For the first time ever I saw Mrs Martel looking confused, and she was looking towards me for advice.
‘I don’t know what to think, and why are you so interested in this “case” as you call it.’
‘Do you remember when I said I was having a kind of therapy? I said.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, this is my therapy.’
‘So that’s what you meant when you said you were having therapy that was individually tailored to you. Tell me more.’
‘It’s simple really. After seeing the stabbing I did need therapy, but I didn’t need to talk to a counsellor, I needed to understand what happened and why it happened, and I’m getting there – I think.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘I understand. So what shall I do now?’
‘You have to trust me, Mrs Martel. I don’t know exactly what happened the morning Mr Joseph was killed but there’s more to it than we think. I’m getting very close to the truth, and I just know Terry Stock and his gang had something to do with it. Call the police, that’s what you should do.’
Mrs Martel’s voice got louder.
‘I can’t call the police. What do we say to them?
‘Shh. I know they’re going to crack, so it would be best if when they cracked the police were here. We could get them on underage drinking, we could get them on bullying, or if it helps I’d like to press charges on them for assault. But I know there’s more.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I can’t do it. I can’t just call the police, we don’t have a good enough reason.’
‘You do, miss. They bullied me before and received a warning. They bullied me and hit me this morning. I want to charge them with assault. And that assault took place on these premises. I’m the victim here, are you going to support me?’
‘You are the victim, and I’ll support you, but are you sure you want to press charges, Jackson? Once the police are involved it’s out of my hands.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘And I’m sure. I want to press charges.’
She walked off into Mrs Franklin’s office. I heard her say, ‘Call the police. Tell them to get here as quickly as they can.’ She came back and muttered, ‘I hope you’re right, Jackson, but then again in some ways I don’t.’
As we walked in the room we could see that we had interrupted a heated conversation.
‘Right,’ said Mrs Martel. ‘I need to know about the cider. You were obviously forcing Ramzi and his friend to give you cider. Now tell me how often.’
They stayed silent.
She continued trying to get something from them.
‘OK. How did it start? What did you do with all this cider? Did you pass it on to someone else? Did you sell it? Did you drink it? Come on now, have you suddenly lost your tongues?’
I looked at their faces. Alex was worried, Terry was looked grim and tense, Lola looked confused, and Priti was trying hard to hold back the tears. The moment she failed and I saw her wiping tears from her cheeks I knew I was winning.
Mrs Martel went over to look out of her window and said, ‘Now I want to ask you all something, and I want you to think about the answer very carefully. On April the twenty-forth this year, why did you bring a knife into school?
Now Terry really shouted.
‘Who said we brought a knife into school?’ He pointed to me. ‘Was it him? You’re so dead, you are, you know that, don’t you? You’re dead.’
Priti started to cry aloud.
‘And what are you crying for?’ Terry shouted.
‘Leave her alone,’ said Alex.
Terry leaned over towards Alex and snarled, ‘I told you to keep it shut. Why can’t any of you lot listen to me?’
‘Come on now,’ said Mrs Martel. ‘Tell me why you brought a knife to school, which one of you got the knife, and what happened to that knife.’
Then Alex cracked.
‘Tell her, Terry, just tell her will you? I can’t take it any more, she’s gonna find out, just tell her and get it over with.’
Terry rocked forward and hit Alex with a punch that looked as if it went halfway round the room. Alex went down.
‘How dare you!’ screamed Mrs Martel.
‘How dare I?’ shouted Terry. He then proceeded to run around the room, kicking the furniture and throwing papers in the air. He went crazy, shouting like a boy possessed as he went on his rampage. ‘How dare I? How dare I? I do what I want, no one tells me what to do, that’s how dare I.’
The two girls ran into a corner, a lampshade just missed Mrs Martel, who dived to the ground, Terry came and swung one of his wild punches at me but that missed and I dived to the ground.
Mrs Martel shouted, ‘You’ll not get away with this, the police are on their way.’
And as soon as he heard that he ran out of the door, knocking over Mrs Franklin, who had come to see what the noise was about. I ran after him. Through the corridors and out into the playground we went. Then I wondered what would happen if he stopped running. I couldn’t fight him, but he outran me anyway. He went out of the school grounds and disappeared into the streets.
