Defining Moments

by Ben Burgess Jr.

  * * *

  “Hey,” I said, feeling deflated.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t look like your usual corny self,” Reggie joked.

  “Listen, is there anything else you can tell me about that night? I’m trying to attack this case from every angle, but I’m running out of ammunition.”

  “What? What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying if we don’t come up with something big to help prove your innocence, it doesn’t look good for us.”

  “Us? What do you mean us? They’re gonna lock my black ass up for life.” Reggie shook his head. Anger was all over his face.

  “You really had me buggin’, believing I had a legit chance to be free of this shit. I should’ve never let you put those bullshit thoughts in my head. It’s over for me.”

  “That’s not true, Reggie. I’m trying to help you.”

  “Nah, you don’t give a shit about me,” he said. “You just want to prolong this shit to get paid. I get it. Just let the hood nigga rot in jail for the rest of his life while the Oreo lives the high life, huh? I can’t believe you. You knew you couldn’t win this from the beginning, and you played me. You made me think I could have a normal life when this was all over, and I’m the real sucker because I believed you. I’ve dealt with a lot of hustlers in the street, and none of them got me to buy the shit they were selling like you. You’re the smoothest hustler I ever met.”

  “Reggie, it’s not like that,” I said. “I’m trying to help.”

  “Cut the bullshit. From now on, don’t talk to me. I got nothing else to say to you. I’ll sit there in court and wait to hear my guilty verdict.”

  Reggie stood up fast, letting his chair fall behind him. He gave me the finger with both hands as he walked away backward. Then he faced the door and called for the guards to let him out.

  The clock was ticking. I needed to find a way to win this case.

  * * *

  Usually, after a rough day in court, I had Becky and Gabby to comfort me, but since neither of them was talking to me, I was alone. I went to my parents’ place for advice and support.

  I opened the door to their place and loosened my tie. As I walked around the house, I saw Dad sitting in his office playing himself at chess.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “How was the trial today, son?”

  “Terrible. Where’s Mom?”

  “She’s out shopping with Simone,” he said. “I told them both that I did some investigating on your aunt Joan and found out that Simone’s sister lives in the Bronx and has a successful photography business. They went to the mall to think on whether Simone should go to the business and meet her. I say yes. It’s always good to meet your family. But anyway, why was your trial so terrible?”

  I explained what went down.

  “Son, no one ever said this trial was going to be easy. You’re going to have to weather the storm and stay strong.”

  “It’s not just the fear of losing the case,” I said. “Reggie thinks I’m not putting my all into defending him, and I’m going to let him rot in prison for life. He believes I’m some boujie Oreo that only dates white women and doesn’t care about our people. Every black person I meet seems to think the same thing. All my life, I’ve been either too black for white people or not black enough for our people.”

  “Do you feel you’re that way?” Dad asked.

  “No.”

  “Son, James Brown once said, A man can’t get himself together until he knows who he is, and be proud of what and who he is and where he comes from.’ I watched you struggle for years, trying to figure out if you’re black enough and hoping to be accepted. Until you love yourself for who you are and what you’re about, you’ll never find peace.”

  I slowly nodded as he continued.

  “You can never forget black history, because it’s a part of who you are, and the world will always remind you that you’re a black man, but if you make a conscious effort to improve the world and the lives of our people, if you understand the plight that less fortunate people in our race face on a regular basis and seek positive change, then you know in your heart you’re ‘black enough.’ You won’t ever have to worry about proving it to another brotha or sista again.”

  And just like that, I finally fully understood what the purpose of those trips to his old neighborhood were about. My dad knew that some people viewed him as a sellout. He was aware that there were some that were just using him, but in his heart, he knew that his purpose for going down to that neighborhood was right, so he didn’t need validation from the community on whether he was “black enough”—he knew it.

  I hugged my father.

  “Thanks, Dad. You don’t know how badly I needed to hear this today.”

  “Anytime, son.”

  * * *

  I closed my eyes and pressed my fingertips to my temples, slowly massaging them as I sat in my office, thinking about my next move.

  Cardboard file boxes were piled all over my desk. I was in full panic mode. Unless I came up with something immediately, I was going to lose this case, and Reggie would spend the rest of his life in prison for no reason. The thought did cross my mind that maybe he was lying and all of this stress and aggravation was for nothing, but his story never changed.

  I looked through the various videos of the outside cameras, briefs, and witness testimonies, but I couldn’t find anything that would prove Reggie’s innocence. I rewatched all the videos. Sometimes lawyers and cops could get so focused on a particular person that they developed tunnel vision and failed to see other minute details and possible scenarios around them. However, I found nothing.

  As a last resort, I went back to the crime scene. I walked around all the nearby businesses in the vicinity that might’ve caught the incident. I needed anything that could help prove there was another person involved.

  I sat inside Hector’s Café and Diner after I failed to find anything new. While paying the cashier, I noticed the TV screen with the diner’s surveillance cameras on it. I noticed the camera angled on the registers.

  “Excuse me. Are these cameras new?”

  “No, we’ve always had them,” the cashier said.

