Defining Moments:
Black and White
Ben Burgess Jr.
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1 - Ebony
Chapter 2 - Ben
Chapter 3 - Billy
Chapter 4 - Ben
Chapter 5 - Bill
Chapter 6 - Ben
Chapter 7 - Bill
Chapter 8 - Ebony
Chapter 9 - Ben
Chapter 10 - Bill
Chapter 11 - Ebony
Chapter 12 - Becky
Chapter 13 - Simone
Chapter 14 - Ben
Chapter 15 - Ebony
Chapter 16 - Bill
Chapter 17 - Ben
Chapter 18 - Becky
Chapter 19 - Ben
Chapter 20 - Becky
Chapter 21 - Gabby
Chapter 22 - Becky
Chapter 23 - Ebony
Chapter 24 - Becky
Chapter 25 - Billy
Chapter 26 - Becky
Chapter 27 - Ebony
Chapter 28 - Bill
Chapter 29 - Ebony
Chapter 30 - Bill
Chapter 31 - Ebony
Chapter 32 - Billy
Chapter 33 - Ebony
Chapter 34 - Billy
Chapter 35 - Bill
Chapter 36 - Ben
Chapter 37 - Bill
Chapter 38 - Ben
Chapter 39 - Becky
Chapter 40 - Ben
Chapter 41 - Becky
Chapter 42 - Ben
Chapter 43 - Becky
Chapter 44 - Ben
Epilogue - Gabby
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
Defining Moments Copyright © 2020 Ben Burgess Jr.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6455-6045-6
eISBN 13: 978-1-64556-046-3
eISBN 10: 1-64556-046-5
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
Ebony
Ground Zero
“You heard that?” I asked my partner, Rashida.
“Yup, sounded like shots, Ebony.”
“Hit the lights. Let’s check it out.”
“Units, be advised, I’m getting numerous callers stating they’ve heard gunshots on the corner of Fourteenth Street and Tenth Avenue,” the radio dispatcher said.
I grabbed my radio, keyed the microphone, and responded, “Sixth Precinct Sergeant, Central. Show me responding. I’m two blocks away.”
“Sergeant, be advised: I’m now being told by various callers that this is a 10-13. Officers need immediate assistance. Callers are stating that two cops and two unidentified males have been shot. Are there units to back the sergeant and confirm?”
Every unit in the area agreed to back me up. Rashida’s light-skinned complexion reddened, and her dreads swayed as she stepped on the gas and weaved through traffic.
We got to the corner and rushed out of the car. Two of my cops, Officers Mendez and Mahoney, were holding a man at gunpoint. He had blood on his hands, wore a black T-shirt, and jeans.
“Drop your weapon and get on the ground with your hands on your head,” Mendez yelled.
Mahoney slowly moved in closer to the man with his gun pointed directly at the man’s chest.
“This is fucked-up. I didn’t do it. I found them like that,” the man at gunpoint yelled.
“I’m not going to tell you again. Drop the gun and get on the ground now,” Mendez yelled.
The man dropped the gun but put up a hell of a fight, swinging wildly at Mahoney when he moved in. Mahoney grabbed his arm and wrestled him facedown to the pavement. Rashida kicked the gun from out of the man’s reach while Mendez, Mahoney, and I fought and struggled to cuff him. My knee was on the man’s lower back while Rashida held his other arm for Mahoney to cuff. The man winced in pain as Mahoney tightened and locked the cuffs.
“Fuck you, pigs! I didn’t kill anybody. I want a fucking lawyer,” the perp said, squirming while Mendez frisked him before raising him up off the ground.
He hocked up the phlegm in his throat, turned his head, spat, and kicked at Mendez and Mahoney as they struggled to put him in the backseat of their marked car.
Winded, I asked Mendez, “Where are the cops Central said were shot?”
“Once we pulled up, we saw this guy holding a gun with blood all over him. He bolted, and we chased after him. We didn’t get to look for the other cops.”
“I’m on it. Handle things with this guy.”
Rashida and I ran around the corner. I scanned the area, and my eyes landed on a patrol car riddled with bullets on the corner of Gansevoot and Washington Streets. My heartbeat sped up. People were crowding around two men lying on the sidewalk in front of the Allouche Art Gallery.
“I’ll check on the men on the ground,” Rashida said, sprinting toward them.
Several shots were in the car doors, windows, and windshield. Gomez slumped against the driver’s-side door. His eyes were open and glazed over, but he wasn’t blinking. Roberts was shaking and holding his throat. I opened the driver’s-side door and gasped when I saw Gomez’s bullet-riddled body and a gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead. He was gone.
I moved toward the passenger side and opened the door, and Roberts fell to the concrete, gasping, grunting, and holding his neck. His bloody hands were covering a wound where he was hit in the throat, straining to breathe.
“Fuck,” I yelled.
