The System Has Failed

by Ms. Michel Moore

  Momentary having a laugh at Greedy’s expense, they were soon interrupted by Jazmine’s radio blasting a report of a deceased body discovered in a vacant house less than a quarter of a mile from where they were. Thinking it would be in their best interest to at least swing by the crime scene and check in with her homicide buddy, Jazmine headed in that direction. Keith took that as the perfect opportunity to have Bama Bob meet up with them and take him back to his car. He’d had just about enough of Cree’s baby mama’s confused, backward ass and her juvenile way of talking.

  * * *

  Greedy’s hands were full of plastic bags containing all the groceries she needed to prepare a breakfast fit for a king, not to mention the Sunday paper, which housed all the latest sales fliers. Deciding not to use one of the jitneys that always hung around trying to hustle for a couple of dollars while getting their old-school flirt on, she enjoyed the morning’s clear blue sky. Not especially anxious to get back to her four kids, even though Justice was there in her bed, hopefully dreaming about her, Greedy decided to be nosy. Watching a swarm of police cars race by and stop a few blocks over, she headed in that direction. With all the empty lots in Detroit, a person could easily stand on one street and tell a nigga what they were doing damn near six blocks away.

  Walking through the beaten-down dirt path the local residents had made, Greedy found herself standing amid a quickly growing crowd of early morning onlookers who weren’t too high, drunk, or just plain fucked up from the previous night to be awake.

  “Wrap that tape all the way around and secure the perimeter,” demanded one officer who seemed to be in charge. He was wearing a suit and a tie, and his eyes were weak in appearance, as if he hadn’t slept in days. “And, all you people, please step back. Please.”

  Whispers from neighbors, speculating about the identity of who was lying dead in the condemned house or who they wanted it to be, filled the air. Some wished it was the boy who broke their windows. Another hoped the local car thief was dead, and others wished it was one of their own drug-addicted family members.

  As the gossip traveled from ear to ear, Greedy placed her bags all onto one forearm as she took her cell off her hip, powering it back on. Damn, let me call Cuzzo and see if he’s up yet! I gotta tell him about Cree’s bitch before I get home. Damn voicemail! Greedy slid her phone back on her hip as a dark SUV swerved up with a female jumping out like she was the shit. Oh, she one of those hoes who wishes they was a man! Them police bitches kill me, wanting to be all tough! Greedy hunched her shoulders as the female pulled her badge out so the other cops could recognize her as she ducked underneath the bright yellow crime tape.

  Just as she’d had enough of standing around, waiting for the answer to the million-dollar question, the officer in charge took out his notepad and started talking to the cop who was driving the truck. Loving to be in the next person’s personal business, Greedy eased over near the semi-private conversation and ear hustled.

  “Yeah, he was discovered by those guys over there. They say they were looking for bottles, but from the way they’re dressed, we know they’re scrappers.”

  “I just swung by to check in. I know you already went beyond the call of duty, but have you heard anything else?” Jazmine batted her eyes at the detective, hoping he’d give her more hush-hush information on his search for Justice Richards, who’d been justifiably labeled the Kid Killer.

  “Sorry, babe, it ain’t nothing new yet. The ATF and DEA is all on the chief’s back, so you know he’s on mine!”

  “Well, lunch is on me next week when shit calms down in the city. How about that?”

  “I’ll have to take you up on that.” The detective perked up. “But first, now I gotta deal with this young homo who’s up in there stuffed behind a couch.” He motioned to the abandoned house behind them. “Our victim got blond streaks and painted toenails. Shit, all my men thought he was a she when we first arrived!”

  Jazmine laughed at her colleague’s animated description of the deceased, as one of the inquisitive neighbors loudly butted in.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Here, take a few more dollars for that baby of yours. I’m about to bounce.” Keith handed Angie a small stack of twenties to go with the dough he’d given her earlier, and he resumed his conversation. “Yeah, man, come a few blocks over from where y’all at and you should see Jazmine’s truck,” Keith instructed Bama Bob. “Just fall back, and when she’s through checking some shit out we’ll meet you arou—”

  Before Keith could end his sentence, Angie leaned over from the back seat, screaming in his ear and tapping him on his shoulder blade. “Oh, my God! Oh, my God! That’s that ho! Right there! Right fucking there! That’s the bitch! That’s her!”

