Abuse of Discretion

by Pamela Samuels Young

  One of the staff arrives to escort Graylin back to his unit and Jenny and I head for our cars, which are parked behind each other on Eastlake Avenue.

  Jenny gets into her car, then abruptly jumps out and marches up to me.

  “Please don’t do that again.” Her lips are twisted up like a pretzel.

  “Do what again?”

  “You told Graylin everything’s going to be fine and that he’s going home tomorrow. We don’t know that for sure. You can’t keep saying stuff just to make him feel good.”

  “I’m sorry. It kind of slipped out. But based on the facts, Graylin should—”

  “That’s the operative word, should. You can’t make promises to a child client. They take you at your word and when you can’t deliver, it destroys their trust. If you want to stay on this defense team, then stop undercutting me.”

  Before I can respond, Jenny struts back to her car and screeches off.

  CHAPTER 28

  The Shepherd

  I’m sitting in the middle of my bunk in the lotus position, my eyes closed, taking in long deep breaths. I need a sense of calm to come to terms with the ultimate disrespect from Dre Thomas. To walk into my establishment and threaten me warrants immediate and serious action.

  I meditate for upwards of thirty minutes before opening my eyes and coming back to my surroundings.

  It’s another hour before Old School shows up to serve as my lookout. Willie picks up on the second ring.

  “I’ve had a chance to think things through,” I say. “I like your idea about the new project.”

  “So we’re going forward?” Willie asks.

  I pause. Snatching a child is one thing, but kidnapping an adult—a lawyer no less—could present a whole host of problems. And I don’t have total trust in Willie. He’s the type of man who’d do anything for a buck. That means somebody else could lure him away for a buck more. But for the time being, Willie’s all I’ve got.

  “Not yet,” I say. “I want to send a message first. A strong one.”

  “Okay, okay. I got it.”

  Our first salvo is all about intimidation. Mental anguish can sometimes be more menacing than a physical attack. I still remember the way Dre Thomas tore up the streets searching for his niece. I want him and his woman so spooked they can’t function.

  “I want to let them know who they’re dealing with.”

  I hope Willie truly understands what I want him to do.

  “I got you, boss.”

  I hate the man’s slip-ups. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

  “Take your time with this thing. Make your point loud and clear. No more mistakes.”

  As I hang up, another idea comes to mind. Simply terrorizing Angela Evans isn’t good enough. After we play with her head a bit, I’ll have Willie find somebody to rape her.

  CHAPTER 29

  Graylin

  It’s dinnertime, but I’m not hungry. I stare at my hamburger and wish I was home. I miss my granny’s cooking, especially her fried chicken.

  “You too good to eat, Smart Boy?”

  Tyke is sitting down across from me. I don’t look up and just keep ignoring him like I’ve been doing.

  “I’m talkin’ to you, Smart Boy.”

  I didn’t know I had a nickname, but I kinda of like it. Tyke needs to leave me alone. I have a headache and my stomach hurts because I’m nervous about going to court tomorrow.

  “Well, I ain’t talking to you, Dumb Boy.”

  “Whoa!” all the other boys exclaim at once.

  I’ve just embarrassed Tyke, but I don’t care. I have too many other problems to worry about. Besides, Tyke can’t do anything to me with Mr. Dennison so close by. That makes me feel even bolder.

  “Dude, do you know who I am?” Tyke’s face twists with rage.

  “I’m not messing with you. So don’t mess with me.”

  I take a bite of my hamburger just as Tyke hurls his milk carton across the table. The corner of the carton hits me below my right eye. The whole right side of my face goes numb. When I press my hand to my cheek and see a spot of blood on my finger, I explode.

  Diving across the table, I start pounding Tyke in the face with a force I didn’t know I had.

  Mr. Dennison snatches me by my sweatshirt and pulls me away while another man grabs Tyke. I break free and jump on top of Tyke. I’m sitting on his chest now, pounding him in the face with both fists. He screams like a girl and tries to cover his face.

