Tell the Truth & Shame the Devil

by Lezley McSpadden

  I was concentrating so hard my head ached. I took another deep breath. “I can get through this,” I told myself. I lifted one of the sweaters up in the air, as if I was showing it to Mike Mike. “Yeah, this is it! I wanna dress you like you’d dress yourself, baby. You know, something that you’d pick out.”

  The sweater was the perfect blue. I laid it out next to a crisp pair of blue jeans, a button-down, and a bow tie. Louis gave a nod of approval. I gave a half smile. “Yeah, Mike Mike gonna be looking real nice.”

  August 24, 2014

  When they took him away from Canfield Drive, all the cops told me was that he was going to a place called Berkeley. I guess they meant the city of Berkeley, another municipality like Ferguson. The funeral director, Austin Lane, was the only person communicating any real information to me. He told me that the body was at the St. Louis County Medical Examiner’s Office.

  The funeral home people always tell you that the body is OK, and I don’t know why they tell you that, because the body isn’t OK. It is as far from OK as it can be. It doesn’t have life in it anymore.

  It was the night before the funeral, and it was going to be my first time seeing Mike Mike’s body since the day he was killed. It had been two weeks. I’d never been away from him for so long.

  When we got to the funeral home, I turned to Louis and said, “I need to see Mike Mike for a minute by myself.”

  Then I kissed each one of my kids, shut the door behind me, and started walking down the chapel aisle. I felt like I was wading through cement as I approached his casket.

  I stood beside Mike Mike, legs feeling like Jell-O. My baby boy looked good. He looked clean and sharp like he always did. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to hear him say, “Mama, you did ya thang pickin’ these clothes. I look good, right?”

  I imagined me telling him, “Mike, Mike, you look real handsome. I love you so much.” But I stopped myself from imagining too much, because the reality was that my son was lying there in a casket, and after the next day, I’d never see him again.

  My eyes filled with tears. It was just me and Mike Mike in the room together, and seeing him laying there so still, it all settled in and I knew he was never coming back and that my life would never be the same.

  I took a deep breath. I just wanted to keep my composure for my other kids.

  Big Mike came into the chapel next. He had arrived wearing a button-down shirt, but then he walked out and came back in, and he was wearing a muscle shirt so he could show everybody that he had gotten a tattoo of Mike Mike’s face on his back.

  As we settled into the pews, Déja wanted to have her own time with Mike Mike. She walked up to the casket and just sort of stood there for several minutes, quiet. Big Mike walked up to Déja and leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Déja said something back to him. Me and Brittanie couldn’t hear what they were saying, but all of a sudden, Mike squared off with Déja.

  “You need to go sit down and not stand up at the casket like that. You gonna be sick.”

  “Naw, Daddy, I’mma be fine. I just want to look at him a li’l longer.”

  “You need to go sit down,” he raised his voice.

  Then he was shouting, “Do you know how the fuck I feel? Do you? Do you know how the fuck I feel? Do you?”

  Stunned, Déja turned around and announced to the room, “Somebody come and get him.”

  Everyone was standing up, and there was lot of chatter coming from both sides. I rushed up and put my arms around her.

  Brittanie put her arms around me and Déja, but Déja pushed us away. She walked back up to the casket and stood looking at her brother. Brittanie walked to her side.

  I was in another world, and all I could see was Mike Mike in that casket, Déja, Moo Moo, Jazzy, and my mama. Everything went fuzzy after that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE LONGEST DAY

  August 25, 2014

  I woke up about 4:00 a.m. Don’t even know if I slept at all. By 6:00 a.m. I had already smoked three cigarettes and I was worn out, like the blood was creeping through my veins. I didn’t know how I was going to get through this whole day. I peeked out my bedroom door. The sun was coming through the clouds.