  Keith sat up from his gangster lean position so he could get a better look at who Angie was pointing at. “Look, baby doll, ain’t no more bread all right?” He stopped what he thought was a con game before it got started. “I’m done with this dry-run nonsense!”

  Throwing the money on the front seat and on the floor of the truck, Cree’s baby mother took offense. “Don’t nobody want your money,” she shrieked, holding her stomach. “I’m telling you that’s that bitch Greedy standing right over there next to ol’ girl!”

  Reaching over in the middle console, Keith removed the minute throwaway cell, pushing the last number dialed, which was Greedy’s. After two or three rings the female who was now talking to one of the officers took her cell off her hip, shooting the incoming call to voicemail.

  “Aw hell naw!” Keith fought not to get out the truck and knock Greedy’s head off her body if she didn’t take them to Justice, but considering all of Detroit’s finest standing around, he opted to call Jazmine and put her up on game.

  Overhearing what she thought had to be a big mistake; Greedy interrupted the plainclothes policeman and the female cop he was talking to. “Excuse me.” Her breathing intensified, and her stomach turned in knots. “I just heard you say there was a young guy inside of that house, with nail polish on his toes. Is that what you said?”

  Embarrassed that the pregnant woman had heard his disrespectful, off-hand comments about the deceased, he tried cleaning it up. “Listen, it’s true. There is a young man inside the home. Would you happen to have any information that might help us to identify him?” He knew it was a long shot. She was probably no more than a nosy neighbor trying to have something to gossip about later when she stood in a long line to play her lottery numbers or return a bag of bottles to the store to buy herself a beer. However, he humored her just the same, pulling Greedy over to the side away from the crowd. “The poor young man didn’t have any ID on him. So right now he’s a John Doe.”

  Shaking like a heroin addict needing a fix, Greedy informed the detective she thought, from what he’d just said to the other officer, referring to Jazmine, that the body in the old weed spot might’ve been that of her younger cousin. “Did I hear you tell her the guy inside looked like he was a girl when you first saw him?”

  “Yes, we did think that, although there was extreme trauma to the overall facial area.” He looked down at his notepad, taking out his pencil. “What did you say your name was?”

  Ignoring his question and answering it with a question of her own, Greedy started to panic and hyperventilate. “Oh, my God! Does the guy have white shorts on?” She thought back to what Cuzzo was wearing. “And blue and white flip-flops with one of them stupid-ass blue flowers on them?”

  Jazmine could tell by the expression on her coworkers face, that more than likely, the pregnant girl’s general description was fitting that of what he had written down in his notes concerning the deceased. “Listen,” Jazmine interjected, trying to ease the tense situation. “You need to calm down, and let’s see what else you can remember about the last time you saw your friend.”

  “You mean my cousin,” Greedy corrected her, holding the grocery bags in her arms close. Her hands quivered trying once again to call Cuzzo’s cell phone. She prayed t
hat he’d answer.

  “Okay, sorry about that.” Jazmine reassuringly touched her arm, seeing she was pregnant as well as distraught. “Cousin.”

  The detective asked her if her cousin had any special birthmarks or maybe tattoos, ear piercings, or permanents scars. “Can you think right now, or do you need to have a seat in the back of one of the squad cars until you catch your breath?”

  With the neighbors watching Greedy, who they all knew, start to talk louder, they focused all their attention on her. She was now on display and would be on the top of the gossip list for the evening. “No, I’m good! I’m good!” Greedy rocked from side to side, tapping her foot. “My cousin has a tattoo of a big-ass butterfly on the left side of his neck with the words ‘Sexy Bitch’ written inside of it. It can’t be! It can’t be! No, no, no!”

  “Okay, sit tight,” the detective begged as Greedy’s cell rang and she shot the call to voicemail. “I’ll be right back okay? And calm down. It might not even be him, all right? Just let me check things out.”

