The World in Reverse

by Latrivia Nelson

  “No,” Agosto growled. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” He shook his head emphatically.

  There was a low chuckle of disbelief from Johnson, despite the brevity of the situation. “Agosto, you just fucked that dude up so bad until he needs a bus. There is going to be blow back from this from the heads…” Johnson sighed. “From everyone. Shit, you got people recording this on their phones across the street.”

  They both looked across the main thoroughfare at the crowd, growing by the moment and screaming out for justice for the man who appeared to have been beaten by a cop for no apparent reason.

  Nicola could feel his stomach turn. He was being set up, and he had actually fallen for it, taken the bait like an idiot. For that, he wanted to go over and finish the perp off.

  “Nine times out of ten, someone over there in that lynch mob is going to have the ass beating you just gave this guy on YouTube before he even gets to the hospital. Then the calls from the NAACP are going to start.” Johnson tried not to panic. “This is bad. This is fucking disastrous.”

  “How many times do I have to say it? The guy just threatened my family and you’re talkin’ to me about being sued? I could give a flying fuck about being sued right now. I want that bastard’s head on a silver platter!” Nicola’s voice rose.

  Johnson looked Agosto in the eye without blinking. “No man, I’m not talking about you being sued. I am talking about jail time.”

  The thought slightly snapped Agosto out of his rage. He looked back at the perp again. “If I am going to have to do jail time, then I should have killed his ass.”

  “Think about what you’re saying,” Johnson whispered. He gripped Nicola’s shoulder. “If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for your family. How are you going to keep them safe, if you’re locked up?”

  Nicola began to think clearer. “It’s already done. It can’t be undone and…”

  “Give me a minute,” Johnson said, walking over to the other side of Nicola’s SUV. He opened the back door and looked around. “Hey,” he screamed out to the male officer tending to the man. “We’ve got a weapon over here. Looks like a shank or some shit.”

  Nicola turned around and walked closer, but Johnson threw up his hand. “Detective Agosto, I’m going to need you to stay on that side of the truck. This is evidence.”

  The male officer walked over to the other side of the truck beside Johnson and looked into the truck where a handmade shank was thrown on the back seat. He looked over at Johnson and shook his head, understanding what Johnson meant.

  “Yeah, sir. You need to stay over there,” he said, barely looking Agosto’s way.

  “Looks like the detective was just protecting himself,” Johnson said with raised brows at the officer. “True, it may have gotten a little out of control, but there was obviously a concealed weapon on the guy. He probably tried to get loose, get to his shank, resisted arrest, blah, blah, blah,” Johnson said, rolling his eyes.

  “Johnson that’s not what happened,” Agosto said, quickly denying the false story.

  Johnson’s eyes grew larger as if to tell Agosto to shut the hell up. “Well, how did this shank get here? I didn’t put it there,” Johnson said, turning to the cop. “Did you?”

  “No, sir,” the male cop snapped.

  “You’re just shook up right now. You lost your head for a minute. Stay over there and cool down. Think a little.” Johnson pulled out a cigarette and lit it as he did the same. Only, he was thinking of how to cover Nicola’s ass, not his own.

  10

  News swept through the city like wildfire about the beating that Nicola Agosto had given to an unidentified man whom he was transporting, possibly about the Baby Boys case. Five of the people who had witnessed the assault had already posted their video to YouTube or handed over footage to the local media. The videos that had been uploaded to YouTube had already received over 500,000 hits. It played in college rooms, board rooms and living rooms across the country. People watched on in disbelief as they witnessed what was being called the new Rodney King video of the 21 century.

  COP BEATS PRISONER NEARLY TO DEATH was one of the video titles.

  WHITE COP LOSES CONTROL AND KICKS BLACK MAN’S ASS was another title on YouTube.

  Facebook pages all over the internet posted the video to share with their friends. Responses ranged from outrage to pride to indifference.

  Twitter exploded with the story of Nicola Agosto. By evening, he had his own hash mark.

  #NICOLA_AGOSTO was used over 50,000 times by seven that evening.

  While the recordings were crude, it was evident that Nicola had used excessive force. From every vantage point of the footage, people saw that the victim was still in handcuffs at the time that the assault took place, and it was clear that he did not fight back. The only thing that people did not know was why any of it had happened.

  So far, the Memphis Police Department had not issued a statement except the incident was “currently under investigation.”

  News reporters from every station were broadcasting live from not only from the police station where Nicola was being interrogated by Internal Affairs but also from the Med where the victim was being treated for his injuries and in front of the Kroger’s grocery store on Union where the assault had taken place. People who witnessed the crime also spoke with the media, visibly upset from the scene and baffled by the entire situation.

  One woman cried on camera begging for the Memphis Police Department to “please do something to stop this kind of blatant racist brutality of the African-American community.”

  Since CNN was already broadcasting about the news conference earlier in the day, they also seized the opportunity to use the footage from Nicola at the news conference to package the breaking story of his alleged brutal “beating of a local gang member.” His backstory was flashing across national news outlets, everything from his credentials to his previous cases and relationship to fallen officer K. C. Brooks.

