Trust in No Man 2

by Cash

  He forgives all those who repent and ask His forgiveness and mercy.

  With Love and Prayers,

  Poochie

  When Juanita called Poochie on a three-way, I was very lucky that Lil’ T happened to be there.

  “Lil’ T! Come get the phone!” Poochie yelled.

  “Who is it, Grandma?”

  “Come and see.”

  I heard her passing my son the telephone.

  “Hello?”

  “What’s up, boy?”

  “Daddy!” he squealed.

  Tears begin to swell up in the corners of my eyes.

  “Daddy, is you outta jail?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “Nah, lil’ man.”

  “When they gon’ let you out?”

  “Probably never.” I was just keepin’ it real with my lil’ soldier.

  “Daddy, I want you to come home!” he sobbed.

  That shit broke my heart.

  “My friend’s brother said they gonna kill you wit’ lethal ‘jection.”

  “Maybe so. But you’ll always remember me, won’t you?” No sense in lying to him.

  Lil’ T’s sobs grew louder. All I could do was hurt for him. When his crying subsided he said, “If they kill you, I’ma kill them! I hate everyone who put you in jail and want you to die! When I grow up, I’ma get all them mafuckaz!”

  It was like my son was no longer a ten-year-old boy, but an angry man.

  “Lil’ T, watch your language,” I heard Poochie say in the background.

  “Sorry, Grandma, but I hate everybody!” Then he burst out in tears again. “Daddy, Mama took your CD and won’t let me listen to it no more. I hate her, too! My friend’s brother said Mama the one who told the police on you. Did she, Daddy?”

  I didn’t wanna answer him because I knew the truth would turn him against his mother. I knew for certain, through discovery motions that my attorney had filed, that Shan had been the first to go to the police on me. I also knew that she was scheduled to testify against me for the state.

  “Lil’ T,” I said soothingly, “I understand why you’re so angry, but try to do this for Daddy, okay? Try not to let what people say get you so upset. You gotta be stronger than that. No matter what, know that I love you with all my heart. Be tough like I taught you. But also be smart.”

  “Okay, Daddy,” he sniffled.

  “Your mother brought you into this world,” I continued. “It’s your duty to love and respect her. Promise me you’ll always do that.”

  “But she don’t love you, Daddy,” my son protested.

  “That don’t matter, Lil’ T. Now are you gon’ make me that promise or what?”

  “Nope,” he replied defiantly. “She told on you!”

  Well, I tried. Just like me, Shan had to sleep in the bed she made. The guard told me my time on the phone was up.

  “Lil’, T?”

  “That ain’t my name no more, Daddy.”

  “What’s your name, then?”

  “Lil’ Youngblood.”

  All of a sudden the phone went dead.

  “Yo!” I beat on the cell door. “Did you cut the phone off? I asked the busta ass guard.

  “Yeah. I told you your time was up.”

  “Bitch ass nigga, you could’ve let me say goodbye to my son!” I slammed the phone down on receiver, then I nearly threw it outta my cell.

  When I calmed down some, I thought about my son saying that he was Lil’ Youngblood. All I could do was shake my head. I did not want Lil’ T to follow in my footsteps.

  I felt as if I had failed him, and that burden weighed heavy on me.

  CHAPTER 24

  Now that I had knowledge of self, I had patched things up with Ma Duke, apologizing for allowing my pride and stubbornness to override our bond.

  “Like Jigga said, I was a bastard for that,” I’d told her.

  “Jigga?”

  “Jay-Z, Ma.”

  “Oh. Boy, I don’t listen to that rap mess anymore.”

  I laughed. “Mama, you done let Raymond turn you into a square. I remember back in the day you was gettin’ yo’ Salt-N-Peppa on.”

  “Yeah, I used to bust a move or two,” Mama reminisced. “Now I’m living according to the Word.”

  Like Poochie, Mama was on that Christian stuff, too. Although I didn’t share Mama’s beliefs, there was no sense in me tryna enlighten her. She was on it too hard. Anyway, I was just happy we had patched things up.

