Influence

by Carl Weber

  “What gun?” I had to stop myself from losing my shit, because I didn’t want the guards to come in and find me with the phone.

  “That same gun she had back when we was kids.”

  “Fuck! Are you serious? Where is she now?”

  “They got her out there in Staten Island. They ain’t even processed her fully yet. This ain’t good, bro. Ma ain’t gonna last with diabetes and her bad foot. Why the hell they got her out in Staten Island anyway?”

  “I know why,” I said.

  I knew it had something to do with that motherfucker Brown. I ended the call and went to my bunk, not even trying to fight the silent tears that were falling. I was in jail, Adonis was in jail, and now my mother was in jail. My heart ached as I thought about the woman who had raised me and how much I loved her. I would do whatever it took to get her out of there. Before lights out, I had the COs call the DA’s office. By midnight, I had a new lawyer and a promise that my momma would go free.

  The judge asked the jury to leave the courtroom, then instructed me to take the stand to be sworn in.

  “Mr. Baker, when did you notify Mr. Brown of this information?” the judge asked.

  “Uh . . . last night.”

  “And were you offered some sort of plea agreement?”

  “Sorta.”

  “And who approached you about this deal? Did Mr. Brown contact you?” the judge asked.

  “No, I contacted him when I found out that my old lawyer didn’t properly explain the three to five we were offered.” I looked over at the defense table and saw every one of the Hudsons glaring at me. I didn’t give a shit, though. My mother was all that mattered.

  “Was your attorney present to sign off on this plea?”

  “Yeah, my new lawyer was.”

  “We have a signed waiver of counsel, Your Honor. It’s right here. Mr. Baker was reminded of his Miranda Rights, and he understood them.” James Brown passed the bailiff the paper I’d signed when he came over to Riker’s that morning to meet with me.

  “Mr. Baker, you are aware that if I approve this waiver of counsel, then you no longer have a lawyer representing you?” the judge asked.

  “Yeah,” I answered.

  The judge read the paper he’d been handed and then said, “Looks correct to me, Mr. Hudson. I’m going to allow Mr. Baker to testify. Bring the jury back in.”

  During my testimony, James Brown had me repeat the details of our arrest, starting with Langston being pulled over, and everything that happened up until the search of the trunk. I confirmed everything that the other officers had said during the trial.

  “And, Mr. Baker, do you know who the heroin that was found in the trunk of the car belonged to?” James asked.

  “Yes.” I nodded.

  “Can you tell us?”

  I looked down and said, “Langston Hudson.”

  Langston bolted out of his seat. “What? You lying bastard! Why would you get up there and lie?”

  “Mr. Hudson, control your client!” the judge yelled.

  Lamont grabbed his brother and pulled him down.

  “And do you know where Mr. Hudson got the drugs?” James continued.

  “He got them from a connect I know through my brothers. We met up with him at this underground strip club, and he offered a sweet deal. Lang said he wanted to bring the heroin back to D.C. so he could triple his money, because the street value is higher.”

  “You’re a goddamn lie, Tony!” Langston yelled.

  “Objection! This is all hearsay!” Bradley shouted.

  “No, this isn’t hearsay if Mr. Baker witnessed the exchange, Your Honor,” James said calmly.

  “Overruled.”

  “So, is it your testimony that the drugs in question were bought and paid for by Langston Hudson?”

  “Yes. How else do you think they got in the car?” I said, feeling nothing. As soon as I’d agreed to testify against Lang, I forced myself to go numb inside. I couldn’t afford to feel guilty. The only thing I could think about was my mother’s freedom.

  “No further questions.”

  I guess the ADA had decided to quit while he was ahead. The damage had already been done. I had helped him poke the biggest hole in Hudson’s case, and it was deflating fast. Between Meat’s testimony, Krush’s violent outburst, and now me, it was looking like this case was going to be the major win the bastard had been wanting.