  In just a few hours, the entire city of Memphis was buzzing with chatter. People in offices and homes called in to local talk radio stations, tuned in to local programming where Nicola was being lauded as a broken hero or accused of being a closet racist.

  National human and civil rights groups had already issued statements on their websites and their social media outlets. The NAACP, Rainbow Push Coalition, several grassroots groups and legal associations were demanding Nicola’s head and justice for the victim.

  A white cop in a city known for its divisiveness had publicly humiliated, beaten and brutalized a young black man, not for his actions but allegedly for words. The new story for prime time that evening was not just the Baby Boys case, it was also about the now instantly famous Nicola Agosto.

  ***

  When Ivy received the text from her husband, she was still in a meeting with Mike Hughes and her boss. She nearly dismissed it until it buzzed several time. Nicola was not known for long texts. If it was more than just a few lines that he had to type, he simply called. He had always said that texting was not for him, yet she insisted that they do it to keep from interrupting each other’s work schedules.

  Baby, I need you to drop whatever you are doing and get the kids and get to your mother’s house. Don’t go home. I’ve done something horrible. I’ll explain it later, but right now I just need to know that you are safe and that you received this. I love you and I’m very sorry, he had texted to her.

  After reading the text, she immediately pushed away from the board room table and stood up interrupting the conversation taking place. Her face was void of color and her eyes watering.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m afraid something has happened…a family emergency.” She gathered her paperwork in her arms and without waiting for a response darted out of the room.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Mr. Letewich asked, confused by Ivy’s sudden mid-stream change. The meeting was going so well, and it was most unlike her to leave in such a dramatic way.

  Ivy stopped
at the door and looked back at her boss. “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “Mr. Hughes, I apologize for my need to leave. Please don’t allow this to reflect on the firm’s ability to…”

  “Family comes first,” Mike said, thinking that a family member must have been ill based upon her behavior.

  It took only minutes for Ivy to make her way out of the office. Dropping her things on her desk, she quickly grabbed her keys and purse and headed to the parking lot.

  The first thing that she did when she was out of the earshot of colleagues and clients was call her husband back. Unfortunately, all she got was his voicemail.

  “This is Nicola. Leave a message.”

  She hung up the phone and cursed. “Damn it, what is going on?” she asked as the phone rang.

  It was her mother. Heart thudding against her chest cavity, she answered. “What’s wrong, Mom?” she asked.

  “Have you seen the news?” Sadie asked, turning down the television.

  “No, what has happened?” Ivy asked, worried about Nicola. “What happened?”

  “Honey, Nicky beat someone…a prisoner he was transporting. The reports aren’t good. Have you spoken with him?”

  “No.” Ivy stopped in her tracks. Running a hand through her hair, she looked around the packed parking lot. “He won’t answer his phone.” Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. “Who did he beat?”

  “A boy. A black boy. The reports so far aren’t good. You should come home now, Ivy. Whatever that is going on at that office can wait.”

  She walked up to her reserved parking spot. Her heels clicked on the concrete ground echoing in the hollow area. “I’m on the way now. He told me to get the kids and come to your place,” Ivy said, hitting the fob on her keychain to unlock the doors of her car.

  “Where are you?” Sadie asked.

  “In the parking garage of my office,” she said, getting in the car.

  Sadie’s heart skipped a beat. “Listen to me, get out of there and get here now. I’ve sent Madison after the kids at the camp already. Just come straight here,” Sadie said worried. “And don’t tell anyone where you’re going.”

  ***

  Several hours after the assault had hit the news and spread like wildfire, Nicola was still locked in an interrogation room of the MPD’s headquarters, giving his statement about what had happened. Two of the Securities Squad’s toughest bulldogs were unleashed on the case per hardliner Councilman Ferris’s demands of the police department, which were also leading the news at the top of every hour.

  Nicola didn’t know how bad things had gotten. As soon as his lieutenant made the scene, he was immediately escorted out of public view and thrown in a room without a window. Only he wasn’t particularly concerned about theatric Gestapo tactics as he was about the safety of his family.

  Sergeant Sandy Newton, a blonde, athletic bombshell with piercing blue eyes stood in front of Nicola with a piece of paper in her slender fingers. She was statuesque and perfectly put together in black slacks that fit her long legs and blue oxford that fit her perky breasts. Her gold badge rested on her hip on the opposite side of her gun. One could tell just by looking at her that she loved her job, loved being in charge and being presumed to be a certifiable bad ass, but her act was quickly lost on Nicola.

  Placing the paper on the table, she put her hand flat on the document and slid it roughly over to him. Her eyes penetrated through his daze and willed him to pay attention to her.

  “Sergeant Agosto,” she said in a husky southern drawl.

  He looked up from the table, hazel brown eyes glazed over and blinked hard like he had just woken from a deep sleep.

  She continued when she saw that getting any more statements out of Nicola for the moment might take an act of congress.

  “You’ve been charged with excessive force and conduct unbecoming of an officer. You’re relieved of duty pending an investigation. This suspension is paid until your hearing. You are to turn over your badge and gun immediately and not speak to the press regarding this matter. Do you understand?” She tilted her head as she stared down at him, waiting for a response.