  I wrapped my hair up tight and put a shower cap on. I needed to make sure I didn’t mess it up. In the shower the hot steam filled my nostrils, and I could feel my head opening up. The water poured over each curve and muscle of my body, and for just a moment everything bad disappeared. The bottle of body wash slipped from my hand and crashed into the tub. In my head I heard the sound of a gunshot. I jumped, and my heart sped up. I looked down at my right hand and traced the same places where Mike Mike had been shot with my left hand. I ran my fingers over my thumb, up my forearm, past my elbow, then gripped my shoulder.

  The tears suddenly sprang from my eyes. I tried to wipe them, but now I didn’t know the difference between the water and my tears.

  I balled up my washcloth and began washing my skin. I thought about all the protesters, news reports, and comments on social media. “They don’t know me. They don’t know my son.” I scrubbed harder. I saw flashes of that killer cop’s face, Police Chief Jackson, Governor Nixon, James Knowles, the mayor of Ferguson. White men who didn’t see my baby for nothing but a black boy in the hood. What the fuck was he doing today? It felt like the water was pouring with even more force over my body. I wanted it to just wash me right down the drain.

  “Oh, God!” I opened my mouth and screamed as loud as I could, dropping the rag.

  “Lezley, you OK?” Louis asked, banging on the bathroom door.

  “I’m OK,” I said, shaking all over. I covered my mouth with my hands.

  “Come on,” he said, opening the door, handing me a towel. “People gonna be coming soon,” he said, turning off the water and wrapping the towel around me.

  It took me three tries just to get one leg in my underwear. I slid my dress on, then smoothed it down. I felt a sharp pain in my gut and dry heaved. I leaned up against the wall in the pet room. Even my parakeets weren’t chirping this morning.

  People just started showing up at my house. All the commotion was too much. It was overwhelming. Why didn’t these people just come to the church? Why did they come to my house? I just wanted to have this moment to myself. I wanted to just crawl back into bed. I wanted to say fuck it. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to believe Mike Mike was gone.

  There was the loud rumbling of motorcycles outside. Their engines made the house vibrate. The riders who were going to lead the motorcade were zooming up and gathering in the street out front, talking and standing around. Other family members had pulled up and were just parked outside.

  I was trying to double-check my makeup and see if the kids were dressed, with their hair combed. The noise from outside was deafening. There was a series of knocks at the front door.

  “I heard them! I heard them!” I shouted, my hand trembling again. I was on edge. I looked around the room at Jazzy and Moo Moo’s stunned faces. “I’m sorry, y’all. Mama just tryin’ to keep it all together.”

  Jazzy and Moo Moo put their arms around me.

  “C’mon now, we gotta go soon,” I said, patting each of them on their backs.

  “Mama, I look OK?” Déja asked, stepping into the room. She looked prettier than ever this morning.

  “You look real nice, Déja,” I said, mustering up a smile and hugging her as tight as I could. “We gon’ get through this, I promise.”

  “The limos are here,” Brittanie announced.

  I was frantically looking for my purse. “How they expect somebody to get ready with all that going on? I need my purse.”

  “Nette Pooh, I got you,” Brittanie said, handing me my purse. We both let out a sigh, and she stepped in and held me close.

  Everyone else was out the house and loaded in the limos. I stood at the front door and looked around the room at the shrine that I had created without even realizing it. I had placed each special trinket or cand
le someone had made with Mike Mike’s picture or name on the end tables on each side of the living room couch, which had a large throw with his face printed on it draped over the back. T-shirts with his name and face looking out at me hung over the love seat. The room was bursting with him today.

  There were cars and motorcycles everywhere. I just kept my head down and concentrated on getting in the limo. It felt like I didn’t take a breath until we pulled away from my little house. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to hold it all in. The limos zoomed down West Florrisant. The sun was shining bright, but when I saw the spray-painted, boarded-up, burned-out buildings and stores left in the aftermath of the looting, I was astounded. It looked like something out of the Middle East on the news, where bombs had gone off. I never thought I’d see anything like this in my life. I closed my eyes again. I just wanted this all to go away.