  I’d overlooked this angle because it was an inside camera, but the way it was situated, if it was on the video files the cops gave me, it could’ve caught a direct view of the murders in the background.

  I quickly paid my bill, pulled out my cell phone, and called Tim.

  “What’s up, Ben?” he asked.

  “I think I found what was missing to win this case.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was at the diner across from the crime scene. If we have all the camera angles like the detectives say we do, we might be able to prove that there was another person present.”

  “We need to see that video.”

  “I’m rushing back to the firm now.”

  * * *

  “Right there—freeze that frame,” Tim said.

  On the screen was the image of an unidentified, dark-skinned, black man wearing similar clothes to Reggie—but with a red and black hat and matching sneakers—murdering the gay couple and then rushing toward the cop car and killing the policemen.

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re really going to pull this off. You did it, Ben,” Tim said.

  I smiled and pulled up the video from the club where Reggie was. Sure enough, it showed him leaving the club at the exact time the couple was being murdered. The camera from the diner showed the blind spot that we didn’t have before of Reggie and the real killer colliding. Reggie was telling the truth all along, and this video had been in our possession the entire time. I rushed to make a clip and sent a copy to the district attorney.

  * * *

  The commotion and chatter from the jury and spectators after watching the clip caused the judge to bang his gavel down heavily.

  “Order. Order in the court! Will the defendant please rise?”

  Everyone was stunned at the video.
I was certain they would’ve found Reggie guilty without it. The jury’s demeanor previously gave the impression that they didn’t believe there was another shooter, after all the evidence pointed to Reggie. This cleared him and kept an innocent man from going to prison for life.

  “Your Honor, due to the newly found evidence that has been presented to us, our office declines to prosecute further and moves to dismiss all charges against the defendant,” the district attorney said.

  Reggie was crying. He couldn’t stop thanking me.

  I smiled.

  “You’re welcome, but face the judge,” I said.

  The judge cleared his throat. “It’s the court’s decision to grant the prosecution’s motion to dismiss. All charges against the defendant Reginald Brown are hereby dismissed with prejudice. You’re free to go, Mr. Brown.”

  We walked out of the courtroom and were engulfed by a sea of the press and spectators. CNN, FOX, CBS, and other news vans were parked outside. Camera flashes went off all around Reggie as thousands of fans and spectators reached out and called for him. Reporters stuck microphones in front of him. Tears streamed down Reggie’s face as reporters asked him questions.

  “Co-Kayne, how does it feel to be proven innocent?”

  “Yo, I just want to say thank you to my lawyer Ben Turner,” he said. “He had my back from day one and never gave up on me. When everyone thought I was guilty, Ben was the only person that believed me when I said I didn’t do it. I figured I was finished. I thought my life was over, but Ben wouldn’t stop trying to show the world that I was innocent. He saved my life, and I can’t thank him enough.”

  Reggie turned and faced me. He pushed through the dozens of microphones and cameras being shoved in his way.

  “Come here, man,” Reggie said.

  He hugged me and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for not giving up on me when I had already given up on myself.”

  Chapter 43

  Becky

  Disowned

  I was dispiritedly eating dinner with my parents at home. I should be ecstatic with my novel being number two on the New York Times bestsellers list. My novel was getting rave reviews, and the sales numbers were the largest for any novel published by Legacy Books nationally, but I missed Ben. Having my book released on Valentine’s Day and Ben not being around to help me celebrate broke my heart. I spent that entire day in my bedroom crying and wondering what Ben was doing. Not getting any type of communication from him on Valentine’s Day confirmed that we were over. I wondered if he’d spent it with Gabby.

  “You know, your father and I are used to seeing you quit everything you do,” Mom said. “It’s good to see you stuck with your writing. I always thought it was a silly hobby, but your book is doing very well. We’re proud of you, Rebecca.”

  “Thanks,” I said, poking my steak with my fork.

  “Yes, Becky Bear. It looks like your life is finally turning around,” Dad said.

  I didn’t respond. He grabbed the television remote and changed the channel on the TV mounted on the wall from FOX Business to FOX News. I saw Ben standing next to his client doing a press conference. The headline read: Rapper acquitted on all murder charges after surveillance video cleared him.

  “Ha. It looks like your loser ex pulled it off,” Dad said.

  I was so happy for Ben. No one deserved the win or the partnership more than he did. He’d worked his ass off for years, and it was nice to see all that hard work had paid off. Seeing Ben on TV only confirmed that I needed to talk to him. My book’s success, my parents—nothing mattered if I didn’t have him in my life.

  “I have to see him,” I said, pushing away from the table.

  “Rebecca, leave him be,” Dad said. “You’re doing fine without him. This is all for the best.”

  “It’s not fine. I love him.”

  “Rebecca, you made your choice, and he made his. You know what you’ll lose if you marry him,” Dad threatened.

  I didn’t care about the money or what everyone else thought. My heart was with Ben, and I wanted to be with him even if it meant giving up everything.

  “I don’t care about the money, Dad. You can’t control me with that anymore. I make my own money.”

