Die Later

by Rahiem Brooks

  Kareem got off the phone with the police and then started to take pictures of the potential crime scene. He had no idea if a crime had occurred, but he was not taking any chances. After he snapped until he thought he had enough, he called a former Columbia University professor. He had to call in a favor.

  CHAPTER 21

  The four hundred block of 13th Street was filled to the brim with people as AUSA Barnswell made his way up it. He weaved in and out of the crowds of people and wanted to have many of them arrested for texting while walking. The act was not a crime, but he could sure as hell prompt legislation to make it one. Between that and loud absurd talking about nothing, he hated the invention of the cellular phone. Given the shitty morning he had after receiving the motion to change plea, he could go on a mass arresting spree and think nothing of prosecuting people and sending them away for many years for such a small thing.

  He approached Cafe Lift and looked inside before going in. He searched for his lunch date and found that he had not arrived. Barnswell was five minutes early and was never tardy to the party, especially when his ass was on the line. If he had lost this case to two snotty-ass black kids, he would be stripped of his position within the Department of Justice (DOJ), and that was not going to happen. He ran his hand across an ugly half-inch scar on his face that was rumored to have come from a former trial defendant who had jumped off the witness stand and dug into Barnwell’s face with a small shaving razor. The inmate had hidden the razor in his ass wrapped in tissue and plastic to get it over to the courthouse from the FDC. That single act was responsible for the invention of new metal detector chairs that inmates had to sit in after being stripped searched before heading to the courthouse. The chair was reminiscent of the electric chair and checked an inmate’s ass for metal. But that did not deter them. Another inmate swallowed a razor and attacked his defense attorney during the cross-examination of the man’s baby mother. It was a mess.

  Barnswell entered the restaurant and had a seat in the back. It was a sinister setting despite the up tempo beat of the cafe. He settled into his seat and asked for a pot of coffee. He then went into his briefcase and re-read the defense motion. He became pissed all over again after reading two pages. The waiter placed the coffee pot and a coffee mug on Barnswell table and filled the cup.

  “Thanks,” Barnswell said and pulled out his DOJ badge. “I am an assistant US attorney, and I am about to have a meeting with a defense attorney. Could you see that we are not disturbed?” Barnswell was a tall man with a face that remained evil. He had a brown mole between his eyebrows that was equally as scary as the scar, and he used his badge for an added dose of fear. “Oh, here’s my friend now,” Barnswell said and then asked Greenburg if he wanted coffee.

  “No, I won’t be here long. In fact, I left the taxi idling.”

  “Oh, in that case let’s get right to it. What’s this, pal?” Barnswell said and tossed the defense motion across the table.

  “You’re the answer to that, Barnie.”

  “Barnie, my ass Greenburg. What the hell is up with this? Two days before trial. You know I am going to request a continuance.”

  “And, I have my motion to oppose that ready to go. You’re a United States prosecutor with a reservoir overflowing with legal assistants to have you prepared for this.”

  “This is a blind side,” Barnswell said. “Since when is the man insane?”

  “The agent made him that way. He was coerced by a federal agent that not only forced him to commit crime, but had him fearful that he would face the same fate as his father. It’s very ironic that you were the assistant on the case that landed his father in jail.”

  “There’s nothing ironic there. And before you came on board, Lemmelle made a motion to have me removed from the case for conflict of issues purposes, but that motion was denied. But tell me, why didn’t your guy go to the police if he was being forced to commit a crime?”

  Greenburg shook his head and smiled. “You have over 27 years with the prosecutor’s office. Do you expect a person to go to the police when they are being forced to commit a crime by an officer?”