  It was a long drive to Friendly Temple Missionary Baptist Church down in the city of North St. Louis. I looked over at Mama; she was distant, staring out into nowhere. Her sunglasses couldn’t hide the tears that rolled down her face. She was hurting. I slid over and grabbed her hand. She looked a little surprised, then cracked a half smile. I just held on to her hand for the rest of the drive.

  When we pulled on to the church’s street, my body stiffened. I wanted to jump out and run away. My leg began to shake. Louis put his hand on it. News trucks filled the sidewalks. There were cars everywhere, and what seemed like thousands of people, as far as my eyes could see. There were people standing outside on both sides of the street with their hands up. I had never seen anything like it.

  A group of kids were holding signs that said: HANDS UP DON’T SHOOTand JUSTICE FOR MIKE BROWN.

  I looked back out the window, and it was chaotic. When the driver opened the door, the voices of people chanting for peace, sirens down the block, and news reporters calling my name all stung my ears. I needed my sunglasses to shield my eyes from what seemed like hundreds of cameras and hands reaching out to me. Chevelle swooped in and grabbed me by one hand, and Louis held the other. We all were linked hand in hand, arm in arm, and it felt like a big gush of wind was pushing us all inside.

  I was frantically looking around for Brittanie and her family. Where was Bernard? My mouth was moving, but I didn’t know what I was saying.

  “They OK. Everybody’s OK,” Louis assured me.

  Chevelle and Louis were keeping us all together. We were walking fast, but suddenly it all came to a stop.

  I just wanted to get inside, away from all this madness, but we were stuck in a line at the entrance of the church. I heard Chevelle shouting, “This is his mother!”

  Then just as quick as we came to a screeching halt, I was whisked inside to join the rest of my family. I saw Auntie Bobbie, Uncle Charles, Key Key, and then all the faces started to blur together.

  As we lined up for the processional, everything felt divided. I wanted everyone to wear red, because it was Mike Mike’s favorite color. Mike wanted blue. But I couldn’t fight at a time like this. We had at least come together and were standing side by side to walk our baby in. His last walk. The last mile. Then he’d be gone.

  I stood at the entrance of the sanctuary. The choir’s song began to swell.

  I shall wear a crown

  I shall wear a crown when it’s all over

  I shall see his face

  I shall see his face when it’s all over

  I’m gonna put on my robe

  Tell the story

  How I made it over

  Louis gripped my hand tight. The church nurses were all dressed in crisp white uniforms and hats, and black men in white tuxedos lined the aisles. Mike Mike’s casket was gleaming up ahead. The pews overflowed as folks shouted “Amens” and “Glory, glories.” Giant posters of Mike Mike seemed to come at me. It was like I was being swallowed up.

  As I sat there rocking back and forth, I was stiffening up again. It was too much, looking at all the people, most who didn’t know anything about Mike Mike.

  I looked over at Big Mike. His wife, Calvina, and Louis were between us, but I could see him tending to his baby girl.

  My chest tightened. I chewed my gum faster and faster, then turned away. Suddenly, the choir hit a soaring note that surged through my body like electricity. I stood up and walked to Mike Mike’s casket and stared at the giant poster that showed him from a baby to a toddler to a young man.

  I gave in to my tears. Everything around me began to fade into silence—the choir, the pastor speaking into the microphone, preparing everyone for the service, the chatter that rambled underneath it all. Everyone started to disappear, and then it was just me and Mike Mike’s casket in that church. I touched it, rubbing the shiny mahogany wood as if it were his hand. I closed my eyes and began to speak to him.

  “I never want this to go unsaid, Mike Mike. There are no words to express how much you mean to me. A son like you I thought could never be. Because the day you were born, I just know God sent me a blessing, and that was you. For this, I thank him every day. You are the true definition of a son in every way. Becoming a mom has shown me a new sense of being. I want you to know that you were the purpose in my life. Out of everything I did, it was you that I did right.”

