pened! Damn! I began thinking.
Even though the concoction didn’t work, Phaedra had convinced me
that abortion was my only real option. When I told my baby’s father about my plan to abort, he got on his hands and knees. Slim begged me to spare
his child’s life. Then he called my mother, and put her all up in my business.
By this time, my mother was a preacher. God had finally delivered
her from low-down Curtis. She hadn’t seen him for a year, and she was doing well living with me in Atlanta. There was absolutely no way she was going to stand by and let me abort her grandchild. Needless to say, I was stuck being pregnant and raising another child in addition to my three children. My family situation required steady financial gains. Making money quickly became
the driving force behind my participation in all of the corruption.
March 2001, Phaedra introduced me to her current husband, Apollo Nida. He was clean-cut and very well spoken. About six feet two inches tall, intelligent and very handsome, Apollo put light skin dudes back on the map. He reminded me of a smooth criminal. Ironically, he even thought we were all crooks. For some reason, he came across as honest and sincere. Phaedra told Apollo that I was one of her closest friends, and her best worker. She explained that I had a proven track record, and it was time for my promotion.
This was the moment I had been waiting for and we met for hours
that day. Finally, I was going to make the real money she promised me. No more running around to Best Buy, Staples, Office Depot, or Wal-Mart. I was tired of writing checks. Thus far, I had conducted our scam in every major department store in Atlanta. Therefore in order for me to continue to pull stunts involving writing bogus business checks to fill her daily orders, I would have to extend the boundaries of the operation. That would involve driving to the nearby cities and towns. I had hit the jackpot! I was pregnant. Simple trips seemed to take all day, and were becoming more tiresome. Phaedra called to inform me that she had something different for me to do. It was a good thing because I had told her on many occasions that I hated repetitive cycles. I
needed something different.
By the way Phaedra was acting, I could tell that this gig was going
to be the big one. I was ready for those thousands of dollars she promised I would make. Other than the one time I got caught, and was charged with forg-
ery, everything Phaedra had told me to do seemed to have a smooth ending.
Even the one snafu or offense, I really couldn’t blame Phaedra for
that. She provided me with the checks, but I got banged up for personal purchases. She had nothing to do with that. I was out on bond awaiting trial. Phaedra assured me that I was only going to get a slap on the wrist. So again, I put my trust in her, and we kept rolling along.
July of 2001, Phaedra and Apollo drove me to Hartsfield Interna-
tional Airport. The previous day, I had given Phaedra a passport picture of myself that she instructed me to purchase from a CVS Pharmacy. I was told to go inside the airport, and purchase a round trip ticket from Atlanta to Wash-
ington, DC.
From the jump, I could tell that this particular operation would con-
sist of some very slick, cunning and well-connected sh**! I did exactly as told and they waited for me outside the airport. My flight was due to leave the next morning. Everything was going according to plan. I left early that morning with a returning flight for later that day. I was given a folder filled with fake documents. I had in hand, bank statements, a utility bill, and a social
security card with a fraudulent Georgia state driver’s license.
The name associated with this particular operation was that of one, Tara Evans. The picture on the license was the same passport picture I had taken at the CVS Pharmacy two days earlier. Damn! I thought. The thrill of living life on the edge, playing with fire, and not getting burned gave me an adrenaline rush. They seemed to know their way around everything. I felt
invincible.
My assignment involved flying to DC, and catching a cab from the
airport to Baltimore, MD. Then I was supposed to go to the Department of Motor Vehicles, submit my documents, and obtain my State of Maryland
driver’s license.
I will never ever, ever forget that ride on the airplane that day. I was
six months pregnant, overweight, and fighting with the father of my unborn child. To make matters worse, I did not know if I was going to make it back
home. I just knew I was doing what I had to do.
There was a change of plans when I arrived in DC. What Phaedra
and Apollo didn’t know was that I had family there. I grew up in Buffalo, but I was born in Maryland. My mother had moved to Buffalo when I was six weeks old. DC was familiar territory. It just so happened that my uncle, Ernie, was in the hospital. Junior, my cousin, picked me up from the airport. He drove straight to the Walter Reade Memorial hospital where my uncle was
on his deathbed.
Ernest Lee served our country from 1961 to 1997. He fought in the Vietnam War and was in Bagdad. He was retired, and had been a lieutenant colonel in the air force. Ernest Lee was my father’s only brother. A family man and veteran, my uncle was in the hospital dying of brain cancer. Various family members told me that it would be a complete waste of my time for me to even visit him. They claimed he wouldn’t recognize me, but I had to make
this visit to see for myself anyway.
It was very painful for me to even imagine my uncle in that state, but I still wanted to see him. He had always been good to me, and never showed me anything but love. For that, I loved him. My uncle never treated me indif-
ferently and I was sure he had heard all the bad stories about me.