  “So, you’re willing to give up your family to chase some nigger?” Dad said. “Let him take care of you. Pack two bags with as much as you can carry. Whatever you leave here with are the last things you’ll ever get from your mother and me. Oh, and while you’re at it, hand me your house and car keys.”

  “You would really disown me?” I said, staring at him.

  “Without hesitation,” he said sharply.

  “Mom, you’re going to let this happen?”

  She didn’t answer. I saw the pained expression on her face as she turned her head. I was sure she wanted to say something on my behalf, but she was a kept woman, and I knew she didn’t want to risk ruining that.

  “Fine. I’ll start packing,” I said.

  “I’ll have Bernard get the car ready so that he can drop you off,” Dad said. “Once you step out of these doors and go to him, you’re dead to us. You better hope your nigger takes you back.”

  Tears streamed down my face. I couldn’t believe my father would talk to his only child like this.

  I packed my bags and walked to the door. Dad was in his study. Mom was standing by the front door with Bernard.

  “Becky, please don’t do this,” she said. “Just go upstairs and let’s pretend this never happened.”

  I shook my head.

  “Rebecca, can you stop fighting me and listen for once? Life doesn’t have to be so hard. You’re making this situation harder than it needs to be. Forget about Ben.”

  “Mom, I’m not like you,” I said. “I’m not prim and proper, and I’m not going to stop fighting for something I love because Daddy wants to control me. I’m going to live my life and be happy. He’s kicking me out of his life, but both of you will always have a place in mine.”

  Mom hugged me one last time, wiped her eyes, and walked upstairs.

  “Are you ready, Ms. Rebecca?” Bernard asked.

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  * * *

  Bernard dropped me off.

  “For what it’s worth, Ms. Rebecca, I think what you’re doing is noble and brave. You’re a strong, young woman, and I wish you nothing but the best.”

  I smiled through my tears. “Thank you, Bernard.”

  “I’m sure your father will want me to dispose of your things. When you patch things up with your fiancé, I will have everything stored for you so you can pick them up when you’re ready.”

  I hugged him.

  “Well, goodbye, Ms. Rebecca.”

  “Goodbye, Bernard, and thank you.”

  We hugged again, and he wished me well. I sat on the stairs in front of my old townhouse and texted Simone, letting her know what happened.

  Me: Well, it’s official. My parents disowned me and kicked me out. I’m sitting on the stoop in front of Ben’s townhouse, hoping he’ll take me back. I gave up everything for him.

  Simone: What? I can’t believe it, and, of course, he’ll take you back. He drowned himself with work, but I know for a fact he was just as miserable as you were. I’m on my way. At least you can sit in the car with me until Ben comes home to let you in.

  Me: You’re the best.

  Simone: I know this.

  A huge raindrop landed on my forehead. It started to drizzle, and I prayed this wasn’t a bad sign.

  Chapter 44

  Ben

  Disappointment

  “How do you feel?” Richard asked me.

  We were back at the firm. Mrs. Wilson placed champagne and glasses in the conference room to celebrate the victory.

  I gave Richard a faux smile.

  “I feel good. I’m just happy this is all over, and I’m excited to embrace my lifelong goal of becoming a partner.”

  Richard, Tim, and Francis exchanged looks. Tim reeled back in hi
s black executive chair. He looked uncomfortable before he spoke.

  “About that ... Well, it might be awhile before you become a partner, buddy,” Tim said.

  My smile quickly faded. “What do you mean, Tim? I sat with the three of you, right here in this conference room, and all of you assured me that if I did the impossible and pulled out a victory for this case, I’d make partner.”

  Tim couldn’t look me in the eyes. Richard stood, turned his back to me, and stared out the window.

  “Now, Ben, we never promised you that you’d be a partner,” Francis said. “We said you’d be considered, and we did consider you, but we decided to go another route.”

  I willed myself to calm down and shook my head. “May I ask who the worthy one was that beat me out of the partnership?”

  “We went with Mark Cruz,” Richard said over his shoulder without turning to look at me.

  I nodded slowly. “And you felt that he contributed to this firm more than I have in his short time here? I’ve been with this firm for nine years. He’s been here for two.”

  “Now, Ben, there is no doubt you work hard for this firm,” Francis said. “You’re a strong, competent lawyer, and everyone in this room likes you. We’ve trusted you with a lot of high-profile cases, and today, you pulled off a miracle, but there’s always room for growth. We gave you the incentive to grow with our consideration, and look at how well you did. In time, if you keep working hard for us, you’ll make partner someday.”

  I curled my lips and exhaled slowly. I didn’t want to say something I’d regret, but I was having a hard time holding my tongue.

  “Sir, if not now, then when? Mark is a decent lawyer, but I put my heart and soul into working for that position. Dangling the possibility of one day making partner in my face feels like I’m being strung along and used. You haven’t given him half of the responsibilities or difficult cases that I’ve been given. He took over the Alfieri case and lost. I’ve given this firm nine years of devotion, time away from my fiancée, my family, and my friends, because that’s how much making partner meant to me, and to see it go to someone who hasn’t been here as long as I have or who has put in as much work as I do ... I’m sorry, but it isn’t right.”