  Jazmine tried making casual conversation with the pregnant girl as the officer disappeared inside the house to compare the information he’d just been provided with. “When is your baby due?” After finding out the date from the frantic, stricken female, Jazmine stepped a few feet over as her cell rang. “Hey, Keith, I’m almost done here!” With the noise from the crowd growing louder, Jazmine stuck one finger in her ear, not sure what she just heard him announce. “Say what? Where? Right there? The one I was just talking to?” Immediately returning to the crying female’s side to verify Keith’s claim, Jazmine was unfortunately met with the detective offering the girl the sad, devastating news.

  “I’m so sorry, miss, but can you come with me over to the car?” The detective held her arm, trying to offer support. “Are you a blood relative by chance? I need to find out what your cousin’s government-issued name is.”

  “For what?” Greedy screamed out, having watched enough episodes of Law & Order to figure out what was going to be said next. “I need to go inside that house! I need to go inside! Cuzzo! Cuzzo!” She ripped away from him, trying relentlessly to break through the yellow tape that was separating her from seeing the dead corpse she now knew was family. “Please! Please!” She struggled as Jazmine cruelly yanked her back, having her own selfish, private agenda with the girl, knowing she was the missing link in finding Justice.

  The detectives, along with the neighbors, were stunned the pregnant female had so much strength. Greedy was going berserk, swinging her arms. Not caring, she let the groceries fall to the concrete pavement, surely breaking the newly purchased eggs in one bag.

  “Calm down! Wait, wait, please!” the detective coaxed. “We need your help. When was the last time you saw your cousin alive? Can you tell me that?”

  Just then the Sunday edition of the Detroit News fell out of one of Greedy’s other bags. When it landed, opening up, the huge bold headline along with a grayscale mug shot immediately brought Greedy back to her senses and reminded her of the last person who was with Cuzzo: SUSPECT SOUGHT IN KID KILLER FAMILY MASSACRE.

  “Oh . . . my . . . fucking . . . God!” Greedy’s pain-filled ear-piercing screams could be heard blocks away. “My kids! My kids!” Recognizing the man’s picture on the front page as Justice, who was back at her house, alone, unsupervised, with her children, she broke out, hitting the lots.

  Signaling for Keith to follow, Jazmine instinctively wasted no time running right behind on Greedy’s heels. “Hold up! Hold up!” she repeated, avoiding broken glass, garbage, and old tires. “Slow your roll! I need to ask you something!”

  Not listening to anything the plainclothes police officer had to say, Greedy refused to let her protruding belly slow her down from reaching her four children before something happened to them. It can’t be true! It can’t! It can’t! Not Justice! How could he?

  Around the corner, two gravel-filled lots to the left and lastly one burnt house to the right, three houses from the dead end, like a puzzle or a maze Jazmine now understood how a slew of criminals could dip and disappear in their own neighborhood if they knew all the shortcuts. Damn this shit is crazy! Detroit is fucked up!

  Nearing her house, Greedy felt like she was close to passing out in the middle of the street, but she kept it moving. Running up the toy-scattered pavement, Greedy got up on the porch, taking two stairs at a time and twisting her ankle in the process. Not feeling any pain, Greedy yanked open the raggedy screen door and tried turning the knob on the main door. Fuck! It’s locked. Hearing the unmistakable sounds of cartoons from the television blaring through the door, the panicked mother banged with one hand, searching for her house keys with the other. Please let my kids be okay! Please!

  Snagging her pants on one of the fenceless poles that Angie described earlier, Jazmine sprinted up the stairs and was posted right behind Greedy as she finally found the key, putting it in the dead bolt cylinder, turning the knob. Shit! I wish at least I had my vest on! With her gun out and one already up top, the young task force officer who was trained to kill cautiously waited.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Wondering what in the hell was going on and what exactly Jazmine had said to Greedy to make her take off running like that made Keith jump over to the driver’s seat as soon as he saw Jazmine’s signal. Throwing the truck in reverse and trying to navigate through the narrow streets and all the news trucks and reporters that were just showing up, he and Angie finally bent a few corners. Also confused, Bama Bob, who had just pulled up and parked right behind Keith, was now also in pursuit, playing follow the leader.

