Mama's Boy

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  It hurt Gloria’s heart to think of her son out on his own, in fear for his life, dodging the authorities. Where would he go? What would he do? Gloria had gone to a pay phone near the beauty salon this morning and called her cousin in Florida. Of course her cousin didn’t want to get involved, but she had a friend who would be willing to put Jamal up until they worked all of this out, got an attorney, and found some way to keep him safe.

  “Jamal, it’s Mom,” Gloria called out once she made her way to the back of Naomi’s house. She prayed that he hadn’t decided to go ahead and bolt already.

  Naomi had been staying with a friend because she said she didn’t want to risk being in the house if Jamal was found. She’d given them until today to get Jamal out. Everybody was in fear.

  There was some rattling in the closet, then Gloria said, “I’m by myself.” She pulled the door opened and saw Jamal still cowering in the corner.

  “Have you been like that the whole time?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Have you eaten?”

  He nodded again. “I had some crackers.”

  “Well, I brought you a plate,” she said, pulling out chicken and dumplings, his favorite. He grabbed the plate and devoured the food. He ignored the plastic fork and picked up dumplings with his hand, stuffing six in his mouth at a time. Before he even finished chewing those, he gnawed off a big piece of the chicken leg. The sight of him eating like a caveman broke her heart.

  “Okay, you know we have to leave today. Naomi is terrified. We can’t put her at risk any longer,” she said after a few minutes of watching him eat.

  Jamal took a moment, chewed, and swallowed before speaking. Even at his lowest point, he still had his manners.

  “I know. I don’t want to get Ms. Naomi in trouble anyway.”

  “Oh, honey.” She handed him the duffle bag as she fought back tears. She had never felt a pain like this. It felt like a hole was growing deep in her soul. “There are some clothes in there for you and some money. I also bought you a bus ticket to Florida. My cousin has a friend you can stay with for a while until this all dies down. But let me at least take you to the bus station.”

  “No, Mama. I don’t want you to do any more than you have already done.” He sucked the last of the meat off the chicken leg.

  She let out a heavy sigh. She’d promised herself that she’d stay strong for her son, but it wasn’t working. “Jamal, I don’t feel right about this.”

  “Would you feel right if they killed me instead?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  How was she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to “do the right thing” if it meant her son would be harmed?

  “Well, I gave you everything I could. There’s enough money in that bag to get you through for several weeks.” Her voice quivered. “When you get to Florida, my cousin’s friend will put you up for a while. But this is only temporary. We’re going straight to work to try and get you an attorney.”

  “Okay, Mom,” he said. He set the now-empty plate down and threw his arms around her neck. “I love you, Mama. I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

  She pulled back and wiped the tears that were trickling down his face. “Baby, I know it was an accident. A horrible tragic accident.”

  “I feel so bad about that police officer. I never meant to hurt him. I just thought he was going to kill me and I grabbed his gun . . . ”

  “I know.” She picked up his bag. He didn’t have to tell her all the details. She knew her son. He wasn’t a killer. “Come on, go change. The bus leaves in forty-five minutes.”

  She waited while he went to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and changed. Ten minutes later, he was back in front of her, looking more like the old Jamal, except for the puffiness around his eyes. Gloria knew she would never have the old Jamal again.

  “Well, come on, baby, let’s go.”

  Jamal grabbed the duffle bag and they made their way out through the side door and back out into the alley.

  “You’re sure you’re not going to let me give you a ride?” she asked.

  “No, Mama,” he said. “I’m just going to cut through the woods to get to the station. I’ll lay low till the bus comes.” He was trembling, like the first day he rode the school bus and didn’t know what lay ahead. “I’ll be okay. I love you so much.” He hugged her tightly one last time. And just when he turned to walk away, they heard, “Police! Freeze!”

  Gloria gasped as she threw her arms in the air like she was on a TV show. Jamal slowly put his arms up as well. He looked back at her and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he was about to run. “Don’t, Jamal!” she cried. There was no doubt that if he took off, they would shoot her son in the back.

  “Jamal Jones! Do not move!”

  Gloria’s eyes moved in the direction of that voice, the voice that had haunted her for the past week. Then she saw the eyes of Detective Martin. His gun was aimed directly at Jamal’s head. His finger poised on the trigger as if it was itching to move. Before she knew what was happening, Gloria jumped in front of her son. “Noooo!” she screamed, holding up her hands to shield her son.

  “Gloria!”

  Gloria’s mouth dropped in horror as her husband appeared on the side of Detective Martin. “Honey, don’t!”

  She had so many things to say to her husband, but right now, she could only focus on her son.

  “Mrs. Jones, you’d better move,” Detective Martin hissed.

  “No!” Gloria cried. “So you can kill him? No! You’ll have to kill me, too.”

  It was then that Elton stepped directly in front of Detective Martin, his back to the gun, his attention focused on Gloria. “Sweetheart, it’s over.” He looked at Jamal, who was trembling behind his mother. “Son, do you want them to shoot your mother?” He motioned to what now looked like every police officer in Jasper. Each of them had a gun pointed in their direction. “They will gun us all down right here.”