  Larry Greenburg graduated cum laude from the University of Maryland, College Park in 1978 with a major in Political Science. Three years later, he again graduated cum laude with a J.D. from the Temple University School of Law. He published a work titled, “Pennsylvania Evidence: Objections & Responses” in 1983, and served as an adjunct professor at the Temple University School of Law from 1996-2003. He heads his own 100% criminal defense firm located on the trendy Walnut Street in Philadelphia, and specifically goes to war in federal court. He specializes in drug, gun and identity theft crimes and had bar admissions in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware, the U.S. Court of Appeals 3rd Circuit and U.S. Supreme Court. He had the credentials and the connections, and if Assistant United States Attorney Barnswell wanted to give it a go, he was ready!

  Barnswell sipped a shot of black coffee and then said, “This is a very novel argument, one highly unlikely of winning. But if you insist, I assure you that I am prepared to send Andre Bezel to the electric chair.”

  “News flash: he isn’t facing any charges that will get him there.”

  Barnswell stood and then said, “Is that so? Well, you’d think he had some by the time I‘m done frying him.” He drank up his cup of joe, tossed a $5 bill on the table, and then said, “Good day,” before walking away.

  * * *

  “Um. waitress could you bring me an extra mug. I think I will have a shot of coffee,” Greenburg said as he stood. “I have to go pay the taxi, but I’ll be back inside.”

  Greenburg walked out to the taxi and handed him a twenty dollar bill. He pulled out his cell phone and called Defense Attorney Ravonne Lemmelle.

  “So glad you called,” Lemmelle said and then asked, “You’re sure you have this all figured out?.”

  Greenburg smiled. “You have a very quick wit, young man. I’m assuming that you’ve got your copy of the motion this morning. Is it genius or what?”

  “I did and it’s near genius. There is a case out of the 11th District that was just ruled on last Friday, which you obviously missed. And that is because this motion has been ready to go for some time.” Lemmelle was a very prolific and ambitious attorney. He never asked questions that he did not know the answers to. He was fully aware of what the Bezel Brothers had up their sleeves, as he orchestrated it. The brothers were Lemmelle’s first cousins and he was out to keep them from behind bars. Lemmelle was the very sardonic son of the Pennsylvania Governor with a 100% approval rating.

  “Perhaps you’re right. I am going dark for two days. I assume we will meet in the courtroom for a pre-trial hearing on the matter tomorrow. I’ll need you there because you’re familiar with some of the facts and we may need you to speak on them.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Perfect, friend,” Greenburg said, smiled and hung up the phone. He was ready to make magic. He pulled out his cell phone to make a call.

  CHAPTER 22

  Sometimes the drama in a jail just came out of the blue, like when an inmate refused to cuff up and step out of his SHO or isolation cell.

  “Bezel?”

  “What!” Arrogant.

  “This is Captain Perry and I think I have some important news for you.”

  Dre was willing to listen to the captain. For the staff to bypass the subordinates of the captain and head straight to the upper echelon prison staff to deal with him forced him to feel honored. Dre had made his mark and after having the entire jail flood their cells and refuse to lock in, and then having the media going mad outside the prison, he needed special attention because no one knew what he would do next.

  The captain had a folder in his hand, which he spun sideways and started writing. Inmate is responsive.

  “Go ahead. What’s the news?” Dre asked.

  “Just a moment ago, I received a call from your attorney and was informed that you have an emergency pre-trial motion tomorrow. He as
ked me to inform you of that and I am. In exchange, I am asking that you inform your brother to call off this media storm going on in front of the prison. See, I can’t have my staff harassed by the media and I will not be granted the permission to release a statement, or even talk to the media.”

  “Um,” Dre said. The captain had run his mouth nonstop and he felt compelled to acknowledge that he was listening.

  “Yeah, so we have gotten the jail under control and I can assure you that they will be on lock-down without visit or telephone privileges for so long, your trial may be over. I hear that it’s slated to last three months.”

  “Captain, I’m sorry, but can you tell me why I give a damn about any of this?”

  “Well, this is the thing. I can have you shipped out of here and lose you over and over. I can accidentally ship you out to make bed space, and then accidentally have you en route to our holdover jail in Warsaw, Virginia when you should be at trial. I could run this game that pushes your trial until there’s snow on the ground.”

