Army of One

by A. K. Henderson

  Block was noticeably irritated as he listened to this DA make a mockery of the court system with the lies he was spewing to the jury. Man, I can’t believe he really gonna stand up there and lie like that.

  He reached for a nearby notepad and wrote:

  You know that’s not what happened. What are we going to do? They are buying it.

  He then slid it over to his lawyer, Attorney Jonathan Bush. He was one of the top African American defense attorneys in the region. Block’s uncle Alex put up the money for his legal fees mainly because he believed his nephew only did it to protect his sister.

  Attorney Bush wrote back on the paper:

  Don’t worry, they won’t get a murder conviction. Too many holes in the story. Just calm down. They’re watching you. Don’t feed into it.

  When the trial first began, Attorney Bush was straightforward with Block. He told him that because of the way LaPorte County was when it came to young African American males he was likely to get some time. However, because he was defending the life of another person, he was sure to beat the murder charge. Although he didn’t want to have to become the kind of person it would take to survive in prison, the life of his big sister was worth it. Block showed no remorse for taking one life to save another; he’d do that time proudly.

  When it came time for the defense to give its closing arguments Attorney Bush painted a totally different picture. He actually told the truth about what happened. Latoya had been going hard on Joshua because he had been caught cheating with one of her friends. The two twenty-one-year-olds had always had trust issues during their four-year relationship. What the DA didn’t mention was the fact that, on multiple occasions before, Joshua had been accused of putting his hands on other females. Because of his status as an athletic star, complaints were usually dropped. This was what led to the confrontation between Block and Joshua. When he came into his mother’s house, Block did not see what the DA called light slaps in an attempt to wake Latoya. What he saw was Joshua pounding away at his sister’s lifeless body. The bruises on the photos that had been passed around to the jury earlier were proof of this. Block shooting Joshua was purely to save the life of his sister and after the defense ended it statements it would be left up to the jury to decide his fate.

  The jury came back in less than three hours of deliberating. That alone made Block nervous, but no matter how it went, he stood by his decision, and his sister and the rest of the family were behind him. Beads of sweat rolled down the small of his back, and anxiety painted his face. He had grown several gray hairs in the middle of the head as a result of the stress.

  When the verdict was read the entire courtroom was silent. “We, the jury, find the defendant, Darron Foster, not guilty on the count of first-degree murder,” one juror read from a sheet of paper.

  The room erupted with cheers from the Block family and cries from Joshua’s. The judge banged his gavel and demanded to have order in the court. He followed with a statement on behalf of the state of Indiana. “Mr. Foster, you have been found not guilty of murder, but the court still finds you grossly responsible for taking the life of another human being. It is the court’s judgment that you are hereby found guilty of voluntary manslaughter in the death of Joshua Townsend. Sentencing will take place in two weeks.”

  As the judge put the court in recess until sentencing, Block remained standing in disbelief. His heart dropped. Even though he knew going in he would have to do some time, he never expected this charge. At the least, he thought he might get an assault charge just due to the fact that the judge had a point to prove. He leaned over and asked his lawyer, “Can he do that? What just happened?”

  Attorney Bush, who was just as frustrated, knew there was a slight chance this could happen; but he’d only seen it once before. “Yes, unfortunately, he can. If the judge finds that the crime qualifies for a lesser charge he can rule in favor of it. Trust me, the DA knew they couldn’t get the murder conviction but they also knew he wouldn’t just let you walk. We’re still going to fight this, son,” he said, trying to keep him calm.

  Two weeks later the judge handed down a sentence of thirty years with the possibility of parole in fifteen. Block made a promise to his family to do everything he could to come home in fifteen. Being a man of his word, he did exactly that, and now after fifteen long years in a prison twenty minutes from his childhood home, Block was ready to return to society.

  These next three days couldn’t go by any faster. As the signal sounded for the population to return to the cell blocks, Block caught a glimpse of the roof of his best friend Straw’s old house. He hadn’t seen him in a couple of years, and word on the tier was that he had left town on the run from the feds. It was a sober moment for him, and just as his mind began to drift off, one of the COs blew a whistle to get his attention. Block returned to his cell and sat quietly as the cell slammed shut.

  Chapter Four

  Shamar

  A week had gone by, and Shamar was finally able to call home. Because of the nature of their mission, he wasn’t allowed to mention where he was and there were specific times he was allowed to call. Let him tell it, it was almost like being in jail.

  It was a Tuesday evening, and Jelisa had just returned from the grocery store. As she was putting things away, the house phone rang. She looked around with frustration, wondering why nobody else in the house attempted to answer it. Already on edge after having to deal with Mya’s whining the whole time they were at the store, she slammed a can of vegetables on the counter and sucked her teeth. She walked back into the living room and grabbed the cordless phone off the charger. Looking at the caller ID, she didn’t recognize the Tennessee number, so she was tempted to ignore it. She then remembered that Shamar said that he would have to use calling cards to call out so she should expect calls from out-of-town numbers. Taking the risk of it just being a bill collector or telemarketer, she braced herself and pressed TALK on the phone.

