren’t worthy of anything other than the drugs he prescribed. In his line of work, compassion and regrets were a weakness. Something he couldn’t be or do. The ringing of his cell phone broke him out of the trance he was in and brought him back to reality. Ken Edelin? What the fuck his greedy ass want? he wondered before answering.
“Ken! The motherfucking ‘devil’s advocator.’ I hope you ain’t calling me with no bad news.”
“No, nothing like that. Got a message for you. However, I’d rather discuss it with you personally if you’re not too busy.”
“All right. I’m in the area now. Give me about fifteen minutes,” replied Black before disconnecting the call.
Black was the biggest thing coming out of Philadelphia. Previously and presently, he was a ruthless dictator. Boss, gangster, puppetmaster, and moneymaker were just a few words to describe the kind of man that he was. He walked and carried himself with pride. Standing at six foot four and weighing in at a solid 230 pounds of muscle, no one dared to ever go against him. His rich chocolate complexion, chiseled face, and almond-shaped eyes made many women chase after him. But one look into those almond eyes and you’d immediately see why he was feared by many. They say the eyes are the window to a person’s soul, but Black was the exception. Looking into his eyes, you were met with a cold, sinister stare.
Having grown up in the streets all of his life, he had an arrogance about him, and people had no choice but to respect it. His parents, both crackheads, doped themselves to death when Black was just twelve years old. Black was lucky they hadn’t killed him as a baby because they were addicts for as long as he could remember. He grew up living in an abandoned house with his parents. Then one morning when they never made it “home,” he went looking for them and found them dead in an alley. He didn’t bother to report it because he knew they’d put him into the system. He walked away without even looking back, leaving their bodies there for someone else to discover. He started from the bottom as a “lookout” boy, and he put in that work until he got to the top. As he made his way up, he learned the hard way not to trust people, even if they say they got your back. The only person he trusted was himself. If you weren’t with Black, he automatically considered you an enemy.
He worked his ass off to get to where he was, and he didn’t dare to ever let his guard down and have someone take it from him. Philadelphia was his city. Through blood, sweat, and tears, he most certainly had earned his spot. Murder, extortion, dealing, robbery—whatever it took—nobody was going to knock him off his pedestal. With each day he remained in power, he got more powerful. Each dollar built riches.
Thirty minutes after receiving the call from Ken, Black was walking through his office door. Ken briefed him about the phone call he received from the twins. Black sat back in the seat and registered everything he just heard. The twins were basically asking him to be a babysitter to some wild-ass juveniles. He’d heard and known about the Santana boys for a while now. Unbeknownst to them, he had been keeping track of them ever since their mothers had been picked up. The only reason he hadn’t had his guys creep up on them already is because he had much respect for their mothers. Otherwise, he would’ve put a stop to their hustling and slinging a long time ago. Knowing what they went through as kids, he could understand why they were out here moving the way they did, and he respected that. The boys had heart, that was for sure.
As much as he didn’t want to take three young hotheaded boys under his wing, he couldn’t let Connie and Consuela down. The Santana twins were good people, and they had proven themselves to be loyal and tough as nails. They had the chance to snitch on Black all those years ago, and the fact that they didn’t said a lot. If they needed a favor, he would have it handled. He had given them his word that if they ever needed anything,
he’d have their backs, and a man like him would never go back on his word. His word was his bond, and he was prepared to die and kill for what he stood for. There was nothing he couldn’t do.
Guiding some young niggas? This is gonna be easy, like pushing pawns up a chess board.
So he supposed.
1 . . . 2 . . . Feds Is Coming for You
Amy Tyler, a single mother of two children, had scored a high grade on her exam to become a federal officer. She had devoted herself to making a difference in her community, as well as the city. She had two weeks of training left before she would be in the field, and she couldn’t wait. During her training, she had mastered psychology as well as several mind games that were considered strong tactics to break suspects and have them willing to tell on their mothers for a hope of a respectable release date. She had aced several exercises with flying colors. Her supervisors were very impressed and had already assigned her to lead an investigation into the drug-related murders in West Philly.
