Alibi II (7 page)

“What, kid, ain’t you happy?”

“Manslaughter? They still found me guilty,” he said, feeling as if all was lost.

“Yeah, but, kid, trust me, the district attorney’s office charged you with murder one. You beat a murder one charge, we got it down to manslaughter and aggravated assault, what’s wrong with you? Nard you still have your life.” DeSimone didn’t care if he sat for the next couple of years, as far as he was concerned, the case was a win. Nard wouldn’t be spending the rest of his life locked behind bars. Instead, he’d spend three, maybe five years tops in a state correctional facility. DeSimone didn’t understand why he wasn’t happy. “You got the best deal you could’ve gotten, kid, the absolute best.”

Behind him, Nard could hear his girlfriend and his mother. He turned around and smiled at Beverly, who couldn’t hold back tears of joy.

“You coming home, baby,” said Donna, waving her fist in the air as she hugged Beverly, who felt faint at the sound of the words.

His girlfriend, Crystal, hugged their baby, Dayanna, smiling and waving the baby’s hand at him.

Wink and his family silently rose from the back of the courtroom, making their way out the double wooded doors and into the corridor. Wink turned around and looked at Nard’s family hugging one another and jumping for joy.
It ain’t over, nigga, you’ll see, an eye for an eye, motherfucker.

Lester Giles’s wife, Euretha, followed behind them. The verdict didn’t affect her as did the loss or better yet, gain, of Lester. However, she followed it through like she was supposed to; after all, Lester was her husband.

Lucille Davis exited the courtroom not far behind. She couldn’t move as fast as some of the other people, but she slowly took her time and filed out the double doors of the courtroom.

Lance’s mother, who hadn’t missed one day of the trial, also followed the line of folks out the door. She, too, being an older lady, a single mother of two, took in the testimony of Bernard Guess and listened with remorse at what her son had been accused of. And to think, the man who took her son’s life had beaten the murder case. Justice, for her, had no name. The trial had taken its toll and the truth of her son being a would-be burglar lay heavy and brought her heart a sea of emotions. The thought of raising a son who would turn out to be a cold-blooded murderer was too much for her to bear. Ms. Robertson had no intention of returning to the courtroom, even though the defense attorney had asked her to be present at the sentencing and wanted her on the stand to speak on behalf of her son. She didn’t think she could do it. What could she say that would make a difference? She honestly believed there was nothing more that should be said. Now, thank God, it was done and over and everybody could just put it all behind them.

Tommy Delgado and Merva Ross watched as the courtroom dispersed. He walked toward the front of the courtroom, an uneasy smile spread across his face.

“What the hell happened? That guy is just gonna walk, scot-free?” said Delgado, not so much angry as he was disappointed and ready to pounce all over Zone. Ross held his arm, making sure her partner didn’t end up in trouble.

“What can I say? I thought we had it. I was wrong. Once we had the girl, and her testimony, I assumed the case was in the bag. Look, I know you guys work hard out there, risking your lives to keep the streets safe, but we can’t win them all, right?” Zone shrugged, not really caring one way or another.

His disconnect was apparent and Tommy faded for a moment back to the house on Somerset Street, to where the bodies of Saunta Davis and her son, DaShawn, lay sprawled in pools of blood, the little boy already dead, the mother barely breathing.

“Come on, Delgado, you see it every day out there, right. They just keep killing each other,” Zone said, a confused look on his face. “Don’t worry, we’ll get ’em next time,” he quickly added, patting Tommy on the shoulder as he grabbed his briefcase off the rectangular table and headed toward the doors. He knew the media would be waiting for him. Win or lose, he still got his name in the paper.

“Yeah, next time, you fucking piece of shit, why don’t you do your fucking job,” Tommy muttered to himself before he and Merva walked out the doors of the courtroom to a pack of thirsty reporters.

As usual, Liddles was parked in back of the lot across from City Hall. Karla-Jae crossed the street, got into the van, and reported of the events in the courtroom to her brother as she usually did.

“He beat the case after all,” sighed Liddles.

Liddles’s smile spoke a thousand words. He was glad Nard beat the case for killing the guys who were responsible for killing his brother. But, even with justice playing her merciful part, it wasn’t enough. Poncho was still gone, his mother’s heart was still broken, and his pain was no less.

