Influence

by Carl Weber

  With Krush being barred from the courtroom and me in a different unit, I didn’t get to see him before I got on the bus that morning. As angry as Tony had been after Meat’s testimony, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had already taken it out on Krush.

  “You didn’t do anything to him last night, did you?” I asked.

  “Nah. For now, I just made him move his bed as far away from me as possible.”

  I tried not to let it show, but I was relieved.

  “I heard he got his ass whipped again last night, but it wasn’t from my people,” Tony said. “Krush is his own worst enemy. A few days ago, I had to stop this dude from making Krush his bitch.”

  The thought of that turned my stomach. “So, after today, you and him cool?”

  He thought about it for a second, then said, “I wouldn’t say we cool, but he don’t have nothing to worry about from me. And I’ll keep them off his back best I can. I’m just trying to go home, Lang. That’s it.”

  “Me too, bro,” I said as the bus came to a halt and we were escorted off.

  Tony went to his unit, and I had just arrived at mine when one of the COs announced my name. “Hudson, let’s go!” he yelled, walking toward me with a pair of cuffs.

  “What? Go where?” I asked. “I just got back here. Where am I going?”

  “Shut the hell up and come on,” he said. “You don’t ask no questions. You do what the hell you’re told.”

  I glared at him as I held my wrists out for him to cuff. All eyes were on me as we walked out of my unit and down a long string of corridors and gates to an area I’d never been in. Finally, I reached a door where we were met by two forty-something-year-old white men. They had badges hooked to their belts, but they weren’t from the Department of Corrections or NYPD.

  “We got it from here,” one of them said, reaching for me.

  I began to panic. I didn’t know who the hell they were or where they were taking me. I thought about running, but the thought that I would probably be shot before I got ten feet away quickly changed my mind.

  “Wait, who are you? And where are we going?” I asked as they led me out of the building toward a black sedan.

  “US marshals,” one of them finally said as he opened the back door and guided me into the car. I ducked my head as I slid in. What could the Feds possibly want with me? I hoped I wasn’t being slapped with federal charges for the heroin. I racked my brain, trying to remember what I’d learned in law school. Could they even do that, switch charges from state to federal in the middle of a trial? And, I wondered, were Krush and Tony being picked up too? I looked around in search of another car, but I didn’t see one.

  “Where are we going?” I repeated as they got into the car. Neither one said anything as the car pulled off and we headed off to God knows where.

  Around forty minutes later, we pulled into the garage of a building in downtown Manhattan. They used their credentials to open the door to the building, and we went inside and got on what looked like a service elevator. Neither one said anything to me, and I still didn’t have a clue where I was being taken to. The elevator stopped, and they walked me down a dim hallway, finally bringing me into an empty office. I looked around, feeling even more confused. Then a side door opened, and I turned nervously in that direction.

  “Uncuff him,” my mother said. The marshals wasted no time removing the cuffs from my wrists.

  “Give us a call when you’re ready to take him back,” one of the men said. They quickly turned and headed out of the room, leaving my mother and me alone.

  “What is going on?” I asked, feeling weak in the knees after all that cloak and dagger shit.

  “How are you, Langston?” She touched the side of my face then wrapped her arms around me in an awkward embrace. Instead of flinching and groaning like I normally did when she tried to be affectionate, I hugged her back.

  “I’m fine, Ma,” I told her. “But I still don’t know what’s happening here. Are you breaking me out of jail?”

  “Hell no, boy! Ain’t nobody breaking you out.” She shook her head and gave me a half smile. I had to admit I was a little disappointed. Had she said yes, I wouldn’t have resisted. It would’ve been a boss-ass move. “I wanted to see you and I didn’t want to see my son behind bars. So, I decided to invite you to dinner.” She turned and opened the door she had just come through and beckoned for me to follow.

  I hesitated. “Dinner?”

  “Yes. All the other times I’ve invited you to dinner, you brought that girl. Now, you don’t have a choice, do you?”

