Mama's Boy

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  “The officer’s family wants to have a word with you before we start,” Loni said. “Is it okay to bring them in?”

  “Yes, we have a few minutes,” Kay replied. “I’d love to meet them.”

  Loni opened the door and motioned for the Wilkins family to walk in. Just like Loni said, they were an all-American family. The pain they were feeling lingered over them like a dark cloud.

  Kay extended her hand to the young woman who was clearly Officer Wilkins’s widow. “Mrs. Wilkins, nice to meet you. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

  “Thank you for seeing us,” Mrs. Wilkins said. “This is my ­mother- and father-in-law.” She pointed to the elderly couple, who nodded their greeting.

  “We just, we just wanted to ask that you get this to trial as soon as possible. We can’t take much more of this,” Mrs. Wilkins said.

  “I want you to know I won’t stop until I get justice for your husband. I’ve taken prosecutorial discretion and he will be tried as an adult.”

  “Thank God,” Officer Wilkins’s father said.

  The look on Mrs. Wilkins’s face crushed Kay’s heart. Her eyes were sunken and hollow and it almost seemed like her soul was empty.

  “Keith was my everything,” she said. “We’ve been together since we were fourteen. My babies,” her hand went to her stomach, “including the one I’m carrying, will never know their father.”

  Kay was speechless. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were pregnant.”

  Slow tears trickled down her face. “Neither did Keith,” she said. “I found out the day before I buried him.”

  Kay felt someone pulling at her skirt. She looked down to see the dimpled little girl tugging at her hemline.

  “Are you gonna lock up the bad man that killed my daddy?” she asked.

  Kay knelt down to get eye level with the little girl. “Yes, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure we get justice for your father.”

  “Please,” the little girl cried as she clutched a teddy bear. “I’m sad. Who’s gonna take me to Daddies and Donuts at my school now?”

  Mrs. Wilkins pulled her daughter close as Kay stood back up.

  “Please, just help us get some closure,” Mrs. Wilkins said, trembling as she held her daughter tight.

  Kay took her hand. “I promise you, I will put your husband’s killer in jail. I will make him pay, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Kay took each case seriously, but for some reason, seeing this fatherless family, she couldn’t help but feel this one had just turned personal.

  22

  * * *

  * * *

  Gloria watched in anticipation as the TV news anchor announced that the prosecuting attorney was approaching the podium. The well-dressed prosecutor ignored the flash of bulbs as she took her place at the front of the room. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back out of her face and she had on just enough makeup to bring out her beauty, but not seem overbearing.

  “Good evening. And thank you all for gathering here,” the prosecutor began.

  Gloria leaned in and peered at the television. Where did she know that woman from? After a moment, a memory flashed. Could it be?

  Gloria shook the thought off. Desperation was making her delusional.

  “Good afternoon, I’m Kay Christiansen with the Harris County District Attorney’s Office. Our office has been tasked with the controversial trial out of Jasper, Texas, involving sixteen-year-old Jamal Jones.” Jamal’s mug shot appeared on the screen. “Jones is accused in the shooting death of a decorated Jasper police officer, Keith Wilkins. Jones will be tried as an adult by this office. We want to assure the community that justice will be served.” The camera panned over to what must’ve been Officer Wilkins’s family.

  “We want Officer Wilkins’s family, his beautiful daughter, his precious baby boy, and his lovely wife to know that their loved one’s death will not go unpunished.”

  “Excuse me,” a reporter said, raising her hand. “Are you fighting this hard because crime is a platform you plan to pursue if you’re elected mayor?”

  “I’m fighting this hard because the family of Officer Wilkins deserves nothing less. Yes, I am running for mayor. But currently I am a prosecutor and until the suspect in this case is brought to justice, my only focus is prosecuting this case to the fullest extent of the law,” Kay replied.

  To the fullest extent of the law.

  Each word cut at Gloria’s core. Her son didn’t stand a chance. No way could a defense attorney go up against this woman. When she first saw her, Gloria thought that maybe since she was black, they’d stand a chance. But this woman looked like she didn’t play and race would play no factor in anything she did.

  Gloria studied the woman as she continued talking. When the camera zoomed in closer, all thoughts of delusion were gone. “Oh. My. God,” Gloria mumbled. She bolted from her seat and raced into the back study, where Elton was working. She swung his door open, causing him to jump.

  “Gloria, what are you doing? You know I don’t like to be disturbed when I’m working on my sermon.”

  “You’ve got to see this,” she said, grabbing the remote for his nineteen-inch office TV. She clicked the on button.

  “Look at the prosecutor.” She jabbed toward the TV. “The lady that will be trying Jamal’s case.”

  Elton stared at the TV, confused. “Okay, so a black woman is prosecuting him?”

  Gloria paused the TV and said, “Look closer.”

  Elton studied the TV screen for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

  “It’s Kayla,” Gloria said.

  Elton’s eyes grew wide and he dropped the pen he’d been holding. “Oh my Lord.”

  They hadn’t seen or heard from Kayla Matthews in years.