Liddles had spent every day following Wink. Like a peeping Tom, he was watching carefully. Wink could forget about it. 
Liddles
 had Wink’s entire itinerary, drug house, drug stash, baby momma’s crib, baby momma’s job, momma’s home, momma’s job, sister’s school, brother’s wife’s mother’s cousin’s house, the whole family had been scoped out.

Then there was the other one, Lance Robertson, Jeremy Tyler’s cohort. It turned out, Lance was a loner of sorts, and the only family he had was his mom’s, Mrs. Robertson, and Liddles already had her ammo. He knew where she worked, where she went to school, what time she ate dinner, what time she left the house every day. He had followed her enough to know how and when to make a move on her if he wanted to. She was a goner, too. Any of them could be got and would be. It was all a matter of timing. When it was all said and done, they would wish they had never laid one finger on his brother, Poncho’s head.

Wink, on the other hand, was ready to spit fire. He was so heated, he couldn’t contain his anger.

“How the fuck they gonna let this nigga off like that?” asked a troubled Wink. His anger was getting the best of him. He could no longer contain himself. The only comfort he had was knowing that no matter where Nard went, he could be got in prison. Wink had family throughout Pennsylvania’s prison system, and wherever Nard was sent to do his time, there would be people on the inside waiting to take him out.

“Wink, calm down,” said Leslee, trying to get Wink to sit with her on the sofa.

“Leslee, that fucking judge and jury let that nigga walk, they let him walk,” said Wink, unable to believe the verdict and unable to believe that Nard was getting off with a slap on the wrist manslaughter charge. “He’ll be home in less than five for manslaughter. That’s nothing after what he did to my brother.”

“Wink, just calm down.”

“No, I won’t calm down. We’ll see. This nigga thinks he’s going to get away with killing my brother, that shit just ain’t gonna happen,” Wink said, picking up his nine-millimeter and making sure his clip was fully loaded.

“Where you going?” asked Leslee, scared of her brother and what he might do.

“I’m gonna show that motherfucker, Nard, how it feels to have his family fucked with, that’s what I’m going to do,” said Wink as he stuffed the gun in his hoodie and slammed the front door behind him.

“The social worker’s bringing me another baby. All the paperwork is complete and there’s nothing really left for them to do,” said Donna, quickly adding, “I’m getting one of them abandoned babies and the news is coming so you got to watch Channel 10 tonight.”

“For real?” asked Beverly, truly amazed Donna would be interviewed on the evening news.

“Wow, Donna, this is big.” Beverly smiled, then added, “You hear that, Uncle Ray Ray? Donna’s gonna be on the evening news.”

“That’s really something. And they interviewing you?” he said, shaking his head at the shame of it all.

“Yeah, you know, only a crazy person would abandon a baby like that.” She sighed, not understanding what kind of person would leave a baby in the cold.

“They pay good money?” asked Beverly, thinking about getting her a foster child, too.

“Girl, they pay real good money, but you know, you get more for the handicapped ones,” she said, serious as a heart attack.

“How much more?” asked Beverly.

“I don’t know, ’cause I ain’t got time for no motherfucker can’t walk and talk and shit,” she said, biting into a piece of fried chicken. “But, it’s a lot more, girl, a lot.”

“And the state be giving these children to you?” asked Uncle Ray Ray, as if he needed to write a strongly worded letter to the Department of Human Services.

“Yeah, and?”

“Shit, when they find out, this shit liable to be on the evening news and not you.”

“Look, I’m good to them children, where would they be without me?”

“Probably living with a kind family who would be taking proper care of them and not pocketing state assistance for Jheri curl money,” said Ray Ray, knowing he was starting trouble, as he liked to.

“Don’t worry about my Jheri curl, Ray,” she said, fluffing her Jheri curl mane, looking like Michael Jackson back in the day. “Look, my kids wouldn’t be nowhere if it wasn’t for me,” she said, lighting a Newport. “Shit, I don’t see you in here making a difference in a child’s life, Ray!” she snapped.

“I don’t see you making no difference neither,” he teased her back.

“Shut up,” she said, blowing a spitball from her mouth that she had sat there and rolled between her fingers from a torn corner of a piece of napkin.

