The System Has Failed

by Ms. Michel Moore

  “One day you and your dick gonna get you kicked off the force!” Jazmine ranted as if she herself weren’t on a mission for the dope-selling dudes she ran with after work. “That was the kid-killing psycho from the west side bullshit!” Damn, now I gotta call Bama Bob back and tell him, then the sergeant. Shit! She clutched the Polaroids in her hands.

  In the meantime, outside, receiving several text messages from Keith, who was furiously waiting for any updates, Bama Bob and his fellas had no choice but to wait it out, even if it meant staying posted across the street all night. Moe Mack was their comrade, and if that meant doing just that, they were all ready to put in the work in his honor.

  * * *

  With the radio blasting the continuous breaking-news updates, Justice tried his best not to pay attention when the driver shook his head in shock over each report in the crime-ridden city he was forced to work in.

  “It makes no kind of sense,” the driver casually remarked.

  “What?” Justice lifted his head from searching through Moe Mack’s various text messages. “You talking to me?”

  “No, I was just talking to myself.” He hardly glanced back over his shoulder at the black youth.

  Realizing they were getting closer to Greedy’s house, Justice dialed her number and got shot straight to voicemail. “Yo, bitch! Pick up the phone,” his voice barked out before he ended the call and immediately placed another. Still hearing Greedy’s musical recording, Justice’s patience was starting to wear thin. “All right, bitch, if ya think I’m playing with you, trust ya mistaken! I’m on my way over there and—” Before he could finish his violent threat, his phone beeped, indicating that he had an incoming call. Double-checking the caller ID, he saw it was Greedy.

  “Hello,” she managed to quickly get out before the cursing began.

  “Is you fucking nuts or what? I know ya seen the first time I called ya ass!” Justice was on the warpath as the cab driver turned up the radio in an attempt to drown him out.

  “Dang, boy, I was in the bathroom. Is that all right with you?”

  “Who the fuck you getting smart with? Don’t get that ass smacked! Tonight ain’t the night!”

  “Nobody, I was just saying,” the young mother replied, also not in the mood for hearing his bullshit. “Stop tripping!”

  “Anyway, I’m about to fall through there, so make sure all them bad-ass bastards of yours is in the bed! You understand me? I need to figure some shit out!”

  “Justice, all the kids is already asleep. But my cousin is spending the night over here. Me and him is chilling smoking a blunt.”

  “What you say?”

  “Come on, Justice, don’t trip!”

  “Listen, I done had a fucked-up day and ain’t in the mood for no more dumb shit. Send that li’l sissy packing. Plus, why your stupid ass over there pregnant and smoking anyhow? You unfit as hell!”

  “First of all, Cuzzo already here chilling, I told you. And second, why is you tripping on me smoking? It ain’t even that serious. Don’t let me find out your hardcore ass really give a shit about this baby.” She rubbed her stomach while blowing smoke up into the air.

  “Damn, bitch, don’t play yourself! That’s your baby, not mine!” Justice had just about enough of her flip mouth. “Just clear the crib out! Shitttt, you act like y’all two over there banging. Now unless that fool ready to stand tall when I get there, send his fuck-boy ass on his way!”

  “Boy, bye! It’s too late for him to go home now.” Greedy lit another blunt, hoping Justice’s threats were just that: threats. “I’ll just see you whenever you get here! And just for the record, it’s your baby too!”

  Hanging up the phone, Greedy was lost. She had no idea the guy who’d been her fuck buddy on and off over the past year had snapped, her new baby daddy was one of the many killers the entire Detroit Police Department was so desperately searching for, or that her young, innocent homosexual cousin would soon be another one of his victims by sunrise.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Unfortunately, as the cab driver drove down the long city blocks, each broken-out streetlight made it more difficult for him to see the road. If it weren’t for the bright, illuminated neon signs that read LIQUOR, LOTTERY, or BEER AND WINE every other corner, Detroit would’ve been pitch-black in some parts. These people in Detroit won’t be happy until they’ve all killed each other. They behave like animals. The driver was lost in his thoughts, trying to get to his destination as soon as possible and back to the casino. They tear up and destroy everything they touch. Detroiters are poison to their own neighbors, thugs, thieves, crackheads, bums, and hooligans. Now listen to this unfortunate tragedy.