Uncle Ernie had heard of the many schools which expelled me. He
heard all about me being mischievous and disrespectful. Even when I got caught stealing, he heard about that too. My family members made sure they told him of all the times I had run away from home, and the hell I dragged my father, his only brother, through. All those endless nights my father had spent searching for me my Uncle Ernie heard it all, but never once raised his voice to me. He never spoke anything foul about my life, and always offered me encouragement, no matter what kind of hell I put my parents through. He was never judgmental, and Uncle Ernie gave me his unconditional love. That was why the first thing I did when I landed in DC was to go visit with
my sick uncle.
It was with some trepidation that my weak legs dragged me through
the doors of the hospital. I quickly found his ward, and was soon standing next to his hospital bed, looking down at him. I glanced at the medical machinery all around him. Then reached out, and touched my Uncle Ernie’s
hand. I leaned closer to him.
“Uncle Ernie it’s me, Angela. Your niece...” I whispered in his ear.
He knew exactly who I was. Instantly squeezing my hand, Uncle Ernie refused to let go. Tears began falling from his eyes. Deep feelings for him were welling up inside of me, threatening to explode. I knew I was on the verge of an emotional shipwreck, so I tried pulling my hand away. Uncle Ernie had a firm grip. It was getting emotionally out of control for me. After all, I was there to do a job and I did not have time to be sidetracked by my
feelings for an ailing uncle.
With some hesitation, I began peeling his fingers away from my
hand. Silently my tears rolled down my face while I severed our connection one finger at a time. I was thinking about his inevitable fate. Uncle Ernie was crying because he knew it was near the end for him. I had to seize control of my feelings, I broke free, and turned away. Walking out of his hospital room, I knew that it was the last time I would ever see my uncle alive.
Needless to say, the ride from the hospital to the Department of Mo-
tor Vehicles was not only stressful, but also unsettling. After all I was pregnant, my uncle was dying, and
I was far away from home in another state doing something illegal. I had to put Uncle Ernie to the back of mind, and go handle business. My cousin, JR, pulled to a stop at the DMV. I sat adjusting my thoughts and makeup. It took a little while before I could completely
detach myself and regain my composure before embarking on my mission.
Eventually I was able to confidently get out of the car. Knowing
damn well that I had a handful of counterfeit government documents in my possession, I walked straight up to the counter without hesitation or fear. The DMV clerk viewed the documents, stamped them and told me to stand in line, and wait for my picture to be taken. I took my photo. Then the clerk gave me my new identity, and I proudly walked out of the DMV. I remember thinking
how happy Phaedra would be when she knew I had scored once again.
I was happy to please Phaedra. In my mind, she had given me and
my children a way out of poverty. Life was better now and I felt that I owed her for what she had done for me. I wanted her acceptance. I had always been an outcast. I was pleased to be accepted in her circle. I was relieved and glad that the mission was a success. I was also delighted that I had gotten away, and contented about a job well done. With each success I received more clout and was advanced to the next level. I was rapidly climbing my career ladder. I didn’t want to be viewed as a curmudgeon.
At around eight that same evening, I arrived back in the ATL. Apollo
was waiting for me at the airport. Mission accomplished. It never dawned on me to even ask the purpose or what was to be the future use of the license. I
trusted my partner, Phaedra, that much. There were no questions.
After a long, hard day, there was nothing more rewarding to me
than to see the look on my mother’s face when I returned home. At last, I was back in the comforts of my home. That whole day had just seemed so long and drawn out. My mother’s whole life circled around my children, and me. She was unmarried and wasn’t dating. My mother devoted her entire life completely to God. Joan Milling had been transformed into a very dedicated minister. My mother was a real preacher, and I was sure she would never give
another woman a potion to abort an unborn child.
While she cared for my children, I provided financial support for my
mother. At fifty-two years of age, she was a robust woman. But then one day, my mother got real sick. I took her to the hospital, and as I waited outside the hospital room, I overheard the doctor talking about my mother having breast cancer. The news of her condition was way too hard for me. Flipping out, I
f**king lost it in that hospital.
Then came the many days and weeks filled with chemotherapy treat-
ment. My mother’s lovely hair began falling out. I hated seeing her sick. I couldn’t handle seeing her on days when she could barely hold her head up. As a result, I sought to escape and spent most of my time on the streets. It felt safer out there. I focused on what made me feel good, and that outlet was
getting money.
Having lost her business, and all of the benefits that came with it, my
poor mother didn’t even have health insurance for her treatment and medication. Even though I hated seeing my mother in pain, I felt powerless to really do anything to help her. There was nothing I could do to alleviate her hurting, and that made me angrier. I hated when things spun out of my control. I refused to see my mother suffer. Watching her going through her crisis made me feel like a victim. Those were images that I could never erase from my
mind, and would vividly haunt me in my darkest hour.
I was a fighter and a survivor capable of giving super human efforts,
but her illness proved to be the kryptonite. It weakened me, and out here on the streets, a fragile soldier will lose the battle every time. I needed my
strength on a daily basis, and I walked into the lion’s den seeking it.
