Across The Tracks

by Xyla Turner

  I took the liberty to look up his statistics and here are some more interesting facts:

  Statistic 4: Mr. Well’s conviction rate is in the 70%.

  Statistic 5: Mr. Well’s guilty pleas are in the 70%.

  Statistic 6: 70% of Mr. Well’s clients are Black and Latino

  I thought that was odd. 50% of his Black and Latino clients plead guilty. Do you want to know why? Because Mr. Wells does not care. He is not the only one, I am sure of it. However, he just happened to cross my path and I did not feel comfortable leaving my student in his incapable hands.

  The story Mr. Wells did not want to hear was that my 14-year-old student’s mom overdosed on heroine, but he didn’t know she was dead. He thought she was just passed out, so he went to the store, stole some bread and milk because he heard from a friend that would wake her up. He also used the food to feed his four-year-old sister. The store owner called the cops, identified where the boy lived and they knocked on his door. They arrested him in front of his sister, put the sister in a foster home and flippantly told the boy his mother was dead. He was arrested for $5.89.

  I am not mad at the store owner, he was losing money - I get it. I am not mad at the cops, they were doing their jobs, and I get that. I am angry at the person who is supposed to be the voice that intercedes for my student. The one that does not want to hear what he has to say, why he did what he did, just whether he did or not. That person or people like that are why I am mad.

  The District Attorney’s office needs to really evaluate who they hire, why they hire them and what can they actually contribute to this sort of dilemma. I am not asking for handouts, I am not saying the law was not broken, but what I am saying is when you have a broken system. Well, multiple broken systems, what the hell should one expect. Then to go and treat them harshly because “they” which I interpreted to mean people not like him, demonstrates to me that the individual is either jaded, racist or prejudice and in the wrong field. A lawyer should represent, not cast judgment.

  Real Talk with Lisa

  Rich put the paper down as his father stood up and walked towards the door. He turned his head sideways, not even looking at him and said, “You better fix this shit or I will fix you.”

  He sunk into his chair as his hands ran through his hair. How the fuck did this happen? Everything was coming down in a crash. He heard his phone ring, and he knew by the ringtone that it was Grace, his girlfriend. He picked it up and said nothing.

  “Did you see the paper?” she sounded angry.

  “Yes, I just saw it?” he muttered.

  “Who the fuck is that bitch?” she seethed.

  “Some teacher who came to the court yesterday with her student. We butted heads and things were said.”

  “Well, how the fuck are you going to fix it?”

  “I don’t know, I just read it.”

  “Well, I know. You need to make a public appearance, doing good for the community. Give some money to her little foundation and have some sort of meeting of the minds with her to show that you are trying to make amends. I’ll set that up. You will be announcing your intention to run in less than a year. This is the sort of shit that cannot happen. She is probably in the pocket of one of the other opponents. That bitch looks like an opportunist. Putting your name in that dreadful article like that. It’s so uncivilized. Just like her kind.” She kept talking.

  He was shaking his head. This woman was like a damn snake or better yet a vulture. He guessed that was why he remained her ally.

  “Are you listening to me, Richard?” She annunciated each word.

  He hated when she called him Richard and she knew it but insisted on doing it when she was upset. She did this to goad him, but today was not the day. He hung up on her and checked his email. His boss wanted to meet with him ASAP.

  Great fucking start of the day and it was only 9:30 AM.

  Rich’s boss said what everyone else said. In essence, he needed to fix this shit. His boss would handle Ricardo’s case himself. As a publicity booster, of course since he was sure that a token Black or Hispanic attorney would be brought in to stand by him and vouch for his race loving sensibilities. Rich’s boss was whiter than he was so he would need to have someone affirm his ‘I love all people’ agenda. He was up for re-election next year, so he might as well get a head start.

  His co-workers looked at him wearily, not sure what to think. Some secretly patted him on the back while others kept their distance. Rich was fine with all of this because he did not plan on being at this place long anyway. As Lisa said, this was a step for him, and in one year he would be out. However, Lisa’s stunt did threaten his success. He did need to fix it, so he looked up her information and called the paper. They said she was a freelance writer and did not have a phone there, but gave him her email address. He didn’t want to email, so he tried to figure out what school she worked at so he could contact her there. Once he identified the school’s number, they said she was teaching and he could leave a message on her voicemail. He did not want to do that either.

  Rich did one better, he’d wait after school for her.

  LISA:

  Teachers were coming up to Lisa congratulating her for telling the truth about the situation and told her they had her back. They were also scared that her article could get her in trouble with the administration of the school. She did not see how because she did not mention where she worked nor did she say anything about her school. That was a United States statistic, she thought as she read her email that said the principal wanted to meet with her ASAP.

  Her principal, Mr. Dixon, sat at his desk with his college degrees arched around his head on the wall. His glasses were perched on his face and his fingers were interlocked in front of him. He was in his early 40’s, but looked much younger, had dark brown wavy hair and a light mocha complexion.