  With the radio giving details of each suspected culprit in crime after crime, the one that proved to be the most heinous finally made its way to the airwaves. When Justice heard the news announcer mention NayNay’s street and that two kids had been found murdered, he knew that not only were Bama Bob and ’em looking for him, but the police were also.

  Damn, shit’s getting tight. I gotta make a move. He hoped the cops didn’t have a complete description of him, let alone a name. I need to get out of Detroit somehow, someway. Holding his and Moe Mack’s constantly vibrating cell phones in his hand, Justice had to get himself a drink and quick. “Yo, my manz, pull over at the next store you see,” he ordered up toward the front like he was in a limo. “And make sure they sell liquor in that motherfucker, ya feel me?”

  “I already told you I have to get back to the other side of town. I cannot do.”

  “It ain’t gonna take you but five minutes, damn!” Justice leaned up, banging his palm on the partition as he insisted the driver pull over. “There go a liquor store over there near them hoes! Now pull the fuck over. I need to get a taste!”

  Demanding an extra ten-dollar deposit, the driver finally pulled over, parking next to the bus stop where several females were standing. Justice grabbed the handle, swinging the rear door open. Stepping out and onto the curb, his animal instinct took over as he approached the girl who he thought was the prettiest of the pack.

  “What’s up with you, sexy?” He eased over in her personal space. “Why you out here so late in these Detroit streets?”

  “Excuse you.” She leaned back, holding on tightly to her bootleg Coach purse considering the rough physical appearance of Justice. “Do you mind? I’m not interested in holding any conversations with strangers.”

  “Why you gotta be acting all stuck-up and shit? A guy only trying to be nice to your high-yellow ass!”

  “Okay, look.” Her eyes shot daggers as she turned up her nose to block the strong smell of hot liquor that was blowing out of Justice’s mouth. “I got a man, all right? And trust, even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t wanna bang with you. So kick rocks and go find a stray alley rat that likes your kind!”

  Before Justice could get a chance to verbally respond or at least smack the cow shit fire out the tramp, he heard the loud, annoying sounds of the cab driver blowing his horn then yelling out his open window. “Hurry up in store! You hurry up, or I leave!”

  What the fuck? Justice, caught in his emotions, stared over at the cab then back at the smart-mouth female who was now laughing. “All of y’all got me fucked up! Do you know who the fuck I am?” His chest stuck out as he marched back over toward the cab without even bothering to go inside of the store for that drink he was so anxious to get. The closer he got, he heard the radio disc jockey giving another breaking-news alert. This time, he gave a general description over the airwaves of the child killer, including what he was last seen wearing.

  “Once again, if you see the man who matches this description, do not try to apprehend him yourself. Be advised he is considered armed and dangerous.”

  Damn! How in the fuck they know what a nigga got on his back? Justice paused, glancing down at his shirt, then locked eyes with the taxi driver.

  It took all of five seconds for the driver to put two and two together, realizing his unruly passenge
r was the coldhearted lunatic most of Detroit would grow to hate by daybreak.

  “You go away from this cab now! Take your money! Take it! I don’t want trouble!” Throwing the cash onto the pavement, the terrified man with a family at home rushed in an effort to manually roll up the cab’s window and pull off. Violently, he was stopped by the brutal force of Justice’s already-battered fist socking him in the jaw once, then twice in the temple. His head bobbed to the side as saliva flew out of his mouth, followed by a thick stream of blood that splattered across the dashboard and onto the inside of the windshield.

  “No, no, please, please!” In excruciating pain, the man begged for his life to be spared while attempting to defend himself against Justice’s vicious, unwarranted attack.

  Taking notice that he was now the center of attention, a glory-hound Justice grinned. He was accustomed to being shunned and rejected by most women, starting with his own mother the day of his birth. He wickedly laughed while the group of girls with their cell phones glued to their ears looked on. Despite knowing that at least one, if not all, called the police on his black ass, the melee intensified, with him not missing a single beat.