  “What a threat,” Dre said and stood up from the bed. He methodically walked from the bed to the door, and stared hard into the captain’s face. “You can do what you wish, but I have a promise of my own. I am not done with you and the disruption of your jail.”

  The captain opened the folder and read some of the contents. Now we were getting to the meat and beans of this. Dre kicked the cell door ferociously and the captain jumped back. Scaring the correctional staff was Dre’s calling card.

  “There’s nothing like making a mistake, but you’re making a good one by fucking with me, Captain Perry. BTW, I am not going back to my cell.”

  “That’s fine. I need you too cuff up though. I’m moving you to 7S.”

  “The psyche unit?”

  “Yes. Precisely.”

  Dre thought a moment and had to decide what if anything could come out of him being housed there.

  “You threatened to kill yourself and this is my way of accommodating you. You go down there and we have a CO watch you and you talk with psyche’s.”

  “Why can’t I do that here? It’s already been done.” Dre’s head was spinning. He smelled a setup. He refused to get cuffed be attacked. There were no cameras rolling and no inmates could even hear his cries because of the location of the isolation cell. It was not on the cell block.

  “I don’t have to explain myself. I am the captain here.”

  “Right, but I have you by the balls. Don’t let anyone cover your ears as I say this: Fuck you, Captain Perry!”

  “Ok, have it your way. I assure you that I will be back.”

  “And I assure you that I will be waiting.” Dre had quick wits and analyzed situations more quickly than a lot of inmates. “Hey, tell me this, Cap. How am I supposed to have my brother call off the media if I have no idea what you’re talking about?”

  “We’ll give you a monitored and recorded call to him. Would that work?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps we exchange the call for your willingness to move.”

  “Fuck that. You need this cell for another basket case I bet. I bet you need this room and you need me to be cooperative so that you can get someone in here that really needs to be, as you probably view me as a joke. This is not a game but I suggest you play by the rules.”

  “What rules, Bezel?”

  “Mine,” he said and smiled.

  CHAPTER 23

  It was just short of noon when the police stepped out on 86th Street after concluding a preliminary investigation. Kareem stood there in pajama bottoms with his arms crossed as he watched the NYPD hop into their cheap vehicles. They did not take a missing person’s report, but they did stand around and listen to Kareem’s story, which they viewed as fiction, and they were not required to look at it differently. A grown woman gone for all of a few hours was not worthy of a missing person’s report. Nor was Kareem’s problem worthy of the mass amount of attention that would be dedicated to a person missing in the City that Never Sleeps.

  Kareem watched the two officers hop into their car and he admired the female officer’s cleavage once more before he shut his front door. He walked to the family room and threw himself on the sofa. He rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. He was disgusted and lost. He hated when he had no control and he could never control the unknowing. Over and over, he asked himself if Toi had been kidnapped. He was fully aware that McKenzey had a bevy of corrupt followers that were dedicated to doing anything that they could to show that they were loyal. Kidnapping Toi, or anyone else connected to the Bezel brothers, was not out of the scope of things that Kareem had expected.

  There were pictures of Toi and him all over the family room and that began to take a toll on him. The room began to spin with confusion. Toi seemed to have preferred him at a distance, which was not the plan that he wanted for them. Seemed that she had been granted her wish, and now he was left to deal with the madness. He envisioned that if she was missing, the kidnappers were designing things to appear that he had been responsible for her disappearance.

  Kareem stood and was prepared to just lie in bed and wait for the call; which call he had no idea. The call from the coroner. The call from a lead detective for him to come in for questioning. Or the call demanding money from the kidnappers. As he brooded, his cell phone rang and he thought, here we go.

  The caller ID read: PRIVATE. And Kareem surmised that the call would be private.

  “Hello,” he said cautiously.

  “Reem, it’s Dre.”

  “Dre who?” Kareem asked and knew full well who it was. He was just confused, and he asked, “How are you calling me direct?”