  Gloria could barely speak, but she managed to say, “Did you bring the police?”

  Before Elton could answer, an officer came from the side and tackled Jamal to the ground.

  “Jamal Jones, you’re under arrest,” the cop said as he wrestled Jamal down, turned him over, grabbed his hands, and put them behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” He read Jamal his Miranda rights as he slapped on the handcuffs, then jerked him up from the ground.

  “Stop it! Don’t hurt him!” Gloria screamed as Elton tried to hold her.

  “Ma’am, we got this.” It was the black officer, Detective King, who was in their house that first day. “Let us do our job.”

  Gloria ignored him and spun to face her husband. “I can’t believe you,” she said, her voice trembling as she broke free. “You called the police? On your own flesh and blood?”

  “I did what I thought was right.” Elton’s eyes were watering, but she didn’t care. “We’re not going to let our son run. We’re not going to ruin his life or ours,” he said, his voice hoarse. “They agreed not to press charges against you if I led them here,” he added.

  Gloria heaved, trying to catch her breath, as tears ran down her face.

  “Mama!” Jamal called out as they tossed him in the back of a patrol car and slammed the door.

  “I’m coming, baby!” she cried as an officer and Elton held her back. “You’d better not hurt him!” she screamed at the officers.

  They ignored her as they got in the front seat and sped off.

  Gloria sobbed as she turned to her husband. Her whole body was shaking. “I will never forgive you for this. Never,” she said before racing off to her car to follow her son to the police station.

  15

  * * *

  * * *

  All her life she had been taught not to hate. But right ab
out now, there was no better verb to describe her feelings. Gloria didn’t know how she’d ever be able to get over the contempt she had for her husband at this very moment.

  “Honey, please understand,” Elton said, trying to approach her.

  Gloria was shivering with anger. “I’m not going to tell you again. Get away from me,” she said through gritted teeth. She stepped out of his reach. She didn’t want his touch. She didn’t want him sharing the same air as her.

  “I just want to see my son,” she said, her voice cracking. They’d been in the Jasper police station for an hour now and no one had told them anything. Elton had gone to try to get answers. “Why won’t they tell you how he is?” Gloria snapped. “How he’s doing? Since you’re in cahoots with them now, you should be able to find out what’s going on.”

  Elton ignored her dig and kept his voice calm. “Detective King said it’s going to take a while for them to process him in. We’re not going to be able to see him. Let’s just go home and talk about it.”

  “Elton Jones. I’m going to tell you again. Leave me alone,” Gloria said. Her words were dripping with venom.

  “Look, I know you don’t understand why I did what I did—”

  “You’re right,” she said, cutting him off. “I don’t understand and if something happens to my son behind those jailhouse doors, I will never, ever forgive you.”

  “Gloria, it’s in God’s hands now.”

  She jabbed her finger in his face. “Don’t give me that crap about God. I know my God. This ain’t about Him. This is about you. You don’t want to be shamed. You don’t want to be bothered with cops and reporters. Your selfishness led you to turn our only son in. Our only child,” she cried.

  Elton’s lips pressed together. His chest rose, then fell. He exhaled, then simply said, “He was wrong. Our only child committed a crime and was wrong.”

  “And we could’ve figured out how to make it right. But instead, you just turned him over to these racist cops. Knowing they got a death warrant out for him.” The thought of what those cops were doing to Jamal behind those doors was tearing apart Gloria’s stomach.

  “I did what I had to do,” Elton repeated.

  “No, you did what you wanted to do. You did what was best for Elton because that’s all that ever matters. Jamal was right. You never wanted him. He brought shame to you since the day he was born.”

  “Don’t go there,” he said.

  “Don’t do what? Tell the truth? Our son has fought all his life for your love. And you’re the one that’s wrong.” She stopped before she said some things she would regret. Right now she had no words for him. There was nothing more that she wanted to say to him. Gloria marched back up to the front desk. “Has your supervisor come in yet?”

  “Ma’am,” the bleached-blond desk clerk said as she chomped on a piece of gum like a cow chewing on hay, “I told you my supervisor is having dinner with his family. He don’t like to be disturbed during dinner.”

  “Well, did you tell him it’s an emergency?” Gloria said.

  “Well, what constitutes an emergency to you,” she said, not bothering to hide her attitude, “don’t necessarily constitute an emergency for everyone.” She leaned back, the buttons on her uniform looking like they were holding on for dear life.

  “Look, lady—” Gloria said, banging the counter.

  “No, you look.” The woman leaned forward and pointed her pencil in Gloria’s face. “Unless you want to join your son in jail, I suggest you back up away from my desk.”

  “Gloria.” Elton eased up behind her and took her by the elbow. “Come on.”

  She snatched her arm away and tried to calm down as she talked to the woman again. “Look, all I need to know is has my son been checked in? I need to make sure he’s all right.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” the woman said. “He ain’t been processed in the system and until he’s in the system, he ain’t here!”