  “Don’t nobody tell me what the fuck to do! Nobody! I’m grown around these parts! NFL, Niggas From Linwood, all day and all night!” Justice shouted as the long list of crimes he’d committed in less than twenty-four hours continued to grow. “I run this!” Leaning his upper body inside the cab, his hands wrapped around the throat of the now-defenseless man who’d lost all hope of ever seeing his wife and four small children again. Beating the innocent cab driver was not enough satisfaction for Justice. He callously snatched the man’s body out through the open window of the cab before kicking him in his face then in the rear of his head, causing his turban to unwrap. “Foreign-ass immigrant motherfuckers coming over here! Y’all ain’t running shit! Especially in Detroit!”

  With police sirens not too far away, Justice opened the cab door, jumping inside. Before he could pull off, the strong-willed driver made one final attempt to save his leased taxi from becoming another stolen car statistic in the Motor City. Raising his sore, beaten arm, he held the rusty bottom of the automobile’s door.

  “Please don’t,” the man managed to say before an evil-minded Justice slammed the door shut, smashing his right hand against the taxi’s steel frame, making the entire car rock.

  “Noooooo!”

  “Fuck you and anybody who looks like you!”

  Throwing the cab into gear, Justice then pushed his foot down on the gas pedal, ripping the driver’s fingertips from his hand. If that in itself weren’t enough brutality for the growing group of shocked spectators to witness, as the cab’s wheels turned, the screaming man’s religiously worn purple turban was now tangled in the tires, dragging him along the pothole-filled streets for four or five good yards until his bloodied body broke free.

  Almost losing control of the vehicle, Justice continued to show no remorse for his violent acts as the yellow cab jumped the concrete curb. He purposely barreled into the one female, killing her instantly. Fuck you, that tramp NayNay, the high-post-acting chick who gave me a ride, and my ho-ass mother! All you bitches ain’t shit! Justice’s mind was racing nearly as fast as the taxi, which now had only one working headlight. He regained control, skirting off into the darkness of Detroit. Greedy best have her shit correct, too, ’cause if she don’t, her ass gonna be next to see what’s ready good! I’m tired of motherfuckers talking and acting reckless! I don’t owe the streets. They owe me!

  Chapter Thirty

  “There are dead bodies turning up left and right in each section of the entire freaking city. We’ve got murders happening damn near every hour on the hour! What in the hell are you and your men doing in the way of controlling this bullshit? Can you tell me that? Please!” The mayor of Detroit was at the end of his rope, losing patience in the late-night conversation he was having with his chief of police.

  “Channels two, four, and seven are on my back for comments. Those damn hypocritical religious ministers of every faith keep flooding the phone lines demanding answers. And now that fucking CNN is calling!” He banged his fist on the cherry-oak desk in the office he’d been confined to since the early morning hours trying to get a grip on the high-profile, chaotic town he was in charge of.

  “Don’t worry, sir, we have every available man on duty working double shifts,” the chief promised, driving past Tiger Stadium with sirens blasting and lights flashing. “The description of the suspect in the multiple-victim homicide has been just sent to the media. And we’re making headway on some of the other murders, but you gotta know, Mr. Mayor, as soon as we get a decent hold of one crime scene, another one is jumping off. It’s as if something is in the water!” he tried to joke to ease the tension.

  “Look, ain’t nothing funny! I don’t wanna hear that ‘something in the water’ bullshit, you understand? I want some arrests made. I need some goddamn faces of criminals in shackles to flash across these television screens and in Sunday’s paper to show everybody we mean business in Detroit when it comes to crime!” Frustrated, he stood up, pacing the floor as his loosened tie swung from side to side. “I got a lot of major deals hanging in the balance. If those white, rich motherfuckers think I’m all right with having the highest homicide rate in the damn United States, including a psycho who murdered two innocent kids like that, their asses definitely won’t do business!”

  “I understand, sir! I’m on it, Mr. Mayor.”