  It takes both Mr. Dennison and Mr. Morris to pull me off of him. I’m still crying and swinging at the air as they drag me to the opposite side of the day room.

  “I didn’t even do anything to him and he threw his milk at me and tried to put my eye out!” I sob.

  “I didn’t do nothin’ to him,” Tyke yells from the floor. “He just jumped up and started wailin’ on me. I swear!”

  “Don’t matter who threw the first punch,” Mr. Dennison barks. “You know the rules. No fighting. Both of you are in big trouble!”

  CHAPTER 30

  Angela

  Jenny is already at the courthouse when I arrive the next morning. We haven’t spoken since her little hissy fit yesterday. She greets me with such a gigantic smile I’m beginning to think she might be bipolar.

  “You look awful happy,” I say as I step into the attorney meeting room.

  “That’s because I just finished reading this.” Jenny dangles a document in the air. “The detention report recommends that Graylin go home!”

  “Thank God.” Jenny hands it to me and I start reading it.

  “Graylin should be here any minute,” she says.

  The negative residue from our tiff needs to be addressed. If we’re going to handle this case successfully, we need to get along. I decide to eat crow for Graylin’s sake.

  “Hey, Jenny,” I begin, “I wanted to say that I’m sorry about—”

  She flashes me her palm. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

  I don’t like her dismissiveness and I’m about to tell her as much when the door opens and a sheriff’s deputy shows Graylin into the room.

  “Oh my God!” I run over and cup Graylin’s face. “What happened to you?” His right eye is almost swollen shut and there’s a long, red gash underneath it.

  “This boy named Tyke threw a carton of milk at me. But I got him good. He won’t be messing with me again.”

  The door opens and Gus enters the room. When his eyes land on Graylin, he cringes. “What in the hell happened to your face?”

  Graylin hurls his arms around his dad. “This bully started messing with me for nothing.”

  “This is not good,” Jenny says. “The detention report recommends sending you home. But it was obviously completed before the fight. This could change things.”

  “That’s not fair!” Graylin whines. “Tyke was the one messing with me. I was only defending myself.”

  “The fact that somebody nearly put his eye out shows we need to get him the hell out of here for his own safety,” Gus says.

  “I need you to step outside,” Jenny says to Gus. “We need to find out what happened so we’re not hit with any surprises.”

  “He just needs to tell the truth,” Gus says. “He—”

  “I need you to step outside,” Jenny says firmly.

  “Please, Gus,” I press, “we don’t have a lot of time.”

  He sulks out like an angry kid.

  As Graylin starts talking, Jenny takes furious notes. “That prosecutor is going to bring up the fight and say some bad things about you,” she tells him. “I want you to try as hard as you can not to get upset at anything he says. And don’t say a word unless I ask you to speak, okay?”

  Graylin nods.

  Jenny squeezes his shoulder.
“I need you to be strong. Let’s go in there and win, okay?”

  “Okay.” Graylin rubs his good eye with the heel of his hand just as a deputy knocks on the door to tell us his case is being called.

  Juvenile court operates in a more casual atmosphere than adult court. In this one, the judge sits on an elevated bench, next to the witness box. There’s no jury box and the court reporter sits below the bench facing the judge.

  The three of us take seats at the defense table with Graylin in the middle. Gus and Dre are on the back row, along the wall. A well-dressed black couple is seated on the opposite side of the courtroom. Juvenile proceedings are closed to the public. They must be the girl’s parents.

  Jenny reads my mind. She leans over to whisper into my ear. “That’s not a good sign.”

  I take a peek at the woman, who boldly scowls back at me. The man is busy with his cell phone.

  When a GQ-looking Hispanic man carrying a thick stack of folders walks in, Jenny rises and approaches him.