  “Cross, Mr. Hudson?” The judge aimed the question at Bradley, who was already headed toward me with a hateful look.

  “Your Honor, I request that this entire testimony be thrown out and the jury be instructed to disregard—”

  “No can do, Mr. Hudson. Please ask the witness a question.”

  Bradley looked like he was struggling to hold it together as he turned to question me. “Tony, why are you just now coming forth with this information? Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “Because . . . you were my lawyer. You told me I couldn’t testify, that only Langston could, because you didn’t want them to ask me any questions,” I mumbled, refusing to look up at him.

  “Oh, really? Is that the only reason why?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why now?” I could hear from his tone that he was suspicious. He probably knew that ADA Brown was somehow behind this, but hell, I wasn’t gonna help him prove that. If Bradley and James Brown wanted to kill each other, that was none of my fucking business. I just wanted my mother to go home.

  “Well, I thought about it, and why should I go to jail for something I didn’t do?” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say.

  “Tony, what the hell did you do?” Langston yelled out.

  I stared at the floor.

  “Mr. Hudson, one more outburst from your client and he’ll be escorted out and found in contempt,” the judge warned.

  Bradley walked over to Langston and whispered something in his ear. Then he said to the judge, “I have no more questions for this witness.”

  I slowly exited the witness stand, my shoulders slumped and my heart empty. I’d done what had to be done to save my mother, and that was the only thing that mattered, even if I had to betray my best friend in the process.

  James announced, “The State rests.”

  Bradley

  61

  Six hours. It had only taken six hours for the jury to come back. Any first-year law student knew that wasn’t a good sign. Taking my seat at the defense table, I glanced over at James, who was laughing and joking with his colleague like he didn’t have a care in the world. I wanted to go over and punch him in the throat for his aggressive prosecution of my son. But then Langston walked out the side entrance, and I tried to calm down. He hugged his sister, brother, and then me. It took me quite a while to let him go, because I was swept with an overwhelming feeling of guilt, and they hadn’t even read the verdict yet.

  The twelve members of jury entered their box, and I placed my earpiece in preparation for the judge’s arrival. When he walked in, the tension in the courtroom was through the roof.

  “Testing, one, two, three,” I whispered.

  “Hey, handsome,” I heard in my ear.

  “Hey,” I replied as the judge spoke to the jury.

  “You gonna be okay?’

  “I hope so,” I said.

  As the bailiff handed the jury’s verdict to the judge, I swept the jury box, searching for any expression that might give me the slightest hint as to what the verdict was. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I, as well as everyone else in the room, would learn the outcome, but every second felt more like an hour.

  I could not believe that after five months of this crap, Langston was facing this verdict alone. Three frat brothers were in that car with him the day he was arrested, and now he’d been abandoned by every one of them. My son didn’t deserve this.

  James and his team were assembled behind their table, and I swear they looked relaxed. Were they that confident in their performance? I looked over my shoulder and
spotted Jacqueline sitting toward the back. We made eye contact, and she gave me a nod, but her eyes revealed just how nervous she was.

  “On the charge of possession of a controlled substance,” the judge said, “how do you find?”

  The jury foreman was standing to recite the verdict. “We find the defendant guilty.”

  Chatter rippled through the courtroom, and the scratching sound of reporters scribbling notes became louder, but there was a shrill scream that surpassed every other noise. It was a sound that only a mother could make.

  “Oh, Jesus!” Jacqueline screamed before realizing she was still in the courtroom. She quickly put her hand over her mouth.

  Langston stood frighteningly still, while Desiree and Lamont looked like they wanted to cry. All I could do was drop my head and close my eyes. Thoughts of what I could have done differently ran through my head. Instead of auditioning Desiree and Lamont to see who would better be suited to take over the firm, perhaps I should have handled Langston’s case from the start. I’d honestly had no idea things would get this far.

  All of a sudden, I heard a low sound, almost like someone was moaning.