  Ending the dreaded call from his boss, the chief finally arrived to console the family of a teenage female who’d just been deliberately rammed into the side of a liquor store after some lunatic carjacked a taxi cab, also killing the immigrant driver. Grabbing his hat off the passenger seat, exhausted, he prepared himself to give the same speech to the victim’s family he’d given countless times throughout the day.

  * * *

  Abandoning the stolen, damaged taxi a number of blocks over from Greedy’s house, Justice, still feeling no pain, took off on foot. Creeping throughout the back alleyways, cutting across several vacant lots, then taking a shortcut that only nearby residents were aware of, he hit Greedy’s front door, drenched in sweat, but without further incident.

  “Yo, Greedy.” He banged on the torn screen once or twice before she flung the wooden door open, big belly and all, blunt hanging from her lips.

  “Be quiet before you wake them up.” Shushing Justice, she motioned toward the back room where her kids were fast asleep. “And damn, what happened to you? You look like death!”

  “Don’t worry about all that! And get the fuck out of my way before I kick that baby out of your dumb ass!” He shoved by, making his way into the air-conditioned living room. Inside, he found Cuzzo still there, chilling watching music videos with his perfectly manicured feet resting up on the glass coffee table.

  “Hey, Justice.” Cuzzo waved his hand like he was a true diva. “How you doing?” He mimicked Wendy Williams.

  “Damn, Greedy! Damn!” Justice turned back to face her as his upper lip curled. “Didn’t I tell your stankin’ ass to put this mixed-up faggot out before the fuck I got here? Is you deaf?”

  Cuzzo was all of five feet four, weighing barely 120 pounds naked in his thong. Wearing his hair in a shoulder-length streaked-blond bob since the age fourteen, and wearing eyeliner since twelve, the homosexual, frail teen was used to being called everything except a child of God. So Justice’s evil insults rolled off his back like it was nothing. Besides, he secretly had a crush on him. “Oh, please. Boy, bye! This here my cousin’s house! How you look coming over here, calling shots whenever you wanna get your little dick wet?”

  “Nigga, what?” Justice lunged at him no sooner the last words escaped Cuzzo’s candy-apple red lips.

  “Stop! Stop! Damn!” Greedy quickly intervened, shielding her cousin, preventing him from getting a beat down. “Get back, Justice! You bugging!”

  Bringing extra tension to the situation, two of Gr
eedy’s older children were now wide awake, crying, begging for Justice not to hit their mother and to leave their favorite older cousin alone.

  Suffering the once-again annoying sounds of sobbing ghetto kids gone wild, Justice fought back the strong urge to give Greedy’s children the same lethal Kool-Aid/ rat poison mixture that’d tragically ended NayNay’s young nephews’ innocent lives.

  “All right, all right, shit!” He snatched his forearm back from Cuzzo’s throat, shrugging Greedy’s hands off him. “Yo, I’m good! I’m good!”

  Almost hysterical, Cuzzo had huge crocodile tears flowing down his face. Slowly rubbing the sore rainbow-colored butterfly tattooed on his neck, rolling his eyes, he struggled to speak. “You ain’t right! That shit is foul as hell. I ain’t even do nothing to you!” he protested, screaming like a woman instead of bossing up like a man. “You wrong! You wrong! You wrong!”

  Feeling the vibration of his cell phone ringing, Justice didn’t react to Cuzzo’s female tendencies and emotional breakdown. Instead, reaching in his pocket, he read another threatening text message from Bama Bob: Know u left da club. Still on dat azz! After reading the text, Justice had to seriously reflect on what his next move would be if he hoped to avoid the ho-ass police, Bama Bob, and all’em and get the hell out of Detroit. Shit, I need to rest. I just need to shut my eyes for a few minutes and think.

  Greedy, taking notice that Justice thankfully had calmed down, took the opportunity to soothe her children’s cries, putting them back in the bed. She left her young cousin sitting on the couch pouting. Thinking quickly, Justice realized that at this point Greedy was his only ally. But Cuzzo had to get the fuck on, period. He wasn’t a fool. He’d seen how Cuzzo’s gay ass used to be sizing him up like chick. So for once, tonight, he decided to use that to his advantage.