Dear Justyce

by Nic Stone

  HOPE.

  Now Mama’s eyes do latch on to him again. Skeptically. And maybe even a little…protectively.

  But not of him.

  “Yeah, okay, LaQuan,” she says, clearly done with the conversation. She rises from the table. “You take care of yourself in here.”

  Done.

  It almost chokes him on the way out—especially after hearing her give up on him again—but Quan manages a “Yes, ma’am.”

  His mama motions to let a guard know she’s

  done.

  “Just wanted you to know stuff ain’t been easy, but everything’s all right.”

  As she walks away, though? Without a single glance behind her?

  Quan wants to cry out:

  How can anything be “all right” when me being HERE is all wrong?

  June 14

  Dear Justyce,

  I’m…not in a great place right now. Found out some shit about my sister and…man, I don’t even know.

  So my moms came through—with bad news obviously, cuz why the hell else would she pay a visit to her wrongfully incarcerated firstborn. And looking PAST the fact that it dredged up all this unresolved “mommy-issue” shit I know Tay is gonna be riding my ass about for the next who-knows-how-long, the stuff Mama TOLD me threw me into such a damn tailspin, I had a full-blown panic attack in the hallway on the way back to my cell. I think the superintendent almost shit his pants.

  “Damn, homie. What exactly did she tell you?” I can hear your goofy ass saying (which actually makes me feel a little lighter, won’t lie). The long and short of it is that my crew has been helping her out.

  I was real surprised at first. Truth be told, I thought all them fools had moved on. Washed their hands of your boy and went on about their lives. Guess it’s safe to say Tay’s prolly right about me having some sorta abandonment complex.

  (Pause: not sure how I feel about the fact that my counselor pretty much lives inside my head now.)

  Anyway, like I was saying, I guess deep down I’ve been convinced that everybody I really gave a damn about—in what feels like a whole other life—has forgotten about me. Can’t none of them visit me obviously, but my moms never did either. And the only person who’s ever written to me in here is you.

  And fine: I can’t imagine none of my dudes sitting down to handwrite no letter. Even knowing all that, though, after a while, the silence makes a dude start to think certain things.

  Hearing that they not only haven’t blotted my existence from their memories, but are helping take care of my family when I can’t? That shit has me ALL messed up, man.

  Not sure if you read poetry (if you don’t, you should. Doc got me hooked.), but there’s this one stanza from a poem by this dude named Jason Reynolds that keeps coming back to me:

  jason jason grind and grit

  don’t forget you’re not alone

  for everywhere is where you fit

  and everyone feels just the same

  It’s actually a poem about going too hard and being tired and needing a rest, but seeing my mama reminded me of what it felt like to be held down by dudes who got me. Knew where I came from, understood what I been through, and held me down even when my own mama had given up on me. The fact that they’re now holding HER down, just because she’s connected to me…That’s got me feeling some type of way, man.

  All I can think about now is if (when?) I DO get outta here, don’t I gotta go back?

  Wouldn’t a real man ensure that his debts are paid? That those who stood in for him are shown appreciation not only through his words, but through his deeds?

  Guess I just feel like I owe them the same kind of loyalty they showing me by making sure my moms and brother are taken care of while my sister goes through what she gotta go through.

  Hell, by the time I leave this place, Imma owe them more than just loyalty.

  What am I supposed to do about that? What am I supposed to do at all? Even if I am granted a favorable verdict in the case, I still got felonies on my record. I been in and outta jail since I was thirteen, man. Who’s gonna give me a job? And before you throw some “Go to college!” shit at me, who’s gonna pay for it?

  ALL of that aside, even if I managed to go to college AND get a job, I can’t just walk away from my crew. Number one, it don’t work like that. Even if I didn’t owe them a thing, I couldn’t just bounce. I’ve seen and know too much, man.

  This is a real-ass Catch-22. I read that shit a couple weeks ago. (HELLA trippy book.) The only way to stay OUT of what I really have no choice but to go back to is to stay IN here. But the longer I’m IN here, the more debt I’ll rack up for when I do get OUT.

  Kind of a no-win, ain’t it?

  Story of my damn life.

  —Q

  Jared insisted on coming. Said it would be “both enlightening and educational,” and that he needed “greater familiarity with the population” he’d “eventually be serving.”

  But as he and Justyce walk up the driveway of their destination, and Jus sees the smile that splits the face of his old pal Montrey Filly—who has grown a beard since the last time Jus saw him…which was also the last time Jus was here—a memory of Jared’s Halloween experiment-gone-wrong senior year POPS into Justyce’s head with the force and speed of a gunshot.

  This was a terrible idea.

  “Smarty Pants!” Trey calls out, spreading his arms. “I see you brought a friend?”

  Jus gulps down the panic making his legs want to move backward and shoves ahead even though it feels like wading through wet concrete.

  “ ’Sup, Trey?” Justyce says as they reach the foot of the porch steps. “This is Jared. He, uhh, wanted to meet y’all.”

  Just then, Brad comes out of the house, grinning. He’s also got some hair on his face now. And fuzzy blond locs that really are dreadful.