  “Nooooooooo.”

  Then it was louder.

  “No!”

  My eyes popped open, and I lifted my head to see my oldest son yelling out, distraught over the fate of his baby brother. Once again, I had to close my eyes to lock in the tears that threatened to fall. I was Bradley Hudson, founder and senior partner of Hudson and Associates. I would not let the media portray me as weak at this moment, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let James Brown see me cry.

  “Possession of a controlled substance. Approximately two kilos of heroin.” The judge continued on, overlooking the outcry from Lamont the same way he’d overlooked Jacqueline’s.

  “Guilty, Your Honor.” The foreman delivered the last of the verdicts and then took a seat.

  I could feel the sting of each verdict that had been read. By now, Langston had buried his face in his hands. I saw his shoulders heave just slightly. Like father, like son. He refused to shed a tear in the courtroom. I’d done my best with closing arguments, but as the song goes, I guess my best wasn’t good enough.

  “Jurors, thank you for your time. You are dismissed,” the judge said.

  Guilty. Fucking guilty. I staggered a bit in disbelief then sat in my chair, unable to move, speak, or even think. Everything around me sounded muffled: my wife in my ear, my daughter gasping, my son saying something inaudible, the reactions of everyone else in the courtroom. It felt as if an elephant were sitting on my chest. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. I told myself I was having a nightmare and tried to wake up, but the elephant on my chest kept getting heavier. I glanced over at Langston, and the last words out of my mouth were, “I’m sorry, son.”

  James

  62

  If I’d ever had a better day in my life, I damn sure didn’t remember it. I had won my case, and in the process, beaten the legal system’s golden boy, Bradley Hudson, and put his son in jail. Now, the icing on the cake was seeing the EMS staff rushing past with Bradley on a stretcher after his pompous ass had collapsed. With any luck, he’d never see the inside of another courtroom. Now, it was my time to shine. It wasn’t Bradley the press was waiting to speak to. It was me.

  The number of people shaking my hand or patting my shoulder to congratulate me was countless. I had finally made a name for myself. As I approached the crowded press area outside the courtroom, I straightened my tie. Grace was already standing there waiting. I beamed at her with a prideful smile.

  “James, congratulations are in order,” she said mildly.

  “It was a well-deserved victory for our office, don’t you think?” I asked.

  “You put up a good fight and didn’t waver.”

  Her lack of excitement was disappointing, but it didn’t affect my happiness, which only increased when a tall man in a black wool trenchcoat made his way through the crowd.

  “Congratulations, counselor.” Russell Jackal held his hand out to me.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said with pride as we shook hands. “That means a lot.”

  “Well, this was an impressive case, and you did your thing. We’ve got some great plans for you over in our office. You’ve proven that you’ll be a valuable asset to our staff,” he said, then looked over at Grace. “Hello.”

  “Asshole,” was Grace’s response.

  Russell’s smile faded, but the three of us still turned toward the cameras that were pointed at us and pretended to be a united front.

  “You would think you’d be in a better mood, Grace. You do realize your ADA just won a huge case that’s been in the headlines for the past six months, right?” Russell asked.

  “Don’t talk to me,” Grace said, her teeth clenched into the fakest smile I’d ever seen.

  “Well, I was about to say ladies first and allow you to give your remarks,” Russell said.

  “I have nothing to say at this time,” Grace told him. “I’ll let the two of you gloat.”

  “Fine. Time to give the people what they want.” Russell patted me on the back. “Go ahead, James. It’s your moment. Make it count.”

  I walked over to the podium and stood in front of the microphone. The crowd quieted down, and I spoke. “As you all know, today the citizens of New York found Langston Hudson guilty on all charges. This was not an easy case, and our office worked tirelessly over the past few months in order to ensure that we would be successful. I would like to thank the NYPD for their hard work and dedication throughout this process, and the County offices. Because of the teamwork demonstrated, we were able to keep two kilos of heroin off the street. I hope that this case serves as proof that Staten Island DA’s office is fair, and we are not biased against race, socioeconomic status, or any other background. If you are breaking the law, then we will convict. Thank you.”