  “Ms. Johnson,” he drawled like he was from the south. “I am so glad you are so moved by your beliefs, however when you publish an article about the school system being flawed, it makes us all look bad.”

  She decided it was best not to say anything because if he were going where she thought he was going, there could be a problem. She kept her face blank.

  “I agree with you and I know you were not targeting the school, but some lawyer.” He laughed, “Boy did you give him hell. That is what I like about you. You don’t back down.”

  He sobered.

  “However, we need to ask you to refrain from bashing the school or the school system,” he finished.

  “I’m afraid that I cannot do that, Mr. Dixon.”

  He looked surprised. “What do you mean, you cannot do it?”

  “I mean, you should know better than I do that the educational system is flawed. Severely. What, you have been in this field for over 15 years?” He nodded. “So you know, Mr. Dixon. I love my job, I love my students, but there is such a thing as standing up for what you believe in. I love my writing and I have received over 100 emails today alone about other educators and people that are in agreement with me and want to do something about this epidemic.”

  He looked shocked.

  “Ms. Johnson, I hear you and agree. However, the battle you are choosing to fight is one that can be fought another day. For the sake of your job, for the sake of your students, don’t fight this.”

  “Mr. Dixon, I will assume I am on some sort of probation if I don’t stop. I’m telling you now I won’t because this is for the sake of my students. Someone has to stand up for them. This cannot be fought another day.”

  He shook his head. “Alright, consider this your warning. If the articles continue, then your probation will kick in and I am certain the union will step in for a hearing.”

  He took his glasses off and said, “For what it’s worth, you are a damn good teacher and I’d hate to lose you. I’ve often thought you’d make a great principal someday.”

  She smiled at him and said, “That means a lot coming from you, Mr. Dixon.”

  Gathering h
er things, she went outside to the parking lot with the hopes of heading home to get ready to go out with the girls. She needed to unwind after today. Lisa counted over 200 emails now that the day was over and not even sure how many phone calls or messages. Her phone stayed off during the school day, so she could focus on the students and her work.

  As she approached her car, she saw someone leaning against it. At first she thought it was Danny here to surprise her. But the closer she got the more she saw it was a man, but it was not her man.

  It was that man.

  “To what do I owe this intrusion, Mr. Wells?”

  “I come in peace,” he said and raised his hands in surrender.

  He was in another expensive suit, with his sandy hair and a tanned complexion. This was an Italian trait, but she was not sure if he had simply been in the hot sun for a while or he was just a darker shade. He was taller than her by a few inches and his physique was that of an athlete. The man definitely worked out because that suit outlined his broad, expansive chest in the best way possible. In the courtroom, she was too angry to recognize any of his features, except his devil horns. Lisa did not know if it was the sunlight or that suit, but he looked good.

  “I’m sure you do. What? You’ve come to rub it in?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

  “What are you talking about, I came to speak to you.”

  “I’m not in the talking mood,” she said as she rounded to the driver’s side of the car.

  He followed her and she quickly turned around to face him, not trusting him to be behind her.

  “Listen – “

  She interrupted him and said, “If you are going to call me a bitch at,” she looked at her watch, “5:40 in the evening. At least buy me a drink first.”

  He looked shocked and said, “Funny you say that because I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner sometime.”

  She busted out laughing to the point where tears were rolling down her face. He did not seem to find anything funny but looked at her with wonderment.

  Once she settled, she said, “That’s just an expression. I wouldn’t trust a drink from you if my life depended on it.”

  He was shocked at her words but said, “You hate me that much? You think I’d do harm to you?”

  She chuckled, “No, Wells, you hate me and people like me that much, that you do harm in other ways. You don’t have the balls to stab us directly, so you use the law and your position to do the killing. It’s a damn massacre.”

  He looked confused and then anger slid across his face. “You are going to stand on your high horse and try to blame me for all the wrongs that have happened in the judicial system. I handle all of them,” he raised his hands, “oh no, 70% of them at least. Right? This is all my fault.”

  “Of course not, it’s a systematic problem, which you contribute to every day.” She looked at him square in the eye and continued, “But at least have the decency to admit you don’t like people, not like you. I already see you for who you are, you don’t have to lie to me, Wells. I won’t write about you again. I’m not bitter, but I am angry.”

  He looked at her intently and said, “It’s not that I don’t like people, not like me. I don’t like freeloaders, people who con the system every day, get away with murder on technicalities, people who are weak, stuck in the same rut, never getting out. It boggles my mind. You are not like them, but you are a sympathizer, which makes you weak as well. Because you’ll die a lonely angry woman, with nothing to show for the energy you put into people who don’t even give a shit about themselves. They’d rather be on welfare and drive fancy cars than get a damn job and help the rest of society. It’s like a fucking cancer that nobody can solve or find the cure for. I don’t hate them, I despise them. It’s not a black/white thing, it’s more of a strong/weak thing.” He said and took a step closer to her.