  Which makes Justyce think of something else: last he heard, both of these guys had been arrested for arson. He wonders when they got out. (Perhaps that “organization” lawyer Doc said Quan rejected is good at what he does.)

  He also wonders if one of them is Tomás Castillo’s true killer.

  “Justyce here was just introducing me to his pal,” Trey says to Brad.

  And Jared’s dumb ass sticks out a hand to shake. “Jared,” he says. “Nice grill, man,” and he gestures to his own teeth.

  “I know what a grill is and where it goes, fool,” Brad replies.

  “Yo, I know you from somewhere?” Trey says to Jared. “You look hella familiar…”

  “Smart guy, ain’t this one of them clowns you showed up at that party with Halloween before last?” from Brad.

  “Oh yeaaaaah, that’s right.” Trey’s rubbing his beard with his eyes narrowed all menacingly now.

  Again: terrible idea.

  “You can go on in, Justyce,” Trey continues. So Jus and Jared ascend the three stairs. But then: “White boy stays out here with us, though.”

  All of Justyce’s vital organs drop down into his sneakers, but to his surprise, when he peeks over his shoulder at Jared, dude is beaming like Trey just offered him his very own planet full of “hot tamales,” as Jared’s prone to call beautiful women.

  (Real work-in-progress, that guy.)

  Despite Jared’s apparent comfort—Justyce swears he hears him say “So about the Halloween thing…” as he’s headed up Martel’s ancient Kemet–enshrined hallway—Jus really has to focus to keep his heart rate from climbing to the speed of instant death. He did his research on gang exit strategies and discovered a number of…troubling things. (Jumped in/stabbed out came up a few more times than he’s expressly comfortable with.)

  Knowing what he’s here to ask Martel is—

  Well, it’s likely he’s lost his damn
mind, so he’s trying real hard not to think about it.

  “Well, well, well,” Martel says as Justyce steps into the living room. He’s in his personal papasan just as Justyce expected him to be, but clad in all black today. He’s grown out his hair a bit, and it’s cut into a Mohawk-type thing Jus has to admit is pretty dope. Also mustachioed and bearded, but cut real close to his skin. “Good to have you back, young brutha.”

  Justyce’s eyes drop to Martel’s ankle.

  “I’m a free man now,” Martel says, startling Jus so bad, he flinches.

  Which of course is just hilarious to the older dude. “I see you haven’t changed much,” he says. “College treatin’ you good?”

  “It’s all right,” Jus says with a shrug.

  “Guessin’ that’s not what you here to talk about, though…”

  Justyce’s gaze gets pulled to the floor as if by a magnet.

  “I’ll admit, I was surprised when you called,” Martel goes on. “Considering the way you ran outta here last time, I said to myself, ‘This shit must be real important if dude is willing to show his face around here again.’ ”

  Jus flinches internally this time.

  “So what’s up, my man? I know you ain’t come over here to stand in silence. What’s this about?”

  An easy(ish) in. “Uhh…Quan,” Justyce says. Not real graceful, but it’s out.

  The way Martel’s face goes all scrunched with confusion, however, makes Jus wanna suck it back in.

  He forges ahead instead.

  “He and I have been in communication for the past six months or so—”

  “MY Vernell’s been communicating with you?”

  Oh boy.

  “Yes, sir. I paid him a visit before returning to school back in January, and we’ve been communicating through letters ever since.”

  Now Martel’s eyebrows lift and the corners of his mouth turn down. He looks almost…impressed? Which quickly morphs into suspicious. “The hell y’all been ‘communicating’ about?”

  Now Jus has to tread carefully. He knows what he says next will either create a solid foundation for his outlandish request or give Martel every reason in the world to call the request outlandish. He kicks his shoulders up in a strategic shrug. “Really just trying to encourage him. One of my high school teachers took over as his educational coordinator, and he asked me to help Quan keep his head high.” A lie, but a necessary one. “He got his high school diploma.”

  Martel lights up like the fireplace blazes Justyce got used to seeing all around New Haven in the wintertime. “Did he, now?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “Well, do the damn thing then, Vernell!”

  Justyce smiles. This is going better than he expected.

  “That same teacher also got him a new lawyer,” Justyce continues, jumping in with both feet. “There’s a chance Quan—Vernell’s—rights were violated the night of his arrest.”

  Martel’s not smiling anymore. “Can’t say I’d be surprised.”

  “Well, if they were, he could very easily be acquitted. Really, depending on the severity, the whole case could get thrown out—”

  “I’m fully aware of how the legal system works, young buck.”

  Whoops.

  “Well, that’s why I’m here,” Jus says. “The lawyer’s working hard, and if Quan winds up getting to go free…”

  “I’m listening.”

  (Has this dude not heard of context clues? Damn.)

  “I guess, uhh…what I’m tryna say is…” Deep breath, Jus. “Umm…if he gets out…would you, uhh—”

  “I’m not a fan of all the uhhs and umms, young brutha. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Before I run out of patience.”

  Shit.

  “Well, I’m here to ask: If he gets out, will you let him free too?”

  “Let him free? What you think, I hold people hostage?”

