Abuse of Discretion

by Pamela Samuels Young

  “Finally, the fact that the minor was involved in a fight while in custody shows that he has violent tendencies. I also have concerns about the father’s ability to supervise the child, due to his use of alcohol and marijuana, his close relationship with a convicted drug dealer, his own criminal past and his obvious inability to control his temper.”

  The judge’s disparagement of Dre feels like an attack against me. How are they supposed to move on if nobody lets them forget their past?

  “For these reasons, I don’t believe it’s in the best interest of the minor to return home. Therefore, I’m ordering that the minor be detained until final adjudication.”

  “Your Honor,” Jenny says, standing up. “May I be heard?”

  “You may, but it’s not going to change my mind.”

  “My client has never been in trouble before and makes excellent grades. He was attacked by a known bully and didn’t initiate the fight. Graylin will also be homeschooled and supervised twenty-four hours a day, so he wouldn’t be in contact with the victim and, therefore, is no threat to her. And it’s understandable why his father would be upset, considering what’s happening to his son. Graylin has always thrived in his home environment and we think he will continue to do so if released. Would you consider house arrest, Your Honor?”

  “I’ve made my decision, counselor.” The judge turns to the bailiff. “Let’s take a fifteen-minute break before we hear the next case.” She rises and disappears through a door behind the bench.

  I look over my shoulder, surprised to see that a gloating Simone Carlyle has returned. She was out for blood and today she got it.

  On the back row, Gus sits forward with his head in his hands.

  “I don’t understand,” Graylin says, weeping. “Why can’t go I home? I didn’t do anything. Why are they doing this to me?”

  I embrace him in a tight hug. I have no words to soothe him. Jenny doesn’t either.

  Martinez approaches the defense table. He avoids making eye contact as he hands Jenny a document. “Since the picture of Kennedy has gone viral, we’re amending the charges.”

  Jenny starts reading it as I glance over her shoulder.

  “You’re adding distribution of child pornography and invasion of privacy charges?” Jenny says. “Really? You have no evidence that Graylin took that picture or that he sent it to anyone.”

  “You don’t know what evidence we have,” Martinez says.

  “Are you friggin’ serious!” Gus exclaims.

  I didn’t realize he was standing behind us.

  Gus rushes up to Martinez, who takes several steps back. “Why are you doing this? My son is a good kid!”

  Dre pulls Gus away as I whisper into his ear. “If you go off in here, it’s only going to make things worse for Graylin. Please don’t say another word!”

  When the bailiff walks up, Dre starts tugging Gus out of the courtroom.

  “The facts of this case don’t warrant these charges,” Jenny says. “What kind of game are you playing?”

  Martinez shuffles from one foot to the other. “No game at all. The D.A.’s Office is serious about sending a strong message to perpetrators of child pornography no matter how old they are.”

  Jenny glowers at him. “So what you’re saying is, you’re making an example out of Graylin.”

  Martinez shrugs. “No. I’m just doing my job.”

  CHAPTER 35

  Graylin

  My head feels like it’s going to blow up by the time I get back to my unit. I’m lying down in my cell—I don’t care what they say, it’s a cell, not a room—when Mr. Dennison announces that dinner’s here.

  I walk into the day room and stand in line to pick up a plate. All the kids are happy because we’re having pepperoni pizza. I like pizza, but I’m mad at that judge for not letting me go home. I don’t care what my attorneys say, this is all Crayvon’s fault. He should be the one in here, not me.

  “You Graylin, right?”

  I turn around to see a tall kid with dreadlocks who looks at least fifteen or sixteen.

  “How do you know my name?” I can’t handle another bully messing with me so if I have to beat him up too, I will.

  “You got a lot of props for going toe-to-toe with Tyke last night. Everybody around here is scared of him. Except me, of course.”

  I want to tell him that I’m scared of Tyke too. Instead, I turn around and wait for my pizza.

  “They moved Tyke to the other side of the unit and put me over here so y’all can’t fight no more. But you still gotta watch your back cuz he’ll come at you again.”

  “I don’t care.” And I don’t. I don’t care about nothing anymore.

  Kemal, a boy who was tight with Tyke is throwing me shade. Just to show I’m not scared, I get my pizza and sit down right across from him.

  “Tyke want you to know it ain’t over,” Kemal whispers, after looking over his shoulder to make sure Mr. Dennison isn’t watching. “He still gonna kick your ass.”

  I’m about to tell him to bring it on when someone cuts me off.

  “Tyke ain’t gonna do nothin’ to nobody,” says the boy who was talking to me in line. “If Tyke got a beef with Graylin, then he got a beef with me and I know he don’t want that. And what about you? You got a beef with me?”

  Kemal shakes his head about ten times. “Naw, man, I’m just the messenger.” He slides down to the far end of the bench.

  “You good now,” the other boy says, sitting down next to me. “I got your back.”

  I’m so relieved I almost want to kiss him. “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “My pops told me to have your back. He and Apache go way back. They both OG’s.”

  My dad calls Apache a career criminal. And I’m thankful that he is. “What’s your name?”

  “Dontay. But they call me Little Slice on the street.”