  “ADA Brown, is it true that Bradley Hudson suffered a heart attack inside the courtroom after losing to you?” one of the reporters yelled.

  “It’s true that Mr. Hudson did have a medical episode and was removed by medical staff. We are hoping he has a speedy recovery,” I said with the best look of concern I could manage to fake.

  “Will there be a sentencing recommendation?” another reported asked.

  “Do you think the judge will be lenient, considering Mr. Hudson is a first-time offender?” another one yelled.

  “That’s all we have for now. Again, thank you for your time,” I said and stepped away from the microphone.

  “Great job,” Russell told me.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Jacqueline approaching. I was tempted to turn and run, but I couldn’t exactly do that in front of all the press. Her eyes were full of anger, and I prayed that she wasn’t about to say anything damaging with all those reporters nearby. Even though she was a smart woman who had more to lose than I did if our recent night of passion got out, she was also a pissed off mother whose son was just put away because of me.

  “Hello, Jacqueline, I—”

  “Stop it. Don’t attempt to be polite and pleasant to me, James, because it’s bullshit and you know it.” She glared at me, then turned toward Russ. “Russell Jackal. I should’ve known your ass had something to do with all of this.”

  “Maybe we should go and talk somewhere a little more private,” I suggested, noticing a few of the reporters looking at us.

  “But you, Grace, I’m totally surprised that you went along with these two bastards. Three young black men are in jail, and one is dead because of something they didn’t even do.” Jacqueline shook her head.

  “Jacqueline, listen, I’m sorry. I offered them a deal, a hell of a deal, and I was open to negotiating.”

  Jacqueline cut her eyes at me.

  Grace took a step closer and said, “I’m truly sorry, Jackie. But if you find anything to prove those boys had nothing to do with that dope, you call me, and I promise, I’ll call the judge and get them out.”

&nbs
p; Jacqueline didn’t respond verbally, but I could see her eyes soften at Grace’s statement. She turned and walked away. Grace looked at Russell and me and shook her head. “I want all your things out of my office by Monday, James.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that, Grace. He’ll be out of there way before then. He’s only moving across the bridge, and we already have a corner office all set up for him,” Russell said.

  “I’m sure you do, asshole.” Grace walked away.

  Michael

  63

  We were huddled in a waiting room at NYU Medical Center while Bradley underwent surgery for several cardiac blockages. The stress of the trial, his unhealthy eating habits, and cigarettes and cigar smoking had been too much for him. Lamont sat in a corner, not really saying much to anyone, while Perk and Desiree sat together on the sofa. At one point, she rested her head on his shoulder while he rubbed her back. Carla made phone calls in between pacing the floor and walking down the hallway to ask for updates. We hadn’t even had time to process and deal with the aftermath of the verdict now that Bradley’s life was on the line.

  “Is he out yet?” Desiree asked when Carla came back from the nurses’ station.

  “No, they’re still working on him,” Carla said.

  “They said about four hours, and it’s been over five.” Desiree sat up on the edge of her seat. “Do you think something happened?”

  “No, Des, if something happened, they would’ve come back and told us.” Perk put his arm around her shoulder. “Surgeries always take longer than they anticipate.”

  Desiree seemed to relax a little. “Yeah, that’s true. I remember when Langston got his tonsils out. It was only supposed to take like an hour, and it took three. Dad was freaking out and threatening to sue the surgeon, the hospital, the anesthesiologist, and even the nursing assistants.”

  “I forgot about that.” Lamont’s laughter surprised all of us. “He had everyone running scared. Lang had every flavor of ice cream on his tray when they brought it to him.”

  “That’s probably why they have us in this fancy waiting room,” Desiree said. “They remember Dad’s rant.”