“I bet the SPCA won’t even let you have a cat. You know god damn well, she done tricked them people into giving her them kids,” he said to his niece, shaking his head as if it really was a shame.

“You know, your uncle gets on my nerves,” Donna said as she kissed her friend good-bye.

“Bye, Ray,” she said, walking past him and out the door.

“Bye yourself,” he said, watching her twitching her ass from side to side as Beverly closed and locked the door.

“Them people is crazy paying Donna all that good money. I feel sorry for them poor babies. Damn, they need they families bad,” noted Uncle Ray Ray as he sat down in his favorite chair to watch television.

Everything was working out for Beverly and her family. Even though Nard was going to prison, his lawyer said he didn’t expect him to serve more than a three-year sentence. That was a far cry from the rest of his life.

She finished dinner and took Uncle Ray Ray’s plate and set it in the sink.

A banging sound at the door broke her reverie.

“Coming,” she said. Looking out a square window in the middle of the door, she saw her cousin Chris.

“Hey, cousin, is my dad here?”

“Umm, yeah, come on in. He’s in the living room,” said Beverly as she led Chris down the hall.

The three of them filled Chris in on the trial and the verdict.

Beverly made some apple cinnamon spice tea and told him all the details of the trial as they sipped tea in the living room.

Chris was Uncle Ray Ray’s son, and he and Beverly had grown up together. She could remember many days playing endlessly with her cousins as a young child growing up. Her father, 
Benjamin
 Guess, whom everyone lovingly called Benny, had died, and Uncle Ray Ray shortly thereafter needed a place to stay. Having four sons didn’t help his situation, as none of his own children were in a position to care for him. And unfortunately, they could barely take care of themselves. Raymond, Jr., his oldest, was currently serving time in prison. And Ralph was living with his girlfriend in her mother’s basement. Charlie was shacked up with his girlfriend of fifteen years. And while he owned his home and was the only one out of the four who had his life together, he had no room or ability to care for his father. His girlfriend, Karen, came with two children, and over the past fifteen years, she had managed to have six more, for a total of eight kids, who were worse than Bey Bey kids themselves. And then there was Chris, the youngest of Uncle’s Ray’s children, and while everyone believed he had turned out to be the most promising, no one had yet discovered that Chris had developed a terrible addiction to smoking cocaine.

“Jesus, Lord almighty, I don’t know what to say,” he said, shaking his head as he sat down in his favorite recliner, looking at his lottery tickets. “It’s always something, ain’t that girl supposed to be staying here? What’s her name, with that baby she got?”

“Crystal?” asked Beverly, knowing who he was speaking of.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“She said she was going to get some more clothes and would be back later on.”

“Lord have mercy, that baby of hers just cries all night long.”

“Really, I heard nothing.”

“Umm, Dad, can I talk to you for a minute in the kitchen?” asked Chris, his adrenaline pumping at the thought of getting some money in his sweaty palms.

“Whatever it is that you want to talk about doesn’t have anything to do with my money, does it?” asked Uncle Ray Ray, just about tired of Chris taking his pocket money. “’Cause if it is, I don’t think we need to be conversating no more.”

Before Chris could speak, the front door opened and Crystal made her way inside, toting the baby, a baby bag, and a small duffel bag filled with more of her things.

“I’m here,” she called out in the foyer.

“We’re in here,” called out Beverly from the living room.

Uncle Ray Ray got up out of his chair to follow Chris into the kitchen, just as a bullet shattered the living room window, followed by a second, then a third, and what appeared to be a shower of gunfire, a barrage of bullets spraying the house.

“Oh, my God!” screamed Crystal, holding the baby.

“GET DOWN!” yelled Uncle Ray Ray, immediately dropping to the floor. “GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR, NOW!”

Everyone’s instincts for safety seemed to follow Uncle Ray Ray’s command and they all ducked for safety behind walls, furniture, and whatever they could. Chris dove into the kitchen headfirst like a runner diving for home plate. Crystal fell to the floor, her baby screaming as she cupped her underneath her body as best she could. Uncle Ray Ray slithered behind his trusty recliner, and just as the bullets stopped, a car engine could be heard as tires screeched down the block.