  “Why do they call you that?”

  “Because if you cross me, I’ll slice you up into tiny little pieces.”

  Little Slice laughs but I don’t.

  “Dude, I’ma keep it one hundred with you. If you wanna keep these bitches off your ass, you gotta act tough. You kicked Tyke’s ass, but you walkin’ around here lookin’ like a little pussy. You gotta man up.”

  I want to ask Little Slice how I’m supposed to do that, but I don’t want to look like a punk.

  “What you locked up for?” he asks me.

  “They said I had child pornography on my phone.”

  “Dude, that’s messed up. Three of my boys got locked up for that. Your public defender probably don’t even care about your case.”

  “I don’t have a public defender. My dad hired me two lawyers.”

  “You could have ten lawyers and it still ain’t gonna do you no good. So what you gonna do about your case?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can’t leave it up to your attorneys.”

  “I have to. What can I do?”

  Little Slice squints and starts smiling like he knows a secret. “You can do a lot. In fact, I know how to guarantee you don’t get convicted cuz I got all kinda connections.”

  Yeah, right. If you were so smart, you wouldn’t be in here with me. I can tell Little Slice likes to brag and act all hard, so I let him.

  “So did you send that girl a picture of your penis or did she sext you?”

  “I didn’t sext nobody!”

  Little Slice leans back. “Hold up, little bruh. I was just askin’. Turn down the volume.”

  “My attorneys are going to get me off.”

  “Believe that lie if you want to. I don’t trust attorneys. They never tell you the real deal. They in it for the money.”

  I don’t know for sure about Ms. Jenny, but I know Ms. Angela’s not like that. I need to stop talking to Little Slice because he�
��s making me depressed.

  “You oughta let me help you,” he says.

  “How?”

  “Just kick back and let me do my magic. What’s the girl’s name?”

  I hesitate.

  “Dude, you can trust me. My pops told me to look out for you.”

  “Kennedy Carlyle.”

  “Does she go to your school?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s the name of your school?”

  I hesitate again.

  “Do you want my help or not?” Little Slice says.

  “Um, Marcus Preparatory Academy.”

  “Dang, bruh, you gotta be rich and smart to go there.”

  “I’m not rich. I got a scholarship.”

  “You think she sent that picture to you?” Little Slice asks. “Some of these ho’s are scandalous.”

  “I think my best friend Crayvon sent it to me. But I don’t know for sure.”

  “Aw, that’s cold if one of your boys set you up like that.”

  “I’ma talk to my peeps and handle things for you.”

  “How are you gonna do that?”

  “Just trust me, bruh. I told you. I got connections.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Dre

  I’m winding up for the day at a house we’re rehabbing off University Street in Carson. Gus was here for a few hours laying some kitchen tile, but I told him to split. His head is so messed up right now, having him on the job is next to useless. The last five tiles he laid were all crooked.

  I text Apache to see what’s up with our plan. I’m not pleased with his response.

  CHILL. I GOT YOU.

  Angela’s working late tonight, so I pick up cheeseburgers and fries from In-N-Out Burger and head over there. Sometimes that girl will work all day without stopping to take a sip of water. I wish I could get the guys I hire to work half as hard.

  As I pull into the parking garage, I can’t help but frown. The place is way too dark for her to be walking to her car alone. I make a mental note to remind Angela for the umpteenth time to make sure a security guard escorts her to her car at night.

  I watch as a well-dressed man climbs out of a Lincoln. My heart skips. I don’t know why, it just does.

  I tell myself to cool out. He’s probably a lawyer returning to his office. The cat is surely dressed the part. The criminals I know don’t wear suits or ties. Besides, the man Apache caught was a beefy dude driving an Escalade. This guy is trim and fit.

  Turning off the engine, I grab our burgers and get out of the car. Giving in to my paranoia, I take a quick picture of the dude’s license plate as I walk past his Lincoln. The Shepherd surely has enough money to have more than one thug doing his dirty work.

  By the time I get to the lobby, the man is signing in at the reception desk. Having somebody sign a piece of paper ain’t much of a security measure. I wait until he steps into the elevator before adding my own name. I notice that he signed in as John Wells and that he’s headed to the fourth floor—Angela’s floor.

  Calm down. There are at least ten offices on the fourth floor. I stalk over to the elevators and jab the button. Ten seconds later, I jab it again.

  After a wait that seems to last minutes but was probably only seconds, the elevator arrives and whizzes me to the fourth floor. I take giant steps toward Angela’s office and charge inside.

  Normally there’s a receptionist manning the front desk, but she splits at six. I step into the hallway leading into the attorneys’ individual offices and bang on Angela’s closed door.

  I hear muffled voices, then Angela sticks her head through the door.

  “Hey,” she says with a baffled smile. “What are you doing here?”

  Relieved that she’s okay, I hold up the In-N-Out bags. “I brought you some grub.”

  I peer past her and see the man who’d been driving the Lincoln. He turns around. When our eyes meet, I see instant panic in his. I don’t recognize him, but he apparently recognizes me.

  Angela steps outside, closing the door behind her.