  Backtrack, backtrack. “No, no, that’s not what I mean—”

  “So what do you mean?”

  Okay. Maybe a different angle…“I mean you no disrespect, sir—”

  “Quit with the ‘sir’ shit, Justyce. Just get to the point. While you still got the chance.”

  MAYDAY, MAYDAY…

  “Look, Quan’s been working real hard. He’s finally got a suppo—uhh, I mean a teacher who sees a lot of promise in him. He’s got a case manager who actually cares and a counselor really helping him work through some stuff. And he’s seeing a potential future for himself, which is something I don’t think he had much of a vision for before.”

  A corner of Martel’s mouth ticks up, and Jus wants to ask what he’s smiling about, but he resists. “What I’m saying is he’s able to see a different path now. He has no idea I’m here—would likely be real mad if he knew—but I truly believe he has a lot to offer the world, and with a little bit of help, he can pursue his dreams.”

  “And what dreams are those, Justyce?”

  Damn!

  “Well, I can’t say specifically, but I know he wants to take care of his mom and sister and set a good example for his brother.”

  Martel doesn’t respond this time.

  “As I said before, I mean you no disrespect, Martel. And as you suggested, my coming here is a sign that I see this as life or death. I think we both know that if Quan gets out—when Quan gets out, cuz I really believe he will—he’s gonna seek out the familiar. Then all of his hard work will’ve been for naught. So I’m asking you to NOT let him back in. With you. And your guys.”

  Martel’s eyes narrow to slits and his head slooooowly tilts to one side.

  So that’s it then. Justyce is officially a dead man.

  He knows his life is about to end when Martel looks him over head to toe and back again, then leans back in his rounded throne and crosses his arms. With a smirk. “You got a lotta damn nerve, boy.”

  There’s no way Jus can hold the eye contact now. But he refuses to let his chin drop. Instead, he fixes his gaze on the poster of Huey Newton hanging over Martel’s head. He learned all about dude in his History of the African American Experience course this past semester. That was a dude with “nerve”—

  “What’s in it for me?” Martel suddenly says.

  Which certainly gets Justyce’s attention. “Huh?”

  “You come up in here with this outlandish-ass request…What do I get out of it?”

  “Uhh—”

  “There you go with the uhhs again, Justyce.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Justyce gulps, looking everywhere except at Martel. Even though he knows he’s gonna have to when he asks the next question.

  So he does. “What…do you want?”

  “That teacher.”

  “Huh?”

  “The one who helped Vernell get his diploma. I want him here twice a week. Working with my boys so they can get their GEDs.”

  “Oh.” Hope this doesn’t backfire…“I’m sure he’d be cool with that.”

  “And Vernell can never come back here.”

  Jus doesn’t know what to say to that.

  “Ever. Matter fact, get his family outta here too. I don’t wanna see none of them. Far as I’m concerned Vernell Banks doesn’t exist. I see anything or anyone that suggests otherwise, we got a problem. Understood?”

  “Yeah.” What the hell is Jus even agreeing to right now? Uproot and replant a whole family?

  “Lastly: his debt will have to be repaid. With interest. In a timely manner.”

  Jus wants to ask how a person who doesn’t exist can owe a debt, but now doesn’t seem like the time for jokes. “Heard.”

  “I’ll have Trey contact you with those details. Understand that I’m holding you personally responsible. Something goes awry…”

  Martel cuts Jus a look that lets him
know he definitely, 100 percent does not want a single solitary thing to go awry.

  “Responsibility accepted, sir—I mean…”

  And Martel smiles. Warmly. “You a trip, man. Vernell is lucky. Most dudes around here don’t get a friend like you. Keep it up.”

  “Oh. Thanks.”

  “Now get the hell outta my house.”

  Justyce doesn’t have to be told twice. He tries to keep his cool as he heads back up the hallway to the exit, but he’s pretty sure his heart has stopped beating.

  As he pulls the front door open, he hears the words keg stand and sees the shoulders of three wildly different young men at the porch rail suddenly quake with laughter.

  “You a straight fool, Jared,” Trey says.

  “Got my ass wanting to go to college…” from Brad.

  And Justyce smiles. Because despite knowing that stepping out of Martel’s house this time means stepping into way more than he bargained for, that there’s still a life—lives—on the line, right here and right now, Justyce McAllister feels something he hasn’t felt in a long time:

  Free.

  Quan hasn’t been sleeping well, and he’s about 96 percent sure Doc can tell.

  Thing is, Doc is part of the problem. Technically, Quan’s not even supposed to be meeting with Doc anymore: he graduated two months ago, so the court-mandated “education component” of his juvenile detainment is over.

  Been over.

  But somehow, Doc is still here. Still showing up twice a week and giving Quan assignments to complete. Apparently, everything he’s doing now is aimed at earning college-level credits that’ll be transferable once he’s out. Attorney Friedman and Liberty talked to some people and did some stuff Quan didn’t know was possible to set the whole thing up.

  At Doc’s request.

  Doc, who also

  mentioned some

  grant he got that

  will help him start

  a tutoring service