  Nicola looked back down at the paper in front of him and read it slowly. After three hours of an intense investigation of both he and Johnson and both uniformed officers who made the scene, he simply saw more bullshit on the document. There was no need to read anymore. It would only make him angrier.

  Swallowing hard, he took the pen offered up by her less than impressive partner, Sergeant Wilford, a skinny pale man with dull brown hair, bushy eyebrows, an unmistakably wide gap in his front teeth and sloping, unformed shoulders.

  “Yes, I understand,” he said, pushing back from the table. Taking off his shield, he placed it carefully on the table, rubbing his fingers over the brass one last time, before he quickly pulled his department-issued Glock 19 off his hip and set it on the table. It was hard to see his life’s work on the table, under scrutiny yet again, especially in a climate where the only thing keeping this city safe was cops willing to put their lives on the line.

  It was sickening. After everything, this was the thanks that he received.

  Sergeant Newton looked surprised that he didn’t have much to say. He was expecting an outburst of some kind - at least a plea to reconsider, but Nicola remained quiet, if not composed. Everyone else involved from Johnson to the cops on the scene were screaming that he was innocent, yet he didn’t seem to want to fight for his job one way or another.

  “Do you have any questions at all before you are excused?” she asked, watching him head to the door.

  Nicola opened the door and looked back at her. “No,” he said sternly, walking out. The door slammed loudly behind him as he headed down the hallway. Officers and detectives watched with a myriad of expressions on their faces. Some wore sympathy others wore disdain.

  As he hit the elevator to head down to the lobby, Johnson came down the opposite hall yelling for him.

  “Agosto,” he said, running to catch him.

  Nicola turned around and gritted his teeth.

  “How did it go?” Johnson asked, chewing on gum and looking around. “These motherfuckers hounded me in there, but I think everything is cool.”

  Before Nicola could control himself, he had Johnson’s shirt in his hands and pushed him hard up against the wall.

  “What the fuck!” Johnson gasped, trying to push Nicola off of him.

  “You were the only one that I told that Ivy was pregnant. No one else knew,” Nicola growled.

  “You think I had something to do with this?” Johnson asked with a frown. “Man, get the fuck off of me.”

  Nicola didn’t budge.

  “You’d be in fucking cuffs, if it weren’t for me. How the fuck would I have anything to do with it, huh? I told you to beat the shit out of that guy? I lost the only lead we had?” he was dumbfounded by Nicola’s thought process.

  “He knew very specific information about me, most of which, you knew!” Nicola seethed.

  “And the other shit I didn’t know?” Johnson asked, trying to keep his voice low. “I’m going to only tell you one more time to get your hands off of me.” He looked down at Nicola’s balled up fists clenching his black t-shirt and breathed heavily through his nostrils. “Well?”

  Nicola still didn’t budge. “If not you, then who?” His eyes were ablaze with suspicion.

  “We won’t ever find out if we both end up in the fucking hospital, and that’s where we’re headed if you don’t let me down,” Johnson said, looking Nicola in the eyes.

  Sliding him down the wall, Nicola stepped back a few feet and gathered his fleeting composure.

  Everyone within in earshot looked at them, waiting to see what would happen next but did nothing to separate the two.

  The peeping of the elevator opened drew Nicola and Johnson’s attention.

  “Let’s go talk alone,” Johnson said, looking down the hallway at the hordes of cops.

  Nicola stepped inside o
f the elevator after Johnson and the doors closed quietly.

  “What would make you think that I’d have a reason to be a part of this?” Johnson asked, keeping his eyes on the doors of the elevator.

  “You knew about Twist. He showed up dead. You knew about Ivy and suddenly so does the perp. You knew where I lived and how to get to me. You knew about the girl…”

  Johnson threw up a hand. “Let me stop you right there. Yes, I knew, but why would I sabotage this case?”

  “Maybe you’re on the take,” Nicola said, looking over at him.

  “I should shoot you in your fucking face for saying that shit. What? You think you’re the only good cop on this force?” Johnson huffed and straightened his clothes. “Whoever is setting you up wants you to fall apart.”

  “Well, it’s working,” Nicola said as the doors opened.

  “You’re blowing this case,” Johnson said, stepping out into the quiet hallways of the lobby. “I don’t know if that means anything to you, but it should.”

  There was a chuckle in his voice. “This case is blown in case you haven’t noticed,” Nicola said, pulling his phone out. “Look, I need to get to my wife.”

  “Is she at the house?” Johnson asked alarmed.

  “And why would I tell you anything at all?” Nicola said with eyes narrowed.

  “Because right now, I’m the only one on your side. Because I’m the guy who showed up to cover your fucking ass and I’m owed more respect than being accused. Hey, I don’t know you. You don’t know me, but I’m here. If I wanted you off the case, if I was working for someone else, then I wouldn’t need you anymore, now would I? I’d be gone on about my business. Instead, here I am like a fucking bug up your ass, trying to stick it out because it could have easily been me,” Johnson snapped.

  “Bug,” Nicola huffed. He wiped a hand through his hair and shook his head.