With the explanation that I was aware of the rule, I told him that I had lost my mother and grandmother to death during my incarceration. I
went on to tell him that I was living in a shelter. I had just gotten my children back, and I didn’t have anyone to keep them. Every time I thought about my situation, I instantly felt weak and tears welled up in my eyes. These were the kind of tears that I could not stop from running down my cheeks no matter
how hard I tried.
“Ms. Stanton, you need to find someone to keep your children, and
report back here in the morning!” He yelled.
I did as he instructed. My aunt kept my children the next morning. I had to take them back to the same home that I vowed never to return to. I suppressed every depressing hair-raising thought to the back of my mind, and began my journey to the parole office.
When I arrived at the parole office I signed my name on the clip-
board, and just as soon as I put the pen down, I was immediately escorted to the back. Once I was there, to my surprise, two federal agents were awaiting my arrival to arrest me for conspiracy. They called it conspiracy against the federal government. Before I knew it, I was in the back of their vehicle, hand-
cuffed yet again, and headed to the Richard B. Russell building.
I was in a total state of shock. I was under the presumption that I had
served all my time. Now what was going to happen to my children? On the way to the Russell building, I was surprised when federal agent, Steve Lazarus asked me if I was interested in making my case disappear. I was all ears
while wondering just exactly how we could make that happen.
The federal agent told me all I had to do was set up Jeezy. I could
have literally dropped dead. Not believing what I had just heard. The first thought that came to mind was how the hell did they knew I had any affiliation to Young Jeezy? I hadn’t seen or spoken to Jeezy in over two years. So
what or who gave the feds the impression that it could be pulled off?
I mean even if I could, Jeezy had nothing to do with my case. Why
would I set this man up because I got in trouble on a case that he knew noth-
ing about? Jeezy didn’t even know I was in prison.
“How do you know I know Jay?” I asked.
“We have our ways of finding out anything we want to know Ms.
Stanton!” He answered with a smug smirk on his face.
He wouldn’t admit it, but I already knew. The feds had been listen-
ing in on my telephone conversations. When I was locked up, all my phone calls had secretly been recorded. While I was serving time in state prison, the feds had been busy preparing their case against me. Every time I made a phone call they were eavesdropping, listening for any information that might
further incriminate me.
Out of curiosity, I played along with their game. I wanted to see
what kind of case they were trying to build against Jeezy. Then Agent Lazarus gave it to me straight when he asked, “Do you think you can get him to
sell you some drugs?”
In my mind, I was pondering, were they stupid? I’m not a drug deal-
er. Jeezy knows that! I couldn’t believe that they played the game just as dirty as the streets played it. If they wanted Jeezy that bad they would have to get him on their own. I refused to be a part of their ploy. Jeezy had never done anything to me, or anyone I knew. I was not going to help the feds bring him down. My case was my own responsibility and Young Jeezy had nothing to do with my misdeeds. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I had to get
a message back to Jay.
Crying the whole time, I sat in the holding-cell waiting for my turn
to see the Judge. When I finally saw the Judge, I begged for mercy. I got down on my knees, and I begged. I asked the Judge why didn’t they just come and pick me up directly from prison. Why would anybody allow me to bond with my children, and then snatch me away from them again? I explained what I had been through. There was the loss of my mother and grandmother, and all the time, I kept begging for mercy. And it was nothing more than pure mercy that was granted. The Judge allowed me to sign my own bond. He placed me on the pre-trial release program, and I was once again free. Not only was I
now on parole, but I was now on state, county, and federal parole.
Walking away from the Richard Russell building, something trig-
gered in my mind. I wondered if Phaedra Parks already knew what was coming my way. I still hadn’t heard from her. What in the world was going on? I had to get in touch with her now. I didn’t have anything or anybody. All I kept
thinking to myself was when or if this was ever going to be over.
I got on the bus that day and I gazed out the window. The bus passed
by the tall glass fixtures that adorned downtown Atlanta. I kept wondering, what next? Phaedra had not returned any of my calls. She was really my only hope. It never once crossed my mind that she had or would even consider turning her back on me.
We had known each other for years. She had bonded not only with
me, but also with my children, and my family. I started rationalizing. Maybe she got cold feet. Maybe she thought since my case was being picked up by the feds… I mean I just didn’t know. Was there a possibility that she thought I would sing? My mind was drowning in a sea of uncertainty, and I needed
life support.
Telling on Phaedra had never once crossed my mind. I had already
been dragged through the system. Implicating her now could only make things worse. I thought for sure I would have heard from her by now, so I decided to stop by her office. When I walked up to the receptionist’s desk and asked to see her, I saw the green and white striped wall paper which brought
back memories.