  “Her name is Simone, Mom.”

  “Yes, of course, dear.”

  We stepped into a large conference room. Immediately, the source of the amazing aroma came into view. Spread out on the conference table was a smorgasboard of all my favorite foods: steak, snow crab legs, macaroni and cheese, smothered pork chops, and fried green tomatoes.

  “You hungry?” She held a plate out toward me.

  “Heck yeah!” I wasted no time taking it from her and piling it high.

  My mother laughed happily. “You don’t have to put everything on one plate, Langston. You have time for seconds, or thirds, if you like.”

  She made her own plate, and we sat across from each other at the end of the table. I dug in, enjoying every bite. My mother poured me a glass of iced tea, and I paused long enough to take a gulp.

  “I can’t believe you did all of this, Ma.” I sighed, cutting into my steak.

  “Well, I do have some pull with my position,” she said coyly. “There are some things your mama can make happen for you.”

  “You’re right about that. I’m lucky.” I suddenly realized that while I was indulging in a meal fit for a king, my boys were still in Rikers, eating swill and cookies for dinner. Guilt and sadness came over me.

  “Ma, can you make us getting out of jail happen?”

  “I wish I could, Langston.” She paused for a minute. “But I did want to talk to you about this situation. I have some thoughts.” She sat back and became serious.

  “What are they?”

  “I’ve looked at this thing, and I really think you should probably do the same thing that Kwesi did and take the deal.”

  “Deal? What deal?”

  “Your father turned down a plea agreement that I feel you should have taken.”

  “Mom, wait. . . .”

  “Langston, I know you want this thing to go to trial, but if you take the plea agreement, you’ll probably have to do less than a year.”

  My mind began racing. My father hadn’t mentioned anything to me about a plea agreement, and neither did Lamont. I didn’t want my mother to know that, so I decided to act as if I understood. The deal must not have been worth mentioning if they hadn’t said anything.

  “Mom, I know you’re trying to help, but Dad is the best. If he thinks we can win at trial, then we can win at trial,” I told her, picking up one of the crab legs and biting it. The sweet juice leaked out and went down my chin. She picked up a napkin and wiped it like I was a toddler.

  “Your father is a brilliant attorney. He can deliver a poignant argument, and his knowledge of the law is beyond impressive. I’ll give him that. He’s won some landmark cases. But, Langston, your mother is a judge, and a damn good one. I see things from a totally different perspective, and I’m telling you, this case isn’t as strong as he thinks it is. Trust me on this one.”

  “Trust you?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Fine, I get it. I’m probably the last person who should be talking to you about trust. I admit I made some poor choices when it came to my family, and I chose my career. I’m woman enough to admit it and apologize for it.”

  “So, this whole dinner with your incarcerated son is your way of making amends? Kinda like the car, huh? This is some kind of penance for your guilt, and now you’re trying to throw a monkey wrench between me and Dad?” I frowned, suddenly ready to leave.

  “No, that’s not it at all,” she s
aid, obviously hurt by my words. “Despite the strained relationship that you and I have, Langston, you are my son, and I love you dearly. I don’t want you to spend another night in jail, let alone a year. At the end of the day, I don’t give a shit about Bradley. My concern is you, and only you. Take the deal, son.”

  I heard a phone ring with a sinister tone, and she heaved a loud sigh. “Hold on a minute, sweetie. That’s your father. He probably found out that you’re with me.” She took the phone out of her purse and rolled her eyes as she answered. “Hello, Bradley. What can I do for you?”

  I began to eat again as my mother put on airs, making dramatic faces while she listened to my father.

  “Yes, Bradley, he is with me.” My mother was silent for a second, then the attitude dropped off her face. She looked stricken. “You want me to tell him what? . . . I can’t tell him that.”

  “What, what is it, Ma?” I asked. Her demeanor told me it wasn’t anything good.

  She didn’t speak. She just placed the phone on speaker.