Over the past few years, the murder rate in Philadelphia had soared over 40 percent. There were now 415 bodies a year, making the city the murder capital of the United States. Handguns and assault weapons in the hands of criminals were common and overwhelming. The feds had no choice but to establish several operations to bring down the murder rate and get guns out of the hands of dangerous criminals. The feds began picking up any crimes where a gun was used. They would make sure that the suspects who were arrested for these crimes were facing outrageous time, and the only way to get a shorter sentence was to cooperate and get a 5K1 motion. This petition was filed by the United States District Attorney’s office on behalf of their cooperating witnesses. Their plan to this day is genius and has helped the city solve thousands of murders, robberies, shootings, etc. It is said that over 80 percent of federal inmates are cooperating for shorter sentences, money, or to help an associate or loved one out of a jam.
Amy had high hopes of being able to make a difference in the number of arrests being made in Philly. The more arrests they made, the faster the murder rate could go down. She was excited to graduate in two weeks. She planned to hit the ground running. She’d dreamed about being a federal officer ever since her mother was shot and killed during a drive-by shooting. She would never forget the day her aunt came into her room and gave her the news that her mother had been killed. She felt sad, angry, confused, and determined, all in one. She was sad to have lost her mother, and she was angry that she was killed over a senseless street beef that had nothing to do with her. She remembers being confused and angry with God for having let this happen, but at the same moment, she felt determined to avenge her mother’s death. She knew better than to try to go after her mother’s killers. Her mother would never want her to become a street thug. Instead, she made a silent promise to become a person of the law and do her part to keep something like that from happening again. Putting away murderers was the best way for her to avenge her mother’s death. Amy knew her mother would be proud.
As Amy studied the facts of her investigation, she learned that the alleged suspects were Gustavo Santana and Ka’Leaf Santana. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard those names. The last name, Santana, had been known in Philly for years. She remembered reading about two twin sisters being arrested back when she was a teenager. She wondered if these boys were related to them. Amy decided the best thing for her to do is look into their history. The more she knew about their past, the better chances she had of knowing who their people were. It was important for her to know who they worked with, who they trusted, and how they operated. If she got lucky, she might even be able to get one of their workers to cooperate with her investigation. If she could catch the Santana boys, it’d be a great way for her to start her career in law enforcement.
Change Going to Come
“Turn the fucking music down, Leaf!” screamed Gus while giving Leaf a hard stare.
“What the fuck is up with you, cuz? You ain’t never had a problem with me listening to this shit loud before. You been acting real funny since the other night, and I ain’t feeling it. What the fuck is good?” growled Leaf returning the stare.
“My fucking problem is you always gotta do shit loud for everybody to hear. The streets is talking about the shit we did to Li’l Reek,” Gus snapped, “Everybody and their mother know we murked him, and we really don’t need all this unnecessary attention.”
“I know you fucking around with me right now, cuz. You ain’t say shit when we were on our way to the spot, and we showed up wearing those shirts and blasting that song,” Leaf clapped back. “I bet your bitch-ass girl got in your head with all this shit.”
“Watch how you talk about my girl.” Gus stepped into Leaf’s face.
“Oh, it’s like that, Gus? You gonna fight your own blood over some pussy?” Leaf said in between clenched teeth. “Let’s go then, cuz,” he said, ready to fight. He knew deep down Gus wasn’t going to fight him, though. They grew up like brothers, and they’d promised each other years ago they’d never fight each other, especially over a female. “Bros before hoes” was their motto.
“Man, you know we ain’t gonna square off,” Gus said as he sucked his teeth and backed up. “I’ma tell you once, though, don’t talk about Trish like that. She ain’t like other bitches I’ve fucked with.”
“All right, I can respect that,” Leaf said as he put his hands up. “But what’s really good, cuz? Why you walking around like you got a chip on your shoulder?”