  As soon as I got extradited back to Atlanta, Mama was there for me. She had been ready to sell the house her and Raymond lived in to hire Bruce Harvey, a top flight attorney, but I already had that covered.

  At the county, I was allowed visits only twice a week. Mama and Juanita usually visited together.

  The other day was for Inez, Poochie, Keisha, Swag and anybody else. It seemed like the whole hood wanted to visit a nigga.

  Mama told me that she had drove through Englewood the other day and saw that someone had painted a mural of me on the side of one of the housing units.

  “Like you’re dead already!” she huffed.

  “Ma, they just showing love,” I explained with a chuckle.

  But Mama wasn’t amused. She was stressin’ over the state seeking the death penalty against me.

  “What gives them the right to play God?” she seethed. “And that boy’s mama and sister going on television saying all that stuff like Murder Mike was a saint! Hmmpf! Lord forgive me, but what was you supposed to do, let them kill you?” Mama vented.

  She knew the laws of the streets.

  “Don’t let ‘em get your blood pressure up, Ma. You raised a man. I can handle whatever they throw my way,” I assured her.” Let me recite this poem I wrote for you, Ma.”

  I cleared my throat, looked into my Mama’s eyes through the Plexiglas and recited:

  “Dear Mama,

  Your work was well done

  Take that from your baby, your only son

  I bow my head humbly, to make amends with you.

  I apologize profusely for all I put you through

  I did not realize, I was unaware

  I swear, Mama I wouldna took it there

  When it came to loving me, you did what you felt was right

  My anger and the streets blocked out your light

  I couldn’t see the man I was supposed to be

  But through it all you kept on lovin’ me

  No matter what is said, when all is said and done

  Hold your head high, Mama, that’s from your hard-headed son.”

  Mama smiled and nodded her head as she wiped at the tears that ran down her face.

  We said good-bye, then she left so that Keisha could visit with me alone for a few minutes. She was waiting outside in the lobby as Keisha stepped in.

  Keisha said, “I shoulda been your baby mama.”

  “You could’ve been, but you swallowed all the babies,” I joked.

  “Ummm,” she licked her lips.

  “Shawdy, you need to stop.” I smiled.

  “Fa real though, you the livest nigga that ever lived,” she proclaimed, getting teary-eyed.

  “Girl, you act like you ain’t coming to visit a nigga again. What’s up with dat?”

  “I’m good,” she sniffled. “I just hate seeing you like this.”

  The visit ended before she could say anything more.

  A week later, Swag visited, bringing sad news.

  “You saw the news?” he asked.

  “Nah, I ain’t been watchin’.”

  “Sun, Keisha gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “They killed her.”

  “Slow down! What da fuck you talkin’’bout? Who killed her?”

  “Po-po, dawg. They swooped in on her as she pulled up in Englewood about to make a drop. Lil’ Mama went out just like Latifah did in Set It Off.”

  “Nah, man.” I discounted what he said. I didn’t wanna believe it.

  “My w
ord, homey.” Swag put a fist to his chest. “Those mafuckaz hit ole girl with twenty-two slugs.”

  “Bitch ass cops!”

  “I just wish she hadda took at least one with her,” he said.

  For the next thirty minutes we reminisced about Keisha. Swag told me that Angel was tore up over it.

  I dropped my head and fought back tears as I reminisced about baby girl.

  It’s a’ight, lil’ mama, you went out triller than a whole lotta niggaz. The streets won’t ever forget that.

  Swag interrupted my thoughts.

  Oh yeah, homie. I forgot to tell you I found out who shot you that time at the gas station.”

  “Who?” I had always wondered about that.

  “A nigga named PK off the Westside. Nigga braggin’, talkin’ ‘bout he wet you up ‘cause you robbed his sister and some other stripper friends of hers, said some nigga named King put him up on you.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yep. But don’t worry, the streets gon’ see about dude.”

  “Swag,” I said forcefully. “Nigga, stick to the music. What you got a chance to do is bigger than some street beef. Dude did what he was s’pose to do. I touched his people. He hollered back. Let it rest.”