  “The captain gave me a call.”

  “Are you okay?” he asked the obvious. He could not understand what the hell was going on. Two monkey wrenches being thrown at him in a matter of hours was too much to bear.

  “I am fine, but I need you to do something for me.”

  “That is?” Kareem asked and then said, “We’re being recorded, right?” He had to know what he was up against before he answered any questions, or incriminated himself, or committed to doing something that was out of his reach or he was just not going to do.

  “I am not sure if you know about the events going on in this jail with me, but I’m in trouble and I got some shit started.”

  “Stop right there. Is this call being recorded and are we being monitored. I need to know that before we proceed.”

  “I need for you to get the media from in front of the jail, man.”

  Kareem was fully aware that he was being monitored. He knew what had been happening in the jail; hell, he orchestrated it. And he knew that Andre did not answer his question because they were being monitored. How else would he be calling direct?

  A light chuckle was followed by, “Um bro, what are you talking about?”

  “Man, on grand mom, get the media from in front of the jail.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you insist, I will make an attempt to do that.”

  “No. Don’t try! Do it.”

  “Or else?”

  “Or I won’t get what I was promised in exchange for you making that happen!”

  The call was terminated along with Kareem’s spirit. Just when he had thought that he had it all figured out. He raced up to his room and dialed Tasha and he threw on some clothes. She answered on the very first ring.

  “Sis, get the media from in front of the jail. I know this sounds strange, but mission has obviously been accomplished.”

  “Why you say that, bro?”

  “I just got a call from Dre and he asked me to. That was never in the plan, but I believe he has shaken everything up in there.”

  “Don’t get it, but I will. You need to tell me some more about this overall plan.”

  “No, I don’t, Tash. Just go with the flow. Are you in jail?”

  “No, but...”

  “You’re speechless. You know that it’s because of me th
at they did not at least arrest you and have you on bail with home monitoring and curfew until the outcome of the case. Just work with me. I am going to forward you the contact list of media reps outside the jail. Please go to a pay phone in Jersey and call them. Just cross the Ben Franklin Bridge and take the Atlantic Avenue exit on the right as soon as you’re in Jersey. Drive straight up to Broadway and make a right. Go until you reach the transit center. I know that there are plenty of pay phones there. You got all that.”

  “Yes. I got it. Send the numbers. Are there cameras in there?”

  “Not sure. Check and improvise if you have too.”

  “Okay, I have it.”

  “Cool,” Kareem said and was about to hang up.

  “Kareem?”

  “Yes.” What was the problem, he thought.

  “Is Dre coming out of there?”

  “Stay tuned. You’ll see.” He had no idea if that statement was true, but he had other calls to make.

  CHAPTER 24

  Forty-five minutes later, Kareem Bezel pulled off the Nassau Expressway and headed into Cedarhurst, New York. The village was incorporated in 1910. It is part of the "Five Towns", together with the village of Lawrence and the hamlets of Woodmere and Inwood, and "The Hewletts", which consist of the villages of Hewlett Bay Park, Hewlett Harbor and Hewlett Neck and the hamlet of Hewlett, along with Woodsburgh. Cedarhurst's early name was Ocean Point. Rail service arrived in 1869, which lead people to the area, especially to the Rockaway Hunt Club, built in Cedarhurst in 1878. A post office was established in 1884, and Ocean Point was renamed Cedarhurst, partly at the request of the Hunt Club.

  For many years, Central Avenue, the area's main business district, was considered the Rodeo Drive of Long Island, offering upscale shops and boutiques to discriminating shoppers from around the area. Kareem parked his SUV along these shops for a more pressing matter than buying luxury goods. He hopped out of his truck and grabbed a sandwich bag on the way out. After feeding the meter, Kareem walked briskly up Central. He reached a glass office building and looked at his phone to assure that he was at the right place. There was a board that mapped where the offices were located and he found where he was headed: Slomsky Laboratories, Inc.