  “I’m Jenny Ungerman, Graylin Alexander’s attorney. I left a couple of messages for you. Any idea when we can get a copy of the picture and the note? We’d also like to examine Graylin’s phone.”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. Crazy schedule,” Miguel Martinez says. “I should have the picture and note to you by the end of the week. I’ll need more time with the phone. We sent it to an outside firm to take a look at it.”

  He’s about to sit down when he notices Graylin’s face. His expression tells me it’s as much of a surprise to him as it was to us.

  “I’m concerned that they’re doing outside analysis on the phone,” Jenny says, when she sits back down. “The D.A.’s Office doesn’t spend that kind of money on a case like this. Something’s up.”

  The bailiff calls the courtroom to order and everyone stands as Judge Jaynie Miller enters from a side door and takes the bench. “Good morning, everyone!”

  I’ve never seen a judge walk into court with such a cheerful disposition. The judge looks so happy I almost expect her to start waving like she’s on a parade float. I guess she’s thrilled to have escaped from corporate America. Her short brown hair is lightly sprinkled with blonde highlights and her cheeks are a soft rosy color that’s natural, not brushed on.

  Judge Miller examines the paperwork in front of her. “Looks like we’re here for an arraignment and detention hearing.” She rattles off the charges. “Does the minor—” Graylin’s swollen face stops her mid-sentence. “Does the minor admit or deny the petition?”

  Jenny gently elbows Graylin.

  “I deny,” he says loudly.

  “I’ve read the detention report. Mr. Martinez, do you wish to be heard?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. We feel strongly that the minor should be detained. We believe that he is indeed a danger to others. The victim’s parents—who are here in court today—fear that the minor presents a very real threat to their daughter. Simone Carlyle, the victim’s mother, would like to be heard regarding the trauma her daughter has suffered due to the minor’s conduct. In addition, Mrs. Carlyle recently advised me that the picture has gone viral. Our tech people were also able to confirm that.”

  I place a gentle hand on Graylin’s shoulder. I can feel him shaking.

  Jenny scribbles something on a Post-it note, folds it and passes it to me behind Graylin’s back.

  I cringe when I read it. Viral=Problem!

  “Okay,” Judge Miller says. “I’ll briefly hear from the mother.”

  Martinez turns around. “Mrs. Carlyle, please stand.”

  Mrs. Carlyle rises and smooths her hands over her red St. John jacket. “I’m Mrs. Simone Carlyle. The victim is my daughter. I want the court to know that my baby is very distraught and embarrassed over this invasion of her privacy. Both physically and psychologically she’s a wreck. She cries every day, all day.” The woman stops to dab at the corner of her eye with a tissue. “And ever since my baby’s friend texted her with the news that the picture has gone viral, she’s been afraid to leave the house. It’s probably in the hands of pedophiles now. My husband and I are here today to beg the court to keep the defendant locked up so my child is safe.”

  “But I didn’t do nothing, Ms. Angela,” Graylin mutters.

  “Please be quiet,” I whisper.

  The judge directs a question to Martinez. “Any prior contact between the minor and the victim?”

  “Nothing beyond attending the same school and having a couple of classes together.”

  The judge turns to Jenny. “Any questions for Mrs. Carlyle?”

  “Just one,” Jenny says.

  “Mrs. Carlyle, has your daughter seen a counselor as a result of this incident?”

  Simone tilts her head. “Excuse me, but this isn’t an incident?”

  “I’m sorry. Has your daughter seen a counselor?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  Jenny’s done with her, but Mrs. Carlyle keeps talking.

  “You’re trying to make it seem like my daughter wasn’t damaged by that little pervert!”

  “Mrs. Carlyle,” the judge says, “there isn’t a question pending.”

  “Your Honor,” Jenny exclaims, “I object to—”

  “But I didn’t do nothing,” Graylin cries out. “I’m innocent. I swear!”

  The judge gently taps her gavel. “Young man, you are not allowed to speak unless a question is directed to you. Do you understand?”

  A tear falls from Graylin’s swollen eye and in seconds, his hiccupping sobs fill the courtroom.