  “I’m sayin’, sun—”

  “Let. It. Rest.” It didn’t matter now, anyway. Too much time had passed since then.

  “A’ight,” he reluctantly agreed.

  When I got back to my cell, I wasn’t even thinking about PK or what I had done to his sister. Instead, I sat down on the bunk and thought about Keisha. If only Lonnie had balls like shawdy.

  I noticed three letters had been slid under my door. I picked them up and opened the first one.

  Youngblood,

  I will not waste time asking how you are doing. Under the circumstances, I could care less. I just need you to know that when and if you did kill Michael, you didn’t just kill a nigga in the street. You killed a man. A husband. A father. A friend. Michael was all those things to me and our children. You took that all away from us. Why? Was it money? Was his friendship that cheap to you? The times you came to New Orleans with him and I welcomed you into my home, it seemed that the two of you were the closest of friends. He spoke very highly of you. Please tell me why you took him away from me?

  Francisca

  I set the letter down and thought about what I would say if I were to respond to her letter. I would tell her that it was Murder Mike who put shit in the game, not me. Up until he violated me, nothing could’ve made me bang him.

  The code we lived by should’ve stopped him from going along with the Dreads’ move on me. But it hadn’t.

  So everything that followed was fair.

  I crumpled up Francisca’s letter, tossed it in the commode, and flushed it.

  Then I opened the second letter.

  Youngblood,

  You a bitch ass nigga and I hope they convict you and give your hatin’ ass the needle! I’ll go out dancing when they kill yo’ punk ass. I always told Murder Mike that you were jealous of his shine. That’s why you always tried to get him to break up with me.

  Hater!

  I’m still a fly bitch!

  You know who.

  “Cita,” I said out loud.

  Shawdy, you still a rat. Eat a dick!

  I laid back on my bunk and opened the third letter. It was from Inez, but a fake name was on the envelope. She was just playing it safe.

  Hey, boo, I miss you so much. All I do is lie in my bed and think about you, baby.

  Every time I hear someone bumpin’ your CD, I be like, “That’s my boo!”

  It seems like everywhere I go, something reminds me of you. I just wanna be able to touch and kiss you just one more time. If I could just have that one wish granted, fuck everything else.

  Bitches all in my ear telling me I’m a fool for not flippin’ on you. Mama tried to tell me that if you were a real man you would take all the weight and set me free. Man, we had it out! I hadn’t ever cussed my mother before, but before I could stop the words from coming out my mouth, I had told her a thing or two.

  She slapped the taste out of my mouth (LOL). That’s okay, though. I defended you, boo. No matter what the outcome I’ll never regret my decision to hold you down, nigga. Only a weak bitch turns against her man.

  Mama and others keep pushing the Bible at me, telling me to pray, but after what you’ve been enlightening me to in regards to the science, I’m just not feeling Christianity.

  Well, baby, I’ma end this letter, but never our love. It is endless…

  Love, Inez and Tamia

  P.S.

  Trial starts soon.

  Oh, boy!

  CHAPTER 25

  Inez was right. Our trial was scheduled to start soon.

  A month after Keisha was laid to rest, autumn pushed summer out of the way, and I was taken back to Kentucky to stand trial, along with Inez, for the robbery and murder of King.

  The state’s case was mostly going to be riding solely on the testimony of forensic experts whose testimony would identify the bite mark on King’s arm as Inez’ teeth prints, the saliva swabbed from the wound as containing her DNA and hair samples found in the bed belonging to Inez.

  In one of our few pretrial victories, the cruddy-faced judge ruled that my admission to Lonnie that Inez helped me setup, rob and kill King could not be used against Inez because it was hearsay, inadmissible. Lonnie would be permitted to testify to what I said I did, only.

  Fearing prejudice against his client, due to all the publicity my case in ATL was receiving, Inez’ attorney asked the court to severe her trial from mine, but the judge wasn’t tryna hear it.