Rashida came over to me.
“Both of the guys across the street were shot and killed—”
“Gomez and Roberts are hurt.”
Rashida stared at Gomez.
“Boss ... Gomez is—”
“I know, but we have to try. We can’t let both of them die out here.”
My trembling hands reached to key in my radio. “Central, I need you to rush buses to this location now. We have confirmed four men shot. Two unidentified males and two officers. I repeat, two officers have been shot.”
I was nervous, but I needed to keep my composure. Panic was on Roberts’s face. Tears streamed from his eyes as he looked at me, and his legs kicked frantically as he fought to live.
“You’re going to be OK. Don’t give up on me, Roberts. Stay with me,” I shouted.
I couldn’t wait for the ambulance. I had to get Gomez and Roberts to a hospital ASAP.
“Fuck it. Rashida, let’s go. Grab Gomez. We’ll throw them both in the back of the car and drive them to Bellevue. We don’t have time to wait for the bus.”
Rashida nodded and helped me put Roberts and Gomez in the back of our patrol car.
More units arrived at the scene. I rushed over and immediately started delegating tasks. I pointed to the first group and said, “I need you to wait for EMS to take care of the victims across the street.”
I faced the other group. “I need you to search for witnesses and cameras in the area that might’ve caught this guy kill
ing everyone.”
Everyone dispersed to handle their assignments. I hurried back to my car.
We screeched away from the corner, swerving in and out of traffic. At some places, Rashida drove on the sidewalk to avoid traffic and make it to the hospital as fast as possible. I turned to the backseat. Roberts’s movements were gradually slowing down. Gomez’s glassy, lifeless eyes were staring back at me. I didn’t want to believe it, but he was dead. I sighed and focused my attention on Roberts.
“Stay with me, OK? We’re going to get you some help. We’re almost there.”
I keyed the microphone on my radio and said, “Sixth Precinct Sergeant.”
“Sergeant, proceed.”
“Central, please contact Bellevue and advise them that I’m taking the two injured officers to the hospital myself. The officers are badly injured, and we’re losing time waiting for the ambulance.”
“10-4, Sergeant. I’m putting in the notification now.”
Once we pulled up to the hospital, the staff hurried outside with gurneys and equipment and rushed the officers inside. Blood covered my uniform and trembling hands. Rashida and I exchanged scared looks as we watched the hospital staff frantically work on Gomez and Roberts. My cell phone buzzed with a call from my commanding officer.
“Williams, where are you?” Inspector Phillips asked.
I brought him up to speed with all the details on the scene.
“Jesus, I’m on my way. Are you all right?”
“I’m good. I just hope the paramedics can save them. Once everything is cleared up, I’ll head back and take care of everything at the scene—”
“Everything at the scene is under control. I sent Captain Wallace there. I want you to make sure you’re all right. You saw a lot tonight. You can’t help anyone else if your head’s not focused.”
“Honestly, I’m good.”
“Keep me posted on Roberts and Gomez’s conditions if anything changes before I get there.”
“Yes, sir.”
I ended the call. The hospital staff looked up at me and shook their heads with saddened expressions. I knew it was too late. They both had passed.
Chapter 2
Ben
The Token
I gradually opened my eyes and gathered my bearings as I heard my cell phone buzzing. I felt around the nightstand for my phone and grabbed it. The neon red digits on my cable box read two forty-three in the morning. Becky was sound asleep in my arms, nuzzled against my chest as I answered my cell phone.
“Hello,” I said groggily.
“Ben, I need you to wake up, buddy.”
I squinted to read the name of the person that was crazy enough to call me this early in the morning. My eyes bulged. I sat up when I realized it was Tim, one of the partners from my law firm.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Ben, we need you to come to the firm ASAP. An important case just came in, and it could define your career in a very positive way if you pull out a win.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t have time to get into all the particulars. Hurry. The other partners and I will brief you when you get here.”
“I’m on my way now, sir.”
He ended the call.
I tried to ease out of bed without waking Becky. I tossed the covers off and draped my legs over the side of the bed. Becky stirred and rolled over next to me, her hard pink nipples exposed. She stretched and yawned.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Almost three.”
“What’s going on? What do they want now?”
Becky was used to seeing me jump whenever the partners called.
“I gotta go. A big case came in, and they want me to handle it.”
“Ugh, it’s so early.”
“I know. Get some sleep, baby. I’ll call you once things calm down.”
“Since I’m up now, wanna have a quickie before you go in? You’ll be more relaxed for work.”
“Rain check.”
Rebecca sulked and buried her face in the pillow.
Seeing her lying there naked was tempting, but I didn’t want to start something I couldn’t finish. After I showered and got dressed, I rushed toward the door.
“Don’t work too hard, babe. Call me when you get a free minute during the day,” she said, adjusting my tie.
“I will. I promise.”