A phone call was made to her office. The receptionist said, “Ms. Parks, Angela Stanton is here to see you.” I was so excited when I learned that she was in the office. I had finally caught up with her. All kind of things
began running through my mind as I imagined what our reunion would be like. What would she look like? Would she be happy to see me? What was
her excuse for not answering or returning my calls…?
Moments later, the receptionist told me that Ms. Parks was in a
meeting, and would be tied up all day. My hopes were dashed and I instantly dropped my head. I didn’t want the receptionist to see the despair in my eyes. At this point I was thinking hard and fast. My sixth sense had kicked in once again, and something just didn’t smell right. Before I walked out, I left Phaedra a copy of my manuscript, and the address to the shelter that I was
residing at with my children.
Three months passed and still no word from Phaedra. I was at Spondivits, a seafood restaurant on the south side of ATL, hanging with my cousin, Nikki, and enjoying a night out with some old friends. I ran into Jeezy and his entourage. I walked right up to him and said, “Hey Jay baby, how you been? I see you all over the TV doing your thing! I’m so proud of you!” Then I gave him a big hug.
“Girl, I ain’t seen you in a long time. Where you been?” he asked.
“I’m doing better now,” I said with a smile.
Then I gave him the story about how I had been in prison the last
couple of years, and I also told him I needed to talk with him about some business. He gave me a number, I locked it in my phone, and before he left he was sure to extend me an invite to kick it with him and his crew. I politely declined, and I promise that it wasn’t because I did not want to go. It was
simply that my life was different now. I wasn’t the same girl he used to know.
I didn’t want to bring up the situation about the feds right then. There were too many people around him, and the atmosphere just wasn’t
right. I knew there was a certain protocol I had to follow in order to present the information to Jeezy regarding the federal agents
. I also knew that he didn’t want all of the people around him to be in on his business.
Over the next few days, I called the number several times without
ever getting an answer. Finally, after realizing that he had given me his manager’s number, Coach K, and not his direct number, I had no other choice but to relay the message to Coach K. Jeezy never called me to inquire, so I figured he had it all worked out.
I had been through the ringer and back trying to get my life back on
track, and provide a home for my children. Thirty days was the maximum amount of time I could spend at any shelter. People can’t live there forever. Months went by and still no word from Phaedra. By this time I was living in a two bedroom apartment. Small, shaggy, and in the best neighborhood I could afford. I didn’t want my sons to grow up around drugs, or exposed to a
lifestyle that would land them in prison or the grave.
During those thirty days, I endlessly searched for employment. I
was denied job after job after job. I wasn’t a dummy. I could read, write, and spell. I mean how difficult could it be to work a job in today’s society? It had nothing at all to do with working the job, but rather my criminal past which presented a great barrier. The background check, every time it was done,
reminded me that I would never ever be truly free.
Why even release me from prison if it was going to be impossible
for me to survive in the free world? As far as I was concerned, I was still in captivity. This method has made the prison system a revolving door and the crime rate will always be on the rise. This was the reason why the number of homeless people increases. This was why there are so many repeat offenders.
You would be set free, but were really not freed! This can prove to be tiring.
Do you try figuring it out...? And will that moment come too late?
I applied for Section 8 and Housing Assistance. I was promptly de-
nied by both departments because I was a convicted felon. This latest blow came as a surprise. Anytime I had ever gone to the projects, the place was infested with crime, and convicted felons. I never even wanted to live in the
projects, but would have now. It wasn’t like we had anywhere else to go.
It got so bad at one point that I auditioned for a job as a stripper. I
was hired at a nightclub, and applied for my dancer’s permit. It was promptly denied because I was a convicted felon. That also came as a huge surprise to me. It was a major blow to any financial aspirations that I held. You mean to tell me, that because I was a convicted felon, I couldn’t stand on a table, and
degrade myself for a few lousy dollars? Sh** was getting real serious...
I thought I could bend over and show what I ate for breakfast to
anyone I chose. I was just upgraded from modern day slave, so I couldn’t get butt-ass-naked? McDonalds wasn’t even an option. I didn’t have any housing assistance so a two-bedroom apartment was six hundred and seventy-five dollars monthly, and that was in the hood. Of course, the rent didn’t include any utilities at all. By the time I worked forty hours at McDonalds earning $5.75 an hour, I still wouldn’t have enough money to pay rent. That gig
wasn’t even worth my time.
The move into a two-bedroom apartment with my children was a
start. It was hard, but I began thinking that about a month earlier I was in prison, and I became grateful. Two days before my time expired at the shelter I was downtown job searching and met a man. He was just a friendly guy. We began to talk and I told him my story. For some reason he seemed genuinely concerned. He told me that he had a friend who needed to talk with me, a friend that could possibly help me. The very next evening I met with him and
his friend, both angels sent to me from heaven!