  “Your Honor,” Jenny says. “Can we take a short break to give my client a chance to collect himself.”

  Judge Miller twists her lips to the side. “Let’s take fifteen.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Apache

  I just got off the phone with my cousin Dre. I can’t believe what they doing to Gus’ kid. Got him locked up like a criminal just for having a naked picture of some girl.

  “You know anybody got a kid at Eastlake Juvenile Hall?” Dre asked me. “Somebody needs to have Graylin’s back. I’m not sure they’re going to let him come home.”

  Without a thought, I told him I was on it. I dig it when people, especially family, come to me for help. Makes me feel like a powerful mafia boss. I’m sure one of my partners has a little criminal-in-the-making on lockdown in juvie jail who can look out for Graylin. That’s what family does, and Gus and Graylin are like family.

  It only took me two calls to get things in motion. My homeboy Luke has a kid at Eastlake facing assault charges. Luke said he would get word to his son ASAP to have Graylin’s back. When I hang up, I’m feeling quite pleased with myself. If you want the job done, and done right, I’m your fix-it man.

  Now, I have to seriously focus on my plan to shut down The Shepherd. I jump in and out of the shower and thirty minutes later I’m rolling down Normandie in my Benz. I pull into the driveway of a house off 51st Street.

  I bang on the door for a good minute before somebody answers.

  Ronny Boy opens the door wearing only his boxers. “Man, do you know what time it is?”

  “Negro, it’s almost eleven o’clock. Get your ass up.” I walk past him into the house. “I need some help.”

  He rubs his eyes. “You got some nerve bogarting me this time of the morning. I work nights. What you want?”

  “I got some serious business that needs handling and you’re going to help me do it.”

  “Dude, I’m on the up and up now. Got me a job at Home Depot, if you can believe that. Even got me a 401K.”

  “Good for you. But you owe me.”

  “C’mon, man, cut me some slack.” Ronny Boy walks into the kitchen and I follow. “I’m not down with the streets no more. Got me a nice woman, a nurse. She makes good money. I ain’t try
ing to mess that up.”

  “I hear you. But what I need you to do ain’t nothing illegal. I just need you to make a contact for me.”

  Ronny Boy gives me a skeptical look, but doesn’t say more. He slumps into a chair at the kitchen table.

  I’m sure whatever you want me to do gonna lead right back to me if something goes down. Man, I ain’t trying to go back to prison.”

  “You heard of The Shepherd?”

  Ronny Boy nods. “The dude who got locked up for pimpin’ little girls?”

  “That would be the one. He’s on lockdown in the federal pen in Texas right now, but that didn’t stop him from putting the word out on the street that he wants my cousin Dre dead. But I got a plan to shut him down.” I smile. “From the inside.”

  “Negro, you must be crazy. How you plan to get to him when he’s in prison? Federal prison ain’t like state.”

  “You don’t need to know all the specifics. I just wanna know if you know that dude Blaze, who’s doing life at Corcoran.”

  Ronny Boy’s eyes flash like strobe lights. He hops up from his seat and starts waving his hands back and forth like a high-speed windshield wiper.

  “Hell naw, dude! I ain’t doing nothing got to do with Blaze. That dude is a stone-cold killer. He’s still ruling these streets like a free man. And he got connections from here to China. Nobody messes with Blaze unless they wanna die.”

  “Calm down, calm down. I know what a lunatic the brother is. I need somebody to get a message to him.”

  “Well, I ain’t delivering it.”

  “I don’t want you to deliver it. But you gotta know some dudes who’re still in Corcoran. You just got out six months ago.”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “I want you to get a message to one of them so they can get a message to Blaze.”

  “Man, I ain’t tryin’ to get mixed up in no madness. You know other dudes that done time at Corcoran. Call one of them.”

  “I plan to. But I need multiple sources. That way, when Blaze hears the same thing over and over again, he’ll know it’s the truth.”