Alex, Priti and Lola were taken to the police station for questioning and Terry was easily caught by the police as he was trying to break into his own house. It didn’t take long for all four of them to break down and speak up.
Chapter 29
My School Report
It was a tough case and it took me some time, but I got there in the end. Now let me break it down for you.
The day before the stabbing Terry and his gang ordered Ramzi and Lionel to bring them some cider but they were tired of it all and said no. Terry then told them that if they didn’t bring the alcohol they would get beaten up even worse than before, but they still said no.
The next morning Terry brought a large knife to school in his bag; he was showing it off outside near a local newsagent’s when Martina Telford saw them. All day they had been asking Ramzi and Lionel where the cider was but Ramzi and Lionel told them they hadn’t brought any. Terry threatened to stab Ramzi and Lionel when classes were over. Terry’s gang surrounded Ramzi and Lionel in an empty classroom and began to push them around. They were both slapped around their heads a couple of times then Terry pulled the knife. Alex, Lola and Priti ran away, which meant that Terry was outnumbered. The tables were turned and now Ramzi and Lionel managed to get the better of Terry and overpower him. Lionel now had the knife. This was where Lionel really went wrong. Instead of throwing the knife away or telling a teacher, he kept the knife to protect him and Ramzi just in case the gang came back, and they walked out to the playground. But the gang got back together and told Mr Joseph that they had just been threatened by Ramzi and Lionel. All Mr Joseph did when he caught up with them was touch Lionel on his shoulder, but Lionel was in such a state that he thought it was Terry and turned and stabbed him.
After all the abuse and hardship they had been through Ramzi and Lionel didn’t really care that they had stabbed the wrong person. For them, in their state of mind, there was no wrong person. Things had got so bad that they wanted to be locked away, it would relieve them of the terrible lives they were living, so when the police suggested a sequence of events they didn’t challenge them, they agreed with them. It all looked so straightforward, even for those of us who saw Mr Joseph go down.
I have learnt that you can see something happen right in front of you but still you are only seeing part of the picture. Nothing is as it seems. Seeing is not believing. Sometimes as well as seeing you have to feel, touch, experience, and use your intelligence, and even then you should still question. When I see people smiling now I don’t presume they are happy. Ramzi and Lionel’s lives were so different from each other’s, but from everything I found out they were never happy. Can you imagine living for fifteen years unable to record any happiness in your life? They were constantly being called evil, but no one is born evil.
Terry Stock’s gang were charged with underage drinking, perverting the course of justice, common assault, da
maging property and possessing a dangerous weapon. The girls were both put on probation and Alex was given probation and twelve months’ community service, and Terry got twelve months in youth custody to be followed by twelve months’ probation. On the basis of the evidence I’d uncovered, Lionel and Ramzi were advised that they may be able to appeal against their convictions and hope to get reduced sentences at a retrial.
The good news is that the documentary was scrapped, I got pretty good exam grades, and I finished painting the front door.
The End
Now the headlines
How do you like your truth?
Gently spoken on breakfast TV
By a man and a woman who sit comfortably
Saying riots, and murder, when will it end?
As they struggle to act as if they are good friends.
How do you like your truth?
Bite-sized in sound bites cut easy to chew,
With a talking head saying the victim’s like you,
And when you’ve digested the horrors you’ve seen
You find good, you find evil, with no in-between.
How do you like your truth?
Fantastic, sensational, printed in bold,
Today it’s exclusive, tomorrow it’s old,
All on the surface with nothing too deep
With a story about animals to help you to sleep.
How do you like your youth?
From perfect families with parents that care,
Or in perfect families but still in despair,
Ten out of ten parents say they’d not choose
To have bad kids like those kids they see in the news.
Also by Benjamin Zephaniah
Face
Refugee Boy
Gangsta Rap
First published in Great Britain 2007
Copyright © Benjamin Zephaniah
This electronic edition published 2011 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
The right of Benjamin Zephaniah to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 36 Soho Square, London W1D 3QY
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978 1 4088 2541 9
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Teacher's Dead Page 15