  “Hello,” she spoke, unenthused.

  “Hey, baby girl, what’s up? You miss me yet?” Shamar said in his best Barry White impression.

  Elated at the sound of his voice, Jelisa’s face lit up as her heart fluttered with excitement. She was beginning to wonder if she’d ever hear from him. She was worried that something might have happened to him. “Hey, babe, yeah, I miss you. Why did it take so long for you to call me? You got me over here freaking out,” she said.

  He could hear the sincerity in her voice, so he attempted to reassure her that he was okay. “I know, I know. It’s kind of crazy over here. I’ve just been trying to get things in order. But I’m good. Can’t wait to see you again. How have you been holding up?”

  His attempts, however ineffective, didn’t go unnoticed. Jelisa made her way back into the kitchen and continued to put the groceries away. “So, I need to tell you something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad.”

  Shamar knew what she was about to say. He let out a sigh.

  “What you blowing for? You don’t even know what I’m getting ready to say.”

  In a low tone, Shamar said, “Yes, I do. Go ahead and say it.”

  “See, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget about it.”

  “Naw, go ahead, Jelisa. Stop playing with me,” he said sternly.

  She knew he was going to snap when she told him that she had loaned her mother more money. She didn’t want to have to explain it to him when he found out on his own because that would have made things worse. “All right, so, you know I’ve been staying with Mama, right? Well, I had to loan her some money to help with the bills. She promised—”

  He cut her off before she could finish. “Really, Jelisa? What did I tell you about that? Stop letting people use you like that. I mean, hell, you’ve only been there for a couple weeks, and it’s already starting. You know good and well that if she needs to borrow the money, she has no way of paying it back.”

  Shamar tried not to go too hard on her, but he wanted to make his point very clear. He was
fed up with Jelisa’s family using her and making her feel obligated to help them just because she was staying with them.

  “But . . . Yeah, I know, baby, but she is letting me stay with her. What am I supposed to do?” Jelisa pleaded, trying desperately to calm him down as she could hear him getting more and more frustrated.

  “Get your own place like I told you to!” he snapped. He could hear himself getting loud, and people in the call center he was in started giving him looks. The makeshift room was simply a large tent that had been furnished with cubicles and fifteen phones for soldiers to use. There was really no privacy, and that made it even more important that Shamar compose himself. He had no idea who could have been listening in.

  “Look, I’m not trying to be mean about it; but if you want them to stop taking advantage of you, you’re going to have to stand up for yourself. They are going to have to respect the fact that it’s not just your money they are getting; it’s ours, and you have to make sure I’m cool with it first.”

  When she heard that, Jelisa raised an eyebrow, surprised at the tone he had just taken. Who does he think he’s talking to? “What do you mean, I have to make sure you’re cool with it? You ain’t my daddy, and I’m not about to be running to you every single time I need to buy something just to get permission.”

  Shamar couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Was she really coming at him like that? Not wanting the conversation to end on a bad note, he chose not to respond with the same attitude she was giving him. He took the phone away from his ear and held it to his chest. Then he looked up at the ceiling and gathered himself. Finally, he responded with, “Jelisa, don’t play me like that. Have I ever told you that you had to have my permission to do anything?”

  She got quiet. The silence over the phone was deafening; you could hear a pin drop. Jelisa cleared her throat but didn’t respond. She knew her attitude was uncalled for and she had no comeback.

  Feeling vindicated, Shamar followed up with, “I didn’t think so. Baby, I told you anything you need is yours to have. It’s just money. God! I’m really not trying to have us arguing every time we talk. I need you to hold me down while I’m gone, so we have to have an understanding. All I ask is that you be smart with the money and don’t be out there trying to ball out, you feel me?”

  Hearing Shamar assert himself gave her chills. As hard as he could sometimes be, he was a pushover when it came to her and Mya. She hated feeling like she had to take charge in situations so being put in check reaffirmed her confidence in him. “All right, Shamar,” she whispered in submission.

  Shamar grinned and added, “And please go get your own spot and get out of her house. That way she can’t ever say you owe her nothing.”

  After all of the going back and forth, it dawned on Shamar that he hadn’t even asked about his daughter. He missed his little princess like crazy. “What’s up with Mya? How is she doing?”

  Jelisa looked over at her tiny body that had fallen asleep on the living room couch, and she said, “She’s good. She misses you. She’s in the living room knocked out on the couch. You want me to wake her up?” She turned to walk into the living room.

  “No, I’ll talk to her next time. I got to get off of here anyway and get ready for this little thing we’ve got. But I’m going to try to give you a call in a couple days. It might be hard to catch up with you because of the time difference, but I’m going to try. I love you.”

  Neither wanted to hang up, and Jelisa’s eyes started to well up as she considered the thought of never hearing from him again. “All right, babe, I’ll let you go. I need to finish putting this stuff away. You make sure you call me and don’t try to be no hero. I’ll be waiting for your call, okay? Talk to you later. Love you.”

  “All right.”

  Shamar hesitated to hang up and slowly they got off their phones.