The agreement was that I was to marry this man in order for him
to stay in the United States. He was from Africa. I would get fifteen thousand dollars just to sign my name on the dotted line. The movie, Coming to America, starring Eddie Murphy, started to play in my mind.
Just in case you were wondering, I never even thought twice about
it. I agreed without hesitation. The man gave me five thousand dollars cash, and told me he would return to the states in three months with the other ten thousand dollars. We were to be married when he returned. Oddly enough, he never came back. I still have not heard from him or seen him since that day. God works in mysterious ways. He had made a way out when there was
no way.
I took the five thousand dollars cash, and got me and my children
somewhere decent to live. Then I bought us a ride. A good jump-start to whatever God had in store for us. Once we moved and got settled in our new home, I was able to sit down, and sort through boxes of my belongings which
my brother had held in storage for me.
By the time I went through the second box, I found all of the contact
numbers I had on Phaedra. I had her home, office, and cellphone numbers. These were numbers I had forgotten during the eighteen months of my incarceration. I knew I could reach her on her cellphone without a doubt. I grabbed
my cellphone and I dialed the number.
“Ms. Parks speaking,” she answered on the first ring. The confi-
dence in her tone convinced me that everything would be okay.
“Hey Phaedra…” I responded in a mild mannered voice. “Phaedra,
this is Angela. I know you’ve been busy, but I’ve been trying to contact you. You know the feds locked me up, right…? I just got out, Phae! I can’t leave my kids again! They don’t have anyone besides me Phaedra, and you know
that! I just don’t know what to do!”
I spoke as calmly as I could. I promise you, eyes hadn’t seen and
ears hadn’t heard the words I really wanted to tell her. However, my back was against the wall. I needed her more now than ever. She, on the other hand, acted surprised. It was as if she knew nothing at all about my federal charges.
She even seemed shocked, and offended that I had even called her.
When she got over the shock, Phaedra went right into her routine. Pleading her case to the court, she let me know straight up that she was afraid. At least, that’s what she told me. Phaedra claimed that her whole life and everything she had worked so hard to build was at stake. I informed her that I had already lost everything, and I had grown tired of hearing about her life. She wasn’t even considering my present life situation.
My main concern was, of course, my children. Phaedra told me that
she received my manuscript and had passed it along to a friend of hers who was an editor. I didn’t know whether to believe this or not. She also told me to inform the court that she would be representing me, and claimed that it would be a year or two before my trial. In the meantime, she wanted to work
on getting my manuscript out there.
I could tell by our conversation, or should I say that little thing
called discernment, that Phaedra really wasn’t feeling me anymore. In my heart, I truly believed that she had decided to cut ties with her criminal side, and live a normal life. That was fine with me, but we had unfinished business. I needed to restore my life, for the sake of my children, and there was no way
that I could afford a lawyer to help me beat this case.
Returning to prison meant my children would go to Department of Family and Children Services (DFACS). It was something I refused to let my children experience. If she no longer wanted my friendship, then that was fine, but I needed, and wanted my freedom. My children needed and wanted my freedom. Just like Phaedra had said, it took a year or two before for my trial would begin, so I tried my best to live a normal life, and stay out of the
limelight.
The five thousand dollars didn’t last forever. Before long, my chil-
dren were looking to me for shelter, food, and love. I was unable to provide any of the material things, but love came o
n demand. My mind was going, and I was contemplating putting an end to my existence. Not only did I contemplate suicide, but also taking the lives of my children right along with mine. This was a thought that I had never shared with anybody until now. It
was so hard to love when you are stuck inside of a dark, cold place.
I had grown tired of watching my children suffer, and thoughts of all
the tricks I had learned from Phaedra kept breezing through my mind. I had to be strong, so I pushed all thoughts of suicide completely out of my head. I knew I only had one life to live, and I felt that I was sent here for a reason. Lastly, my life wasn’t mine to take.
In order to survive, I did what I had to do. I prayed daily that I
wouldn’t get caught. I know a lot of people don’t agree with what was just recorded, but I was not asking you for agreement. I wanted you to understand. If there was no comprehension then try empathizing. In other words, put yourself in my shoes for one second.
Chapter Ten
Three Steps Short Of A Breakthrough
“No weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed,
and you shall confute every tongue that rises against you in judgment.
This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord and their vindication from me, declares the Lord.” Isaiah 54:17 (NIV)
I was pumping gas at a service station near my rundown apartment. The kids were in the back seat going crazy. They were fighting, throwing things, and yelling. I guess the normal things that any two, five, eight, and ten year olds did. But on this particular day, it was obviously one of my days when I had put much thought into the reality of my mother no longer being on this earth. I had basically lost it, and right there at the gas pump. I was
hysterically crying, I was completely inconsolable.
A kind and understanding gentleman walked up to me. He asked
Lies of a Real Housewife: Tell the Truth and Shame the Devil Page 14