  “That’s a good thing, right?” Gloria paced back and forth across the room, struggling to contain her excitement. “I mean, she’s the prosecutor. God is looking out for us! I need to go see her.”

  “No, you will not!” Elton said, pounding his desk as he stood up. His tone caught her off guard.

  “What?” Gloria lost her smile and looked at her husband, stunned.

  “I forbid it.”

  “This is our son we’re talking about,” Gloria said in disbelief.

  “What do you think she’s going to do? Just let him off ? Put her job at risk? To help us out?”

  “But . . .”

  “But nothing,” Elton said with finality. “Leave this alone. Now, we can find Jamal an attorney, but you talking to her is not going to do anyone any good.” He was actually shaking as he slid back into his seat. “Digging up the past won’t help anyone.”

  “Elton, I don’t believe you.”

  He slammed his palm on his desk again. “You betrayed me by going behind my back and hiding Jamal.” He stood again, then moved around the desk to face her. “As God is my witness, if you approach Kayla, there will be hell to pay.”

  He stormed out of the room, leaving her stunned and trying to figure out what just happened.

  23

  * * *

  * * *

  Kay hadn’t been able to get that little girl out of her mind.

  Who’s gonna take me to Daddies and Donuts now?

  “Just one more game, Mom. Please, please, please?”

  Kay could only laugh at the sight of her son jumping up and down, acting like a child for a change and not some studious college student. That’s why she gladly reached in her purse and handed him another twenty so that he and Charlie could go play another game of laser tag.

  “Thank you so much!” Ryan exclaimed as he darted back to buy another game.

  Camille walked over and set a Diet Coke down in front of Kay. They’d been at laser tag for the last hour and a half and both of th
em were ready to go. But Kay loved seeing her son relaxed, so she was willing to give him another hour, plus it had given her a chance to catch up with Camille.

  “Are they playing again?” Camille said as she slid into her seat. “This is what, game number four?”

  “Yes,” Kay said, taking a sip of her drink, “and the last one because I really do have to get home and get some work done.”

  “Yeah,” Camille replied, “I saw the press conference. I thought you said you weren’t doing any more cases because of the mayoral race.”

  “Believe me, I’d rather not. But my boss just kind of put this on my table because it’s so high profile.”

  “Oh, so he needs his ace boon coon ADA to take it down?”

  Kay laughed, ignoring Camille’s obvious racial reference. “You got jokes.”

  “You know I’m just messing with you,” Camille said. “You’re the best ADA in that office, black, white, or purple. But that is a pretty sad case.”

  “For the slain officer, it sure is. And with the video, it shouldn’t be hard to prosecute,” Kay said.

  “I just can’t imagine Charlie being caught up in something like that,” Camille said.

  “Charlie wouldn’t be caught up in anything like that,” Kay replied. “Neither would Ryan. We got some good kids here. You and I might be busy moms but we make sure our boys are taken care of.”

  They watched as two little boys dang near knocked each other down trying to get into the laser tag area.

  “I don’t know, Kay. Sometimes this whole parenting thing has me questioning whether I really know what I’m doing, because my sister gave her son everything, did everything right, and he still took a wrong path, robbing a store when he had the world at his fingertips.”

  “Yeah, I know that happens,” Kay replied. “But we’re laying the foundation right for our children. And we just have to trust them. Continue what we’ve built on.”

  Camille looked unsure but nodded just the same. “So did the kid that shot the cop have a record?”

  “Nope, he hadn’t been in any real trouble, but if he’s hanging out at one in the morning, looking the way he looked, I’ll say it was just a matter of time.”

  “Didn’t they have some kind of protest down there? I saw something about that on the news the other day.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I don’t understand,” Kay replied. “Black folks get all up in arms behind the wrong causes. Civil rights activists get folks all hyped up and they put on their marching caps when clearly the kid was in the wrong.”

  “Oh, come on now, Kay. You don’t think the justice system is just a little biased against black boys?”

  “No, don’t get me wrong. I do. I know there are a lot of things that need to be changed with the system. Our sentencing laws are unfair. But we can’t continue putting ourselves into bad situations and then when we get capped for it, turn around and talk about ‘the white man did us wrong.’ I can’t tell you the number of young men that come through my office, who are buying and selling dope left and right and the minute they get caught, wanna get mad because the cop is harassing him. Well, the cop is trying to keep the drugs off the street. Stay away from a life of crime and you won’t get harassed.”

  “I wish it was that easy,” Camille replied. “I mean, I think we’re being unrealistic to think that Ryan and Charlie are exempt just because they’re privileged. When a police officer pulls them over, they see a black boy and automatically assume the worst.”

  “I know that,” Kay replied. “That’s why I teach my son to obey the law and when you’re not obeying the law, don’t be defiant. Unfortunately, that’s the reality. Until we change the mind-set, let’s play it safe and just do what they say. What harm can be done in getting out of the car? It’s when we try to be defiant that things always go wrong.”

  “Hmph,” Camille said. “I think we’re gonna have to agree to disagree because I don’t want my son to become some pansy that shakes in fear every time a cop comes around.”