  * * *

  That Friday morning, Shamar got called to accompany a tank unit as their medic on a mission. Often times in the past, while they were back in the States, different units would request Shamar to come and teach classes to their medics. He was only a sergeant, but it had only taken two years for the unit to start talking about promoting him again. As a soldier, he was on the fast track to senior leadership, and his reputation from other missions with his last unit preceded him.

  As the team lined up their vehicles to head out, Shamar silently prayed. He never went out on a mission without doing so. Some called him superstitious; others thought it was because of where they were deployed that shook him. Either way, it gave him comfort knowing that he had sent a prayer up, and that was enough.

  The mission was to escort the unit commander out into the city to meet with the local government. While on the convoy heading to the meeting location, Shamar was floored by the amount of poverty he witnessed. So much so that he thought, man, folks in the States have no idea what being poor is. These people literally don’t have a pot to piss in and they making it work. It was a sobering experience to see the kids play in the streets, women walking together going to the market, and the men sitting back in front of the small clay houses, talking politics.

  The air was humid, and the sun beat down on their Kevlar-covered vehicles. Shamar could hear over the radio that they were approaching the mayor’s office. Immediately, reality set in and, as the four HMMVs came to a halt, everyone’s attention turned to the two-story buildings that surrounded them. Locals peeked out of windows and stood on balconies with displeased faces. They investigated the Americans walking in front of their homes dressed in full battle gear carrying M-16s in the ready position. Two of the convoy vehicles positioned themselves at the nearby corners, and Shamar and two other soldiers stood guard in front of the doors.

  A young boy started approaching them. Shamar was the first to notice him. He nodded his head at the other soldiers, drawing their attention to the unexpected visitor. The young Iraqi boy was about 200 yards away, and he was carrying something tucked under his left arm.

  Shamar turned in the boy’s direction, and in a commanding voice he shouted, “Hey, stop right there!”

  The boy didn’t break stride as he walked another fifty yards. Whether it was on the streets of Michigan City, in his home, or Iraq, Shamar hated having to repeat himself. With all of the rumors that the rebel insurgents were recruiting kids to get close to soldiers and blow themselves up, killing the soldiers as well, he wasn’t taking any chances. Shamar shouted even louder this time “Qiff!” which meant “stop” or “halt” in Arabic. The boy continued to walk another fifty yards or so before the other soldiers began to yell, echoing Shamar.

  Finally, when he was just over a hundred yards away, the boy stopped. He placed the item that was tucked under his arm on the ground in front of him and took a step back. All of the soldiers were tense, their weapons now aimed at the thin frame of this child who couldn’t have been any older than twelve or thirteen.

  The sun was hitting Shamar on the side of his face, his adrenaline started pumping, and there were beads of sweat streaming down his forehead and temples. Time seemed to stand still at that moment as he contemplated the possibility of the item being a bomb. Jelisa’s and Mya’s faces flashed in his mind as he considered the thought of not being able to see them again. Just as the moment came to a climax, with everybody waiting on Shamar’s next move, the boy took a step forward and kicked the item. As it came closer and closer to their position, the soldiers took cover behind their vehicles.

  Shamar, with brief hesitation, took a closer look as it approached; and then he looked back at the other guys with a grin on his face. “Y’all, it’s all good, man. Little dude just wants to play with us; it’s a soccer ball.” They all responded in disbelief with laughs and sighs of relief as they walked back over to where Shamar was standing. Shamar stopped the ball with his foot and gently kicked it back to the boy, who was now fifty feet away walking toward them.

  The boy picked the ball up and walked up to Shamar and said in broken English, “Chocolate
?” They all laughed as they were used to the kids asking for candy, especially chocolate.

  Shamar went back to his vehicle to retrieve some of the chocolate candy pieces that he normally took with him to persuade the kids to trust them. He said under his breath, “Thank you, Lord.” The other soldiers began talking to the boy and kicking the ball back and forth with him while Shamar walked back to where they were standing. This had been an intense, yet funny, situation for them all and it reminded him how important his family was to him.

  Ten minutes passed, while they were entertaining the young boy, before the commander and his assistant emerged from the building. “Mount up!” he shouted, eager to hurry and get back to camp.

  Shamar and the others gave the young boy high fives. The boy stopped him as he turned away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a green string of yarn with brown beads on it. His face lit up with the biggest smile Shamar had ever seen on a kid. He stretched out his hand to Shamar with the handmade necklace dangling from his tiny fingers. The look in his eyes would be something the soldier would never forget. He took the gift from the boy, nodded his head, and bid him farewell while getting back into his vehicle. Shamar was surprised at the boy’s gesture. But the more he thought about it, he knew it could have just been a ploy by the boy to get his guard down.

  The team then proceeded back to the camp to debrief from the mission.

  * * *

  Back in the States, Jelisa was embarking on her own special mission to find an apartment for her and Mya. She found a spot not far from her old neighborhood, off of Coolspring Avenue. It was a nice two-bedroom apartment, just big enough for them. Unfortunately, the celebration of her new move was short-lived as she dealt with the backlash from her mother and sisters.