  Louis’s arm around my waist brought me back to reality. I bent over, kissed Mike Mike’s casket, and sat down. I just focused on his picture, his eyes looking directly at me. We were fixed on each other. I could do this. He would be my strength to sit though the tributes, the songs, the speeches, the people, all of it. I wasn’t going to take my eyes off him.

  When the trail of limos pulled into the cemetery, the funeral directors moved Mike Mike’s casket from the hearse to a white horse and carriage.

  I couldn’t get out of the limo right away, and by the time I collected myself and walked to the grave site, Big Mike released the white doves we had agreed to do together.

  I was devastated. I got right back in the limo. For several minutes I couldn’t even speak. I waited until everyone had left the grave site, and then I got out of the limo and slowly made my way to the open hole in the ground where his casket sat. I stared at the casket for a long time and then I bent over and started kissing it.

  Brittanie got out her limo and rushed to me. I just kept kissing it over and over. “Nette Pooh, c’mon.”

  “I just cain’t, I cain’t leave my son here.” I lay on his casket and cried a hard cry. Brittanie wrapped her arms around me, peeling me away from the casket and then walked me back to the limo.

  I guess it was so hard to let go because I never had gotten my proper time with him. I had to share him even to the end. So this was it. I didn’t want to let go, but I knew it was time. This was final. All that was left was to fight. Not like back in high school, not like over on Emma. I could hold my own in the streets, but this was different, bigger, and more powerful than anything I had ever experienced in the hood. I had to fight a system.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  MAMA GOT FOUR

  September 1, 2014

  It was September 1st and I was finally sending the kids back to school.

  I shot up, sat up on the edge of the bed, and wiped the sleep from my eyes. Today I didn’t need my alarm. Louis was still asleep, with his back to me. It was barely light outside. I dragged myself out of the bed. My parakeets were still asleep. The light from the fish tank stung my eyes. I sprinkled some food in the tank, fired up a cigarette, and peeped out the kitchen blinds. The street was empty.

  The funeral was over, lawyers were calling, and I was going to let my kids go back at school. Life had restarted, but I was still trying to figure it out. I had made up my mind that I would try to make things as normal as possible around here, even if I was cracking up on the inside.

  A few days before, I had sat the kids down at the kitchen table and told them, “Listen, y’all gotta go back to school now. I’m takin’ a break from work for a li’l while ’cause I gotta fight for Mike Mike.”

  Each one of t
hem nodded.

  So today I was going to finally send them out into the world. I was terrified that they’d be asked a bunch of questions or harassed. But the school district assured me that they would be taken care of and not interrogated about everything that was going on. I knew I couldn’t have them in a bubble, but I had a fierce urge to protect them.

  I woke the kids up, put breakfast on the table, and got everybody dressed and into the car. First thing Déja did was turn on the radio. We started bopping our heads as if it were any other morning. Moo Moo and Jazzy were teasing each other in the backseat.

  “Y’all got your homework?” I asked.

  “Yes, Mama,” they all said in unison. Déja kind of smacked her lips.

  “Whassup, Déja?”

  “I just be gettin’ tired of school,” she said, picking at her nail.

  “Well, it just started, so you cain’t be gettin’ tired,” I said, looking at her again.

  I stopped in front of Moo Moo and Jazzy’s school, kissed them over the seat, and they hopped out.

  At Déja ’s school I parked and turned to her, “Déja, we got a long way to go, I know, but we can do this together.”

  “Mama, it’s just so hard with Mike Mike not bein’ here. People got so many questions.” She opened the door and grabbed her books.

  “Look, we just gotta tune everybody else out. And if you need help with your work, we’ll get the help. Plus, you a sophomore now! Hey, girl!” I teased.

  “Bye, Mama!” She smiled. One of her friends called her name and she waved, running to catch up. Déja disappeared into the school, and I drove off and turned up the music.

  Something hit me the moment I walked in our front door and saw Mike Mike’s face on the blanket. I marched into the bedroom and found the large shopping bag filled with mail. I took a big swallow, sat down on the floor, and started going through each piece. The first envelope was from Florida. I opened it slowly and pulled out a small notecard.