  “If he’s not doing anything wrong, there’s no reason to fear.”

  “Yeah, tell that to the countless black boys across the country who have been convicted and crucified because of the color of their skin.”

  “Well, I know you’re right to a degree. And that’s why I do appreciate the work Phillip is doing. And I want to change some of those things as mayor. I don’t know how, but I would love to be able to change that mind-set.”

  “Girl, please. You’re going to need some magic powers.” Camille waved her hand like the mere thought was unrealistic.

  Kay laughed. “How about we change the subject? How are you and Vincent doing?”

  That caused a shift in Camille’s demeanor. As hard as Camille tried to act, Kay knew that the divorce was tearing at her soul. “We’re doing okay. You know I never thought I’d be getting a divorce. But we’re trying to remain amicable for Charlie and Zola’s sake.”

  “You don’t think you can work it out?”

  “Let’s see . . . umm . . . his mistress is carrying twins. Not only do I not think I can work it out, I know I can’t. I don’t do ­baby-mama drama.”

  “Yeah, I can’t even get mad at you on that one. I wouldn’t be able to handle that, either.”

  Ryan and Charlie finally came bouncing back over. “Okay, I guess we can go now,” Ryan said.

  “Really? Are you sure? You don’t want one more game?” Camille asked.

  “We’re good,” he said with a laugh. “Because I know you’re just kidding anyway.”

  “You know me well,” she replied.

  “I gotta get home and study anyway,” Ryan replied.

  “Me, too,” Charlie echoed.

  “How did we raise such studious young men?” Kay asked.

  “We’re just some blessed mamas, I guess,” Camille said.

  As Kay watched them gather up their belongings, she couldn’t help but smile. She turned to her friend. “Yeah, we’re some of the lucky ones. We have some good kids and we just need to keep on counting our blessings.”

  24

  * * *

  * * *

  Gloria had been trying to keep her mind together; right now, laundry was helping her do that. She had just finished the second load when the doorbell rang. She prayed that it wasn’t more reporters—they’d been turning away a slew of media requests left and right. But when she glanced outside, Gloria saw a black man standing in a nice suit. Next to him was a bald man wearing a dashiki. There were two men who looked like bodyguards standing behind them. She slid the door open just a bit.

  “Hello, may I help you?”

  “Are you Mrs. Jones?” the man in the suit asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, and you are?” They didn’t look like reporters or police.

  He extended his hand. “I’m Reverend Luther Clayborn from Greater Good Missionary Baptist Church out of Houston. You may have heard of,” he pointed to the dashiki-wearing man next to him, “Minister Reuben Muhammad.”

  “As-salamu alaykum,” he said.

  Gloria had no idea what that meant, so she just nodded.

  She hadn’t heard of either one of the men and she didn’t understand why they were on her doorstep.

  “Is your husband home? We would like to have a word with you two,” Rev. Clayborn said.

  “He . . . he is. Hold on.” She closed the door and went back to the den, where Elton was perched back in his recliner, watching television. He’d been in his own world since he found out about Kayla. And since Gloria was still salty with him, that was just fine with her. “Elton, there are some men at the front door.”

  “I’m not in the mood to talk to the police, Gloria.” He didn’t take his eyes off the TV.

  “No, it’s not police. These are some ministers from Houston. Luther Clayborn and something Muhammad.”

 
Elton bolted upright. He must have known who they were because he jumped up and put his feet into his slippers and raced to the front of the house.

  “Hello,” he said, opening the door and vigorously shaking their hands. “It’s such an honor to meet you, Reverend Clayborn. I’ve heard great things about you.”

  “I was wondering if I could come in and have a quick word with you?” Rev. Clayborn asked.

  “Sure,” Elton replied, stepping to the side and gesturing for the men to come in.

  The men entered. Gloria offered them a glass of lemonade and both of them declined. The bodyguards stood at the door, like they were guarding it.

  “Would they like anything?” Gloria asked.

  The dashiki-clad man spoke up. “They’re fine.”

  Gloria took a seat next to her husband. She had no idea what these men were here about. But the looks on their faces said they meant business.

  “Well, Reverend Jones,” Rev. Clayborn began, “let me get straight to the point. We’ve been following the case of your son, and Minister Muhammad and I think this situation is prime to spearhead our Black Justice Coalition launch.”

  “Excuse me?” Elton said.

  Gloria’s ears perked up. She couldn’t tell if they were here to help her son or take advantage of him.

  “What is a Black Justice Coalition?” Elton asked.

  Minister Muhammad spoke up: “We are tired of seeing the black man denigrated and desecrated. And we are here to say we are not going to take it anymore.”

  Gloria frowned. He sounded like he was giving a prepared speech.

  He continued, “We’ve been looking for the perfect case to launch our campaign and we believe this is it.”

  Gloria decided to speak up since her husband appeared to be too intimidated to ask questions.

  “Why would you want to use my son’s case?” she asked.

  The two men exchanged glances, like they were trying to decide who would answer.