  “Ah, I see.” She was looking up at him.

  “I wonder how you feel about women.”

  “Lisa, I’m not a sexist or a racist,” he said thoughtfully.

  “So you think,” she added.

  “How am I a racist?” he looked at her lips, “Tell me, what makes me a racist?”

  He was within an arm’s length of her, which was a little close for Lisa. She looked into his eyes and started to see him as a man and not the monster she was making him out to be. She was 5’9, so he had to be about 6’3 because he was almost a half a foot taller than her, she noted as he was looking down. He had short cropped blond hair that had a slight mohawk formed with some sort of hair product. The cut was expensive but showed off his assets and edginess. He had sharp features, with deep gray eyes, pointed nose, pink lips and a chiseled face. His nose was a little crooked like it had been broken before. Even that defect did not stop the man from being handsome. His eyes were low as they were still fixated on her lips. Lisa thought something was happening here, but she could not easily identify what that was.

  “The definition of a racist, when used as an adjective, means ‘having or showing the belief that a person’s race is s-superior than another.’” Her voice cracked as he invaded her space.

  “I’ve demonstrated that?” his voice was much deeper now.

  “Y-yes.” She said with her back flat against the driver’s side of the car. “Can you move back? You are in my personal space.”

  He stopped advancing on her and said, “How have I demonstrated that?”

  “You send 70% of our Black and Latino brothers and sisters to jail and have them plead guilty to save you time, I’m sure. Also, because you don’t care. Therefore, you are contributing to the cause, which as you lawyers put it, makes you an accessory to the crime.” She started to gather her strength again. “As a matter of fact, why are you at the state’s attorney’s office? Why aren’t you at a private law firm working for people in your class bracket since you’re not a racist, just prejudice? I bet even your own people outside of your class don’t like your kind, but you don’t surely don’t like their kind, huh?”

  He tore his gaze from her mouth to her eyes and she saw deep-seated anger in there. She must have hit a nerve. She took a side step away from him and he followed her with his eyes.

  “You really are scared of me?” he asked sincerely.

  “Not really, but if you decided to swing, I’d rather not break my window when you fell into it,” she said calmly.

  “You are a piece of work.” He smiled.

  Damn, he looked even better.

  “Whatever, Mr. Wells, your job is done. I’ll likely be fired before the month is out, thanks to you and your class of folks who want to shut me up. However, don’t underestimate me. I may not have a class to teach in, but there is a corner on every block, Mr. Wells, and I will make that my classroom.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked as he walked towards her again.

  “I’m talking about you putting pressure on someone to fire me,” she replied. “I’m sure I’ll have the official documentation later tonight.

  “I did no such thing.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Look, all right, I fucked up. Jaded, sure, racist, no, prejudice, eh. Getting you fired, absolutely not.” He seemed sincere, “No matter what you think about me, I haven’t seen most parents do what you did for Ricardo. Even calling me out on my shit.”

  She cocked her head to the side to look at him with curiosity etched on her face. She did not know whether to believe him or not. It really didn’t matter.

  “Look, let’s do dinner, you, me, and whoever.” He smirked with one side of his mouth turned up.

  “Why?” She was confused by the turn of events.

  “Because I want to mend fences.”

  “Riiightt,” she drawled out.

  “I do.” He seemed genuine.

  “Fine, my boyfriend and I will have dinner with you on one condition.” She thought he bristled after she said, boyfriend. “You admit your practices were wrong, come to speak to the NSPPF board’s annual meeting abou
t what you intend to do to fix this. Then work with the local law enforcement and schools to ensure this happens.”

  “That seems rehearsed,” he replied.

  “Well, who knows, my next job could be as a lobbyist. You’re a lawyer, so don’t shit me like you didn’t have something like that planned already,” she smirked.

  He ignored the last part of her statement and said, “Okay, deal. I’ll contact you for the details for Friday.”

  “Fine,” she said glad to get that over with.

  He took another step towards her and he whispered, “Nice doing business with you.”

  Chapter 3: The Dinner

  RICH:

  Rich didn’t know why that woman got under his skin so bad. He could not put his finger on it for the life of him, but he needed to find out quickly. He just might kiss her. That was the most absurd thing he’d ever fathomed. He was not a racist, but he also was not attracted to people outside his race either, nor did he think people should date outside their race. His father called their kids ‘mutts’ and called anyone in a relationship like that a ‘sympathizer,’ which made them equally weak.

  At that moment, Rich realized that he just gave a similar speech to Lisa. The same spiel that his father used to rant about race issues. There were things to admire and emulate about his father, but Rich did not feel this was one of them. He really did not have enough experience to have an informed opinion, just what he was taught. Lisa seemed so convicted and that was what made her attractive, Rich guessed. He did not have that passion about anything. He was on a plan and all the people strategically placed in his life were there to help him achieve that plan. Even Grace.