I gave her a quick kiss and ran out the door of our brownstone. Since it was early in the morning, I figured the commute from Fort Green, Brooklyn, to the firm in Midtown Manhattan shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes.
I was a junior associate at one of the biggest law firms in New York—Wayne, Rothstein, and Lincoln. I was also the only African American associate. Many at the firm felt that I was only hired because of affirmative action. Working in a prestigious law firm came with loads of responsibilities, and being the only black associate, I had to work twice as hard as the other associates just to be seen for who I was and what I was capable of.
I spent eight years grinding, busting my ass night in and night out, sometimes working eighteen hours a day so I’d be taken seriously and earn the respect of the partners. I sacrificed, missing important events, special milestones, and anniversaries with Becky and my family to take on every assignment the partners asked of me. I wanted to make a name for myself and rise in the firm, with one goal: making partner. I did everything possible to be close to flawless in my work. I’d seen firsthand how different things were when a white associate made a mistake and when I, their token black guy, made one. One fuckup would erase all the positive things I’d done and bring me back to square one.
With all my hard work, the partners often had me serve as the first chair, along with the senior partners on some of the most critical and newsworthy cases handled by the firm. If what Tim said was true, this case had to be huge and might be what I needed to push the firm to make me a partner finally.
I turned on the radio and flipped to the go-to news station in NY, 1010 Wins, to get an idea of what I was going in for as I sped to the firm.
The top news was about a rapper named “Co-Kayne” who was arrested for killing a pair of cops and a gay couple. The police found him standing over the couple’s bodies, holding the murder weapon and covered in their blood. I prayed that wasn’t the case I was handling, but I was sure that it probably was. Other trending news was about an NBA player, Johnny Alfieri, who was scheduled to turn himself in to the police after a stripper made claims that he raped her.
* * *
I pulled up to the firm and parked my BMW 750 in the parking lot underneath the building. Bill, another associate who had a winning record as good as mine, pulled his Range Rover into a spot close to me. The guy exuded confidence. He was a brown-haired, blue-eyed pretty boy that joked and laughed with the partners regularly. They playfully teased him about his black girlfriend, and, when they thought I was out of earshot, shared stories with him about the times they fucked black women. He had lots of photos with his girlfriend all over his office, but I kept very few personal things in mine. I heard how the other partners dogged black women. I didn’t want them to have animosity toward me because I was dating a white one. I kept my private life private.
To most of the people of color around the firm, Bill gave the appearance of being “down.” If you closed your eyes and heard him speak, he even sounded “black.” Every morning, he greeted and hugged the firm’s only black secretary, Mrs. Wilson, but I knew it was all for show. While he might’ve had her and most of the minorities around the office fooled, I saw through his façade. He was just another bigot that hid it well.
“You’re here early,” I said as we walked toward the elevator.
“Yeah, Francis said he and the other partners needed me to come in for a case ASAP.”
“Me too. Tim called me. I wonder why they needed both of us.”
Bill’s cell phone buzzed on our way up to the office. He pulled it out of his pants pocket and answe
red it.
“Hey, babe, I had to come into work early. What’s up?” he said.
His eyes widened. “Oh my God. Are you OK?”
He looked shaken and alarmed by the call.
“Fuck it, where are you? I’ll come to you. It doesn’t matter if I’m at the firm. I’ll explain to the partners I have a family emergency. Babe ... You say you’re all right, but I can hear in your voice you’re shaken up. All right, I’ll calm down, but as soon as I handle things here, I’ll call you. I love you, babe. See you soon.”
He ended the call.
“You all right?” I asked.
“My girl is a sergeant for NYPD in Manhattan. Some rapper went crazy and killed two cops she worked with and two other guys around a club on Washington Street. The cops died right after she rushed them to the hospital.”
“I heard about that on the radio on the way here. Sorry about your girl.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
There was an awkward silence for a minute.
“I wonder if that’s the case they want us to handle,” I said.
“I hope not. It’ll be a conflict of interest for me.”
We took the elevator to the twenty-first floor, walked down the hall to the conference room, and saw the three partners of the law firm, Richard Wayne, Tim Rothstein, and Francis Lincoln, sitting at the head of the long mahogany conference table.
“All right, gentlemen, have a seat,” Richard said. “We’re pressed for time, so we need to move fast. I’m going to be talking quickly, so I suggest both of you take notes.”
I nodded and took out my legal pad.
“The firm picked up two clients with very difficult cases. One of the clients is the rapper Co-Kayne that allegedly killed two cops and a gay couple. Our other client is an NBA player that allegedly raped a stripper at a gentlemen’s club.”
I knew he was worried about these cases. His face was as red as his bloodshot eyes. Richard slid a file over to me.
“Ben, we want you to handle the rapper case. You’re going to be the first chair, and Tim will be second to help advise and oversee everything.”
Defining Moments Page 1