  “It’ll be another hour or so before I can take a break. I wish you’d called first.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “A new client.”

  “So you never met him before?”

  “Uh, no. Why?”

  “Why’re you meeting a new client this late at night?”

  “What’s up with the fifty questions?”

  I repeat my question.

  “Because I’ve been spending my days working on Graylin’s case. This was the only time I could meet and it happened to be convenient for him too. What’s going on?”

  “What kind of case is it?”

  “None of your business, Dre. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I reach behind her and throw open the door. “I’m sorry for the interruption,” I say to the dude. “I’ll be waiting out here until you guys are done.”

  Angela frowns. “What? You don’t have to do that.”

  My eyes remain locked on the guy. “Yes, I do.”

  Angela picks up on the knowing glances between us. She looks from the man to me. “Do you two know each other?”

  “Do we?” I ask.

  The man stands up. “Uh, I don’t think so. Is there a problem?”

  “Nope,” I step inside the office. “No problem at all. Like I said, I’ll be waiting outside until you’re done.”

  Embarrassment floods Angela’s face. “Mr. Wells, I’m sorry for the interruption.” She turns to me. “Dre, there’s no need for you to wait. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

  My eyes stay on the man. “Like I said, I’m not leaving. I’ll be right outside.”

  “I’m not sure what’s going on here,” the man mumbles, “but maybe I should leave.”

  “Maybe you should,” I say.

  “Ms. Evans, I’ll give you a call another time.”

  Angela stands there with her arms crossed. She doesn’t say a word until we hear the main office door close.

  “You tell me what’s going on right now!” she says angrily. “You may’ve cost me a new client and I want to know why. And don’t tell me it’s nothing!”

  I collapse into the chair the man just abandoned. “I’m sorry. Apache caught someone casing my sister’s house and I’m worried that The Shepherd might try to have someone snatch Brianna again. I’ve been on edge ever since.”

  Alarm shatters Angela’s face. “Okay, but why come down here and scare off my new client?”

  “When I saw that guy, I started thinking Shep might’ve sent someone after you too.”

  “And why would he do that?”

  “To get back at me for rescuing Brianna. For testifying against him. I don’t know.”

  “Why’re you being so paranoid, Dre?” Angela’s eyes suddenly flare with fear. “Did someone tell you that The Shepherd was after Brianna again? Is that why you’re so concerned?”

  I want to tell her the truth and I almost do.

  “No. I just—” I look down at my hands. “I couldn’t handle anything happening to you or Brianna. I guess I am being paranoid.”

  Angela sits in my lap, loops her arms around my neck and kisses me.

  “I’m fine. We have a security guard who walks the halls every hour. Whenever I’m here late, he always checks on me.”

  “Hey, Miss A?” someone calls out. “You still here?”

  “Speak of the devil,” Angela says smugly. She hops up and returns with a man who barely reaches my chin.

  “Prentiss, this is my boyfriend, Dre. He’s worried about me working late by myself. I was telling him how you always look out for me.”

  “Got that right,” Prentiss says. “Everything’s all good when I’m on the job. Nothing for you to worry about. I got her back.” He pauses t
o give Angela a playful wink. “Miss A gets special treatment because she’s the only tenant who brings me cookies.”

  Neither one of them understands the danger at hand. If that Wells guy was one of The Shepherd’s henchmen, he could’ve knocked the unarmed Prentiss out with a simple backhand.

  After Prentiss leaves, I convince Angela to take a break to eat. While she’s in the back grabbing sodas from the fridge, I send Apache a text. He’s been casing the Craps parking lot from time to time looking for the dude driving the black Escalade. That would confirm that he’s tied to The Shepherd. I send him the picture of Wells’ license plate and ask if he’s seen the black Lincoln at Craps.

  Just as Angela returns, I read Apache’s response and the blood drains from my face.

  CHAPTER 37

  Martinez

  It’s twenty minutes after two and the Carlyles are late. I’m hoping they won’t be a no-show. With the pressure I’m under to make this case stick, I don’t need a recalcitrant victim.

  I’ve asked Teresa, our investigator, to join us. She has amazing instincts. I’ve been pushing her to go to law school, but she’s more interested in a low-stress life than a bigger paycheck.

  We finally get a call that the Carlyles have arrived. We enter the conference room and find Kennedy wedged between her parents. She’s going to make a very sympathetic witness. The girl’s eyes are sad and she can’t make eye contact for more than a second or two. She’s wearing the pain of Graylin Alexander’s violation like a fresh coat of paint.

  “Thanks for coming down,” I begin. “We—”

  “It’s not like we had much of a choice.” Simone’s voice is infused with sarcasm. “You ordered us down here like we’re the criminals.”

  I don’t take her bait. “This is Teresa Clump,” I continue, as if she hadn’t interrupted me. “She’s one of our best investigators. Her help will be crucial in gathering the evidence we need to prove Graylin took that picture. We’re still waiting for the forensics on his phone. Teresa will need to come out to your home sometime this week. We want to simulate taking a picture through Kennedy’s bedroom window to give us an idea of where Graylin Alexander was standing when he invaded your daughter’s privacy.”