  “It’s not like Jasper has some big high-tech system. Go ask somebody. Hell, go look! See if he’s back there!” Gloria was yelling now. Yelling and crying.

  The woman folded her arms and glared. “’Cause that’s the way you get stuff done, by acting a fool with folks, right?”

  “Gloria . . .”

  Gloria ignored her husband. She shook her hands to calm herself. “Okay, I’m sorry,” she said to the woman. “If you have children—”

  “I got six of them,” the woman said, cutting her off. “Which is the only reason I’m sittin’ here letting you talk to me crazy. Cuz I can’t afford to cuss you out and get fired.”

  “So then you can understand my frustration,” Gloria said, pleading. “If one of your sons . . .”

  “My son wouldn’t shoot a cop.” The woman turned her lips up.

  “Gloria,” Elton said, “I told you this isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

  “I need to know if he’s okay.”

  At that moment, Gloria noticed Detective King walking from a back room. He motioned to the woman Gloria was arguing with to let her know he would take over. The woman rolled her eyes at Gloria, then stepped away.

  “Mrs. Jones,” Detective King said, “I need you to calm down, okay? You’re causing quite a scene.”

  “Is Jamal here? Is he okay?” Gloria asked. She didn’t have time to hear his admonishments.

  “He is okay. Nobody touched him. I made sure of it. I promised your husband that I would look out for him.”

  “Are you going to stay here with him? Are you going to spend the night in his cell?” Gloria asked. She was grateful to hear that he was okay, but she would get no peace until she saw it for herself.

  “No, but all we can do is pray for the best.”

  Pray, pray, pray. Everybody wanted her to pray. Obviously, her prayers weren’t working. She wanted action, not prayers.

  “Just understand that I’m doing all that I can to keep him safe,” Detective King continued. “There’s a lot of attention on this case. I reiterated that to my fellow officers. So, if something happens to Jamal, they know they’re under scrutiny. Maybe that will keep them calm.”

  “Maybe?” Gloria snapped. “You want me to trust my son with some maybes?”

  “Look, just go on home,” Detective King said. “Find you an attorney and let’s go about trying to take care of this with your son the legal way.”

  Gloria took a deep breath. She knew he was right. She wouldn’t get anywhere acting a fool in this police station. If anything, she would just aggravate these people even more and they’d take it out on her son.

  “Come on, Gloria, let’s go home,” Elton said again.

  Detective King nodded. “I suggest you listen to your husband.”

  Gloria cut her eyes at Elton but ignored him. “I’ll go home,” she said. “But I’m gonna be back in the morning and I’ll be back every single day until somebody tells me something.”

  “I understand that,” he said. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  “Let’s go,” Elton said.

  Gloria glared at her husband. “The only place you need to go, Reverend Jones, is straight to hell.” She stormed out of the building, angrier than she’d ever been in her life.

  16

  * * *

  * * *

  The hustle of the Harris County District Attorney’s Office was something out of a network TV show. Prosecutors scrambled, attorneys bargained, defendants prayed. Kay was going to miss this atmosphere.

  She reminded herself not to get too cocky. This was a contentious election. But Kay had already begun noting some things that she would change. It’s not that her boss, Sam, wasn’t doing a good job, but he hated ruffling racial feathers, so she’d seen him come down on the lenient side too many times.

  “So, you have the 20/20 interview at nine, then the Houston Chronicle at
ten.” Loni’s hard-driving planning mode shook Kay out of her thoughts.

  “Thanks,” Kay said just as her boss tapped on her office door.

  “Good morning, Kay,” Sam said, walking in before she could invite him in. “Hello, Loni.”

  “Hello, Mr. Turner,” Loni said as she headed toward the door. “Mrs. Christiansen, I’ll go make sure the conference room is set up.”

  Kay waited until Loni was gone and smiled at Sam. “Wow. I get a visit from the boss twice in one month. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

  “Always good when it comes to you, Kay,” he said. “I came to personally hand-deliver this.” He handed her a thick manila folder. “Your last case before you become my boss. It’s out of Jasper.”

  Kay took the folder, opened it, then began sifting through the stack of papers.

  “Oh, I heard about this case on the news,” she said.

  “Well, they caught him and you know they’re not playing,” Sam said. “This thing will be fast-tracked. Seems like they’re trying to ward off any racial unrest. Some civil rights folks have already gotten riled up. They have a march planned this weekend and everything.”

  “So, they are protesting? But isn’t there video of the kid shooting the cop?”

  “Doesn’t seem to matter,” Sam said. “Black kid, white cop, Jasper, Texas, equals a recipe for disaster. They’re anticipating a change in venue and wanted to give us a heads-up to get ready for it.”

  “Should I be taking this case, though?” Kay asked. Granted, the election was just over two months away, but a trial like this could drag on for many months.

  Sam nodded. “This is a high-profile case. Lots of media attention. Not only good for you for the election, but good for the department. Plus, they’ll be less likely to scream about any improprieties if you’re the prosecutor.”