  “Dad, what’s going on? What wrong with Mom?” I asked hurriedly.

  I could hear him exhale wearily. “Son, I don’t know how to tell you this, but . . . but Krush is dead.”

  I was sure I hadn’t heard him correctly. “Wait. What did you say, Dad?”

  Once again, he let out a huff of air. “I said your friend Krush is dead. He slit his wrists with a razor in the shower at Rikers.”

  Langston

  57

  I felt like I’d been moving in a dense fog for the past week. Thank God the judge had ordered the trial halted for the rest of the week for bereavement, because without it, I might have had a mental breakdown. I felt like I was about to cry every time I thought about my poor frat brother taking his own life.

  On our first day back to court, Tony and I were escorted into a small attorney’s room to meet with my father, Desiree, and Lamont after we dressed. When we were alone, Dad hugged us both tight.

  “Listen, I know this is hard on you both. I really am sorry about Kirb—I mean Krush. He was a nice young man, and his death shocked us all, but we’ve gotta get ready for what’s about to happen when we go in there today,” Dad explained.

  “Kwesi,” I said.

  “Yes, Kwesi.” Dad nodded. “Now, we don’t know exactly what his testimony will be, but most likely it’s going to be exactly what the DA needs it to be. Just like they did with Meat.”

  “I can’t believe Kwesi’s doing this.” I stared at the table as tears began to well up in my eyes once again. I looked over to Tony, who was dazed and confused.

  “Well, he is, and we need to be prepared,” Dad said.

  “Krush is gone, and Kwesi’s turned his back on us. Do we even have a chance to win this, Mr. Hudson?” Tony asked. “Be honest.”

  Dad glanced at my brother, who spoke up.

  “That’s the plan, but the best way to make that happen is to change our strategy,” Lamont said.

  “To what?” I asked.

  Lamont looked at my Dad as if waiting for permission to proceed—or like he really didn’t want to have to be the one to say it. I immediately felt it in my gut. I knew what their plan was before Lamont even said it out loud.

  “We’re going to have to put the drugs on Krush.” Lamont was unable to make eye contact as he admitted their shameless strategy.

  “What? Hell no. Not Krush.” I shook my head. “I’m not doing that. I’m not putting this on him.”

  “You have to. It’s the best chance you have of getting out of here,” Desiree said.

  “No way. Krush was a good dude, not some hardcore street thug like you want to make him into now that he’s not here to defend himself. We’re not gonna be disloyal to his memory like that,” I insisted. “Come up with another strategy.”

  Dad said, “This isn’t about loyalty. It’s about reasonable doubt. Do we really know that the drugs didn’t belong to him? Maybe that’s why he decided to—”

  “Don’t, Dad! Don’t do that,” I said, no longer fighting back the tears.

  “We wouldn’t have to testify that he did it, would we?” Tony asked.

  “Lamont and I will insinuate it, and I’ll hopefully lead Kwesi down that road,” Dad explained. “But eventually, one of you is going to have to testify. Most likely it will be you, Langston, because you were driving, and we don’t want the State to bring Tony’s brothers’ criminal record into this, which they will if he’s on the stand.”

  I stood my ground. “We’re not doing this. I know Kwesi. He’s not going—”

  Tony stopped me. “We don’t know what Kwesi is gonna do, Lang. We thought we knew Krush, didn’t we? Right now, we need to do whatever we can to get up out of here.”

  “I hear you,” I said to Tony, “but we ain’t blaming Krush.”

  “Then dammit, let’s blame Kwesi!” Tony replied.

  Lamont looked at Dad and kind of shrugged like it wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever heard. “I like blaming the guy who can’t rebuke us more, but it could work,” he said. “This would still create reasonable doubt.”

  “Langston?” My father stared at me, waiting for a response.

  Finally, I had to admit I was backed into a corner with no way out—at least not one that would allow me to stay loyal to my frat brother. “Okay, but only if he blames us,” I said.

  Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in the courtroom, listening to the judge address the jury. The atmosphere was somber. Probably everyone was still in a state of shock, including ADA Brown and the judge.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I’d like to start by thanking you for your cooperation and patience with this situation,” the judge started. Then he turned to James Brown and said, “When we recessed, the prosecution stated it had one final witness. Are you ready to proceed?”

  My heart began pounding, and I stared at the side where inmates entered the courtroom, knowing that Kwesi was about to enter and try to seal our fate. I thought about the times he and I had shared and the conversations we’d had over the course of our friendship. Out of everyone, Kwesi had been the who stressed the importance of loyalty among us. We knew he would give us his last dime and the shirt off his back if we needed it, and he had expected the same from us. I couldn’t believe he was now about to take the stand and testify against us. I swallowed hard as James Brown stood up.

  “Your Honor, in light of the overwhelming evidence and testimony in our favor, the State rests its case at this time. We have no further witnesses.”

  There was a collective gasp in the courtroom.

  So, Kwesi was not testifying after all? Unsure of what this meant, I looked over at my father. He seemed just as confused as I was.

  “Okay then,” the judge said. “Mr. Hudson, is the defense ready to proceed?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” My father stood up. “However, we were expecting the State to continue their case, so we are requesting a one-day recess so that we may prepare.”

  The judge paused for a moment to consider the request. I swear my heart stopped beating while we waited. Finally, he said, “That will be fine. We will resume tomorrow morning when the defense will present its first witness.”

  As soon as the gavel hit the podium and we stood, I put my arm on Tony’s shoulder then looked at my father, feeling pride for my frat. “I told you. I know my brothers. We would never turn our backs on each other.”

  Bradley

  58

  The office had been a somber place in the week after Krush’s death, and now that we had begun to present our case, the pressure was enormous. The whole team had been working late, and the night wasn’t getting any younger when I walked into the conference room. Lamont, Desiree, and Perk were all diligently working on their individual pieces of Langston’s case, and nobody even looked up. I took my regular seat, placing a folder on the conference room table.

  I silently watched them for a while. They had no idea how much I loved them—even Perk, who was like a son to me
. I looked around the room at all the photos of great Harlemites we’d represented and the civic awards Hudson and Associates had received. We’d come a long way since that one-room office in the basement of a brownstone thirty-something years ago. I felt good about what I had built, and I had hoped to see Langston working alongside them at this very table. Now, I was starting to have my doubts about that.

  I yawned and stretched my arms out wide, placing my feet up on the conference room table. Working on Langston’s case had worn me out, and I was starting to feel my age. I’d handled even more intense cases than this one, but none had taken its toll on me as physically and mentally as this one. Then again, none of the other cases involved one of my children. Something else had also been weighing heavily on my mind lately, and it was becoming quite a distraction. I’d decided it was time to get it off my chest so my head would be clear for Langston’s defense.

  “So, Lamont,” I said. “You’ve been trying to get my ear for weeks about the future of this firm. Talk to me.”

  Lamont raised an eyebrow. “Now? I’m working on my notes for Langston’s testimony tomorrow.”

  Lamont was always trying to tell me what I needed to change, or what I was doing wrong. I was impressed that with this serious work in front of him, he was staying focused. That type of dedication would make him a superstar attorney after a few more years of experience. Still, I needed to have this conversation now, so I didn’t back down.

  “Come on,” I pushed.

  Desiree lifted her head up from the file it was buried in, looked at Lamont, then returned her attention to the file.

  I could see the wheels turning in his head as he gathered his thoughts, mentally assembling his presentation.

  “Well, the short answer is . . .” he started.

  I gave him an indifferent nod.

  “I think we’ve reached a point where we either grow or die.”

  Once again, Desiree snapped her head up. She shot me a look as if to suggest she knew where Lamont was about to go with his spiel, and she wanted to redirect.

  She looked to Lamont. “That doesn’t feel like an exaggeration to you? I mean, last year was our best year yet.”