“It ain’t got no chip. I just been thinking about things lately, and we really need to change shit and step up our game. We can’t be out here flossing and showing off, or else we gonna get attention from the boys in blue, and you know that’s the last thing we need. I wasn’t left in charge to do stupid shit and be sloppy. You know our moms is getting out soon, and we need to have our shit ready for them. We’re Santanas, goddamn it,” Gus said, giving Leaf a speech that was inspired by Trish.
Leaf had no choice but to listen to everything Gus was saying because he could tell his cousin was in his feelings right now, but he didn’t agree with everything he was talking about. Leaf wasn’t a lay-low type of guy. Leaf was the type of nigga that got excited by murders, shootings, and going to war with rival crews. He thought the complete opposite of what Gus was saying. He felt it was important to let people know and see the shit they were capable of doing. He wanted to show everyone that the Santanas were not to be played with or taken lightly.
“Nah, man. Motherfuckers out here need to know who the fuck we are. The fuck I look like, keeping shit in secret like I’m scared? I ain’t scared of nothing,” Leaf said, raising his voice.
Gus knew this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation with his cousin. Leaf was a hotheaded-act-on-sight type of guy. He was a man of few words and all about action. That’s why he was considered the enforcer, and Gus was the thinker.
“Leaf, you need to—”
“Yo, what are y’all arguing about now?” Sha’Ron walked into the living room, interrupting Gus midsentence.
“This nigga over here telling me we need to lie low like we some scared bitch-ass cowards.” Leaf let his brother in on the conversation.
“Oh my God, Leaf. I swear, you always gotta blow everything out of proportion. I never said we need to hide from nothing or nobody,” Gus snapped again. “All I’m saying is we gotta be careful that we don’t get too much attention and have the alphabet boys come after us.”
Sha’Ron just stood there and looked back and forth between the two men. Being the “baby” of the family, Sha’Ron was a good blend of both his cousin and his brother. He knew how to handle himself with weapons, but he’d learned to keep his cool and not be so quick to react. Over the years, he’d become somewhat of a peacekeeper in the house, often having to step in between Gus and Leaf to keep them from arguing so much.
“All right, all right, both of y’all need to calm down,” he spoke up. “Leaf, all Gus is saying is when you pop off, make sure ain
’t too many people watching, because you know there’re rats everywhere, and they always looking to get some cheese, so they’ll be quick to snitch us out.”
“Exactly,” Gus agreed with his little cousin.
“Gus, it’s a little too late for us to try to lie low. You must be forgetting about all the motherfuckers laid up in boxes and suits because of us. You don’t think their people know it was us, and are trying to get even? Man, if a motherfucker try to get the drop on me . . . I’ma body them and everything they love,” promised Leaf while lifting his shirt to expose the P90 with extended clip. “I don’t give a shit who’s there to see it.”
“Listen, nigga, bottom line, no more fucking bodies . . . right now. If a nigga come at you, do what you should, but only if a nigga try to line you up. Moms called me a week ago, went off on me about what they saw in the news about us rolling up at Li’l Reek’s vigil and shit. Now, both my mom and your mom must think we out here incompetent of running the family business because the day after I talked to her, I got a call from their lawyer telling me that their friend, that old head nigga Black, is looking for me, talking about wanting to have a sit-down. I got to show them that I’m still, and always have been, capable,” explained Gus.
“Yo, for real?” Sha’Ron questioned.
“Yup, now I’m gonna have to take time out and sit with that nigga and probably have to listen to him try to school me like we ain’t been out here doing shit on our own for years.”
“Well, damn, cuz, you shoulda said all that shit from the beginning,” Leaf said, now understanding where Gus was coming from. “A’ight, I gotchu,” he said, extending his hand to give his cousin a pound. The two connected fists and almost immediately, you could feel the tension leave the room.
“Can I go back to playing my music? Shit, you really good at fucking up a nigga’s vibe,” Leaf said as he playfully shoved Gus and turned back to press Play on the iPod.