My friends were but a few. I considered them all liabilities. Dur-
ing this time, some of my closest family members turned on me. They were jealous because I was managing to stay ahead. I constantly had to watch my back. I scpoed not just for the police or the federal agents, but for my haters, and fake friends, the real enemies. My mother’s sickness would only break me down. Therefore I was going to do whatever it took to make sure she had
everything she needed.
After her chemotherapy treatments, the doctors said she was cured,
but she never fully returned to her old self, not ever. My mother loved my children, and she always kept them with her. They were the loves of her life and her main concern. She always encouraged me to go to school or get a job, but she already knew that I was hardheaded, and wouldn’t listen. She knew the only thing she could do for me was pray. Praying was what she did
constantly, without ever ceasing.
One sunny morning at 8:47 a.m., Phaedra called me to her office. I
had no idea what she had planned for me. I guess this was all part of her gimmick so that I would never be able to figure her out. When I walked through her office door, Phae had specific instructions for me.
“Take your Maryland drivers license along with this social security
printout, and go to the Bank of America, downtown Branch on Peachtree Street and open a bank account,” Phae said.
She also instructed me to deposit money and provide her with the
account numbers. Phaedra Parks was about her business, and she did that very well. Later that morning, I left Phaedra’s office on Spring Street. On leaving her office I opened the envelope, and counted the cash. Then I walked a couple blocks over to Peachtree Street.
Once the transaction at the bank was completed, I headed back to Phae’s office, receipt in hand. This assignment was really simple. Of course, I was not afraid to open the bank account. It was not my name or social security number, but hell the bank teller was none the wiser. The driver’s license I had in my possession was an official document. I knew that, so quite naturally I acted with confidence.
I never ceased to amaze Phae. Every time she sent me on a mission it
was accomplished, and there were hardly any miscues. It wasn’t like I was a dummy who had to call back just to find out what exactly it was I’m supposed to be doing smack-dab in the middle of the operation. Phae only had to instruct me once, and it was understood. My pregnancy was moving along fine, and I was getting closer to my delivery date. Phae was aware of this, so we had to move a little quicker on the operation. Unfortunately, we had to wait at
least thirty days before there could be any major activity on the new account.
After the allotted time went by, Apollo gave me a check for $27,000
to deposit in the account. The check was from an insurance company and made out to my alias. I deposited the check, and Apollo told me that we had to wait five to seven business days for the check to clear. I was cool with that, but those five days were the longest days ever. I was tired of window-
shopping, I was ready to go to the malls and buy everything I deserved.
The day Phaedra called my phone and told me the check had cleared
was like sweet music to my ears. It seemed I had waited for her to call all my life. I knew how to handle my business. Straight up! I put on a navy blue business suit and broke out my sophisticated wig. Then I met her at her office within forty-five minutes.
I had already told my baby’s father, Slim, and my first cousin, Scott,
exactly what was going on. I loved Slim, and told him about the business just to keep my end covered. My father always told me that there was no honor amongst thieves. People could be real shady when it was time to deal with a
lot of money. I needed to make sure I had my end covered, just in case.
Scott was brought in because he was connected to the streets. Al-
though, I trusted Phaedra, it was Apollo who I had a hard time trusting. I just wanted to make sure I got my chips at the end
of the day. Those two were from the streets, and they did not trust Phaedra or Apollo. As a matter of fact,
they didn’t trust anyone.
Slim parked across the street from Phaedra’s office, and waited. Then he followed our every move, oblivious to Phaedra and Apollo. Phae stayed in her office while Apollo and I went on the move. He drove to the first stop. It was the Bank of America located on Windy Hill in Marietta, Georgia. Apollo parked the car and, I walked inside the bank to make a withdrawal.
Now I’m going to keep it real, and let you all know that this time I
was genuinely shaken. I was soo nervous, my knees were shaking, waiting for something to go wrong. It was going uneasily for me because I didn’t want to go to jail, lawyered-up or not. Although I had an attorney, I didn’t want to use her. I had been in the bank for about an hour. Apollo was calling on one line and Slim was calling on the other. I was trying not only to assure myself that everything was good, but I was also busy assuring them as well.
Then all of a sudden, the branch office manager asked to see me
in her office. Now I was afraid. I was about seven months pregnant, and there was no way my fat-butt could outrun any of these folks. I was sh**ting
bricks, thinking about what I was going to do next.
I knew that I had to maintain my composure. I kept it all the way
cool walking closer to the manager’s office. I was scoping out the layout of the branch and possible escape routes. The security guard was pretty much preoccupied. He didn’t look at all concerned with my activities. Maybe the Branch Manager merely wanted to ask a few questions in private.
My heartbeat was getting louder with each step, but I cautiously fol-
lowed the neatly dressed woman into her office. The moment we were inside, she politely gestured for me to have a seat. Then she closed the door. I was just about to scream bloody murder and act like I was about to go into labor, when she pulled out a brown paper bag. Whew! I thought. Thank you sweet Heavenly Father Jesus! I quickly and efficiently counted the money. It was
Lies of a Real Housewife Page 5