  “Yeah, y’all. Get ready for some bullshit to pop! It’s on!” He placed a call to Bama Bob as he steered Jazmine’s overpriced truck.

  Recklessly, Keith drove down one-way streets and ran into several dead-end blocks trying to keep up with the two running females. Easily getting turned around, luckily Bama Bob spotted Jazmine cut across an alley, and they were seemingly back on point in the chase.

  Following the detective’s direct orders to bring the fleeing pregnant female back for questioning and back up his girl, Jazmine, a police squad car was also struggling, doing the same thing Keith and Bama Bob were attempting: trying to figure out where their fellow officer and the pregnant ghetto track star had gone. As the uniformed cops watched the two trucks break traffic law after traffic law, they let it go because their main priority was finding not only the mystery female but protecting one of their own: Jazmine.

  Shoving the door with the force of five grown men, Greedy rushed inside the noisy home. Panting, out of breath, she rested her hand on the wall, counting her children, who seemed undisturbed by the door flying open or the female complete stranger who was standing behind their mother with a gun in her hand.

  “One, two, three.” Her eyes searched the entire room, looking for her oldest. “One, two, three.” Greedy did a head count again as Jazmine stood guard with her department-issued weapon drawn.

  “How many kids you got?” Jazmine’s trigger finger itched, hoping Justice was somewhere in the house hiding so she could put something hot in his ass for murdering Moe Mack.

  Praying her baby was just fixing herself or the younger kids a bowl of cereal like she often did when Greedy was passed out drunk, gone partying, or preoccupied in the rear bedroom with a “special friend,” she went in the kitchen. Not getting her prayers answered, Greedy wobbled back through the kitchen door with a gigantic butcher knife clenched in her fist. “Four. I got four.”

  Bending down, taking matters in her own hands, Jazmine whispered to the kids, sensing some real gangster shit was about to jump off. “Hey, y’all, where is your big sister at?”

  “Yeah.” Greedy demanded answers clenching the wood handle tightly. Her lip curled. “Where’s Eboni?”

  “We sorry, Mommy! We sorry!” the next two oldest whined as tears started to flow. “We didn’t mean to make noise to wake him up, but the TV was so funny, and we was laughing too loud.”


  “Where the fuck is your sister?” Greedy snatched the child up, shaking her by the arm. “Where is she? Huh? Where is she?”

  “He said if Eboni went back there he wouldn’t spank us,” the innocent, small child cried, pointing toward Greedy’s bedroom, “and we could keep watching our shows.”

  Experiencing sharp cramping in her side after listening to what her child had just revealed, Greedy held her belly, racing down the hallway in spite of her fast-swelling ankle. Wasting no time kicking her bedroom door almost off the hinges, the oftentimes neglectful mother was furious. Oh, hell naw! “Get your motherfucking hands off my daughter! Nigger, is you crazy or what?” Greedy couldn’t believe her eyes and what they were seeing. The unfit single parent smoked weed around her kids, cursed around them, and even took them with her to shoplift from time to time, but what see was faced with now made the expectant mother of four shake with immeasurable rage. “Come over here, Eboni! Get over here right now! Hurry up!”

  Barely eight years of age, Greedy’s oldest little girl was perched down on her knees at the edge of the bed with Justice’s rock-hard dick in her mouth, sucking him off like she’d been doing it for years.

  With streams of gigantic tears flowing down her face, Eboni froze in fear, trying to explain, as if she were to blame for what was going on. “I’m sorry, Mommy!” She sniffled, still attempting to hold Justice’s swollen manhood in her tiny hands. “We didn’t mean to make any noise to wake him up! I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Don’t be mad! Mommy, he promised he wouldn’t leave you! He promised!”

  Embarrassed and ashamed of what she was hearing, Greedy took hold of Eboni’s flowered pajama shirt, taking her out of harm’s way as she swung the huge butcher knife at an unremorseful Justice. Cocky, he didn’t flinch or even move a muscle to get out of Greedy’s way and what she intended doing. “You grimy-ass nigga! I trusted your punk ass! You ain’t shit! Nigga, I’m gonna kill you! That’s my baby, you fucking child molester!”