  “They’ll stand trial together,” he ruled tersely as if he was offended by the request.

  I could tell that innocent until proven guilty didn’t mean shit in this old, wrinkled, cracker’s courtroom. We were two blacks in Hicktown, Kentucky.

  From the look of the jury and their expressions, once they heard the charges against us I knew we didn’t stand a chance. Even the few blacks on the jury looked at us with disgust.

  People like you two give all blacks a bad name! I imagined them saying.

  Yeah, it was a wrap, but I guessed the DA wasn’t so sure.

  My lawyer proposed to me, “The district attorney says that if you’ll plead guilty to malice murder and armed robbery, he’ll let your codefendant plead to conspiracy. You’ll get life plus sixty. She’ll get fifteen, with a parole eligibility in seven.”

  I didn’t wanna make those crackers’ job easy on ‘em. I knew what the outcome was gonna be, but I wanted to make them work to bam my fuckin’ back out.

  “I’ll need to discuss this with Inez,” I said.

  “Let me see if I can work it out.”

  They let us talk in a small conference room at the courthouse. I was handcuffed and shackled. Inez, who was still out on bond, was unrestrained.

  “You heard what they offering?” I asked from across the conference table that was between us.

  “You look good, boo,” she said, ignoring my question.

  “You do, too.” She was wearing a soft grey skirt suit, her hair was pulled to the back in a bun, looking like a sexy ass business executive.

  “I could try to dome you off right quick,” she suggested mischievously.

  “You know the bailiffs and our lawyers are right outside,” I reminded her. We could see them watching us through the partially closed door. “They’ll be up in here so fast…”

  “But at least I’ll get to do a lil’ somethin’ somethin’.”

  “You would try that shit fa real, wouldn’t you?” I chuckled.

  “Anything for you, boo,” she replied.

  Okay, we’ll see, I thought.

  “Inez, shawdy, trial is about to start in an hour or so. This shit ain’t no game. These devils ‘bout to try to slam our backs out. My fate is already sealed, either here or back in ATL. Now we gotta think about you.” Inez was looking at me
like she knew what was coming next. “Shawdy, they offering a plea. Did your attorney tell you about it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what’s up? Can you do a bid? You’ll be out in seven years.”

  “And you’ll get life and sixty years. No, boo, we’re in this together. Let’s take it to trial. If they were confident in their case, they wouldn’t offer a deal.”

  “I feel you, shawdy, but you don’t roll the dice with these crackers ‘cause if you crap out they gonna give you football numbers. I’m not tryna see you caught up like that. It was my slip with that bitch nigga, Lonnie, that caused all this shit, so let me carry the weight. Feel me?”

  “No! Please don’t ask me to sell you out,” Inez said, eyes watering up.

  “How is that selling me out? Fuck it, I’m not asking you to accept the plea, I’m telling you. If you love me, roll with me on this.”

  I had to put it to her like that; otherwise, she wouldn’t consider it. I knew she wasn’t afraid to do a bid, it was the life and sixty I’d get that she didn’t wanna accept.

  When I was led into the courtroom I saw all my peeps seated in the gallery: Ma Dukes, Raymond, my queen, Juanita, some of the Gods from our ciphers out West, Poochie, Lil’ T, Swag and some others from around our way. Inez’ mom was also there with Tamia and Bianca.

  Because I wasn’t handcuffed, I was able to deuce my peeps before taking a seat at the counsel’s table next to my lawyer. Inez was seated at the same table two chairs away. I looked at her and tapped my chest with my fist. She blinked back tears and put a fist to her heart.

  “Court’s in order. Please rise!” announced the bailiff as the judge entered and took the bench.

  After everyone sat back down, the judge cleared his throat and then read off a list of formalities.

  “I’ve been informed that there will be a plea in this case?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” all parties agreed in unison.

  I stood before the cracker first.

  After advising me that by pleading guilty I was giving up my right to appeal, blah, blah, blah, he asked how I plead to the charges of malice murder and armed robbery.

  “I plead guilty.”