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Authors: Tracy Brown

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BOOK: Criminal Minded
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the prodigal son
I was more upset than anybody when Papa died. Even though
we all loved the man who had been the only father figure we ever had, I was the one who needed him the most. All the years I spent locked up, Papa was the one who came to see me religiously. He never missed a visit, never complained about the phone bill when I called him collect. He kept money on my books. He was a good man and he held me down when I needed him most. I missed out on Papa’s Sunday dinners and his stories about the good ole days. I wasn’t there for so many years. Now he was gone. And it seemed like the spotlight was on Lamin.
Lamin paid for the funeral. He paid for the funeral reception. The limousines, the grave plot, the food, the liquor—it was all Lamin. He deserved credit for that. But it seemed like all anybody cared about was how Lamin was holdin’ up. Was Lamin okay? Poor Lamin. His moms had AIDS, Lucky left him, Papa died, and Lamin was all that mattered. But I felt different. Fuck that. Lamin was on top of the world. He had a beautiful wife. He had a business, his name in magazines and newspapers. He had a minimansion in New Jersey; he had cars, clothes, jewelry. He was livin’. The nigga had nothin’ to complain about.
On the other hand, I spent seven years in jail. While I was doin’ hard time, Lamin was breakin’ laws in and out of state. The nigga was hustlin’, sellin’ drugs, flippin’ weight, all while I was doin’ time—hard
time—just for defendin’ myself! I made a mistake when I was hardly seventeen years old. That mistake cost me so much. It took me away from my mother, while Lamin was takin’ his moms for granted. I spent most of my adult life behind bars. I was the one with no future, no options. I was the one who couldn’t get a job unless Lamin gave it to me. I wasn’t worth a million dollars. I wasn’t nothin’ compared to Lamin. I was tired of hearin’ about his problems. That nigga didn’t know what problems were!
When I found out that Doug was dead, the first thing I thought was that Zion must have killed him. After talking to Doug that night, I knew that he had a beef with the nigga. Neither of us liked Zion. And then, right after my boy Doug left my house, he was killed on his way to Keesha’s crib. I knew it had to be Zion. And that was the final straw. First he managed to infiltrate my family—he got Olivia pregnant and everyone was welcoming him to the family like he was blood. And now he had killed my boy. Zion was becoming a headache. And Lamin’s dumb ass was too high off life to notice. Lamin never should have been the one to make all the money and get all the fame. In my heart I felt like all of that should have been mine.
Not that I was jealous or nothin’. I was just tired of everybody actin’ like the sun rose and set with Lamin. He took care of everybody—even my moms when I was away. So everybody kinda looked up to him. I wasn’t takin’ handouts from him no more. I was gonna do my own thing and make my own way. I’m a man and a man stands on his own two feet. I was back on the block, and I was gonna make my own rags-to-riches story and show everybody that if Lamin could do it, I could do it better.
Olivia took her grandfather’s death really hard. I helped her through it and watched her womb grow with my child inside. I loved her so much, watching her lose her sexy abs to a bulging belly for me. Olivia was still beautiful with the extra pounds she gained. I was on top of
the world. But her family had suffered a couple of big blows. Her moms had AIDS, and I felt terrible about that. Lamin never really talked about his mother much. I got the impression that he wasn’t close to her, and that Olivia was the one who really had room in her heart for the woman. But then when he found out his moms was sick, I could see a genuine sadness in Lamin’s eyes. I could tell that he felt helpless, and my heart went out to him and to Olivia.
One night, I sat between Olivia’s legs on the living room floor in my apartment as she braided my hair. I was telling her about my own mother and the pain I knew she was feeling.
I said, “When my moms died, I was four years old. I remember sit— tin’ in front of the window in the livin’ room waitin’ for her to come home. I was too young to understand that death was permanent. I didn’t believe that I was
never
gonna see my moms again.”
Olivia was listening very closely. It seemed like she could identify with what I was sayin’ so I continued. “My mother wasn’t always there. She used to leave me home alone for days at a time, and I had to rummage through the kitchen cabinets and find somethin’ to eat. She was getting high all the time, and she was only focused on her next fix. I was too young to go to school at the time, but I still missed out on a lot of what the other kids was doin’. I would sit in the window lookin’ at the other kids playin’ in the park with their mothers sittin’ on the bench watchin’ them. I didn’t have shit like that. I never went to the park with my moms or to the movies or no shit like that. I was raising myself, learnin’ how to make mayonnaise sandwiches because we ain’t had no meat, and syrup sandwiches and shit like that. Sugar water. But even though my moms wasn’t the typical mother, I still loved her. When she finally did come home after goin’ on one of her binges, my whole insides lit up because I loved her so much. I knew she was sick. Didn’t know she was on drugs, but even as young as I was, I could tell she was sick. But she was so beautiful and so softspoken. I just loved it when she came home! But when she died, and the social worker came to the house and told me that my mother was never comin’ back, I didn’t believe that bitch. I sat right in that window
lookin’ for my moms, waitin’ for her to come home. After a while the bitch dragged me out of there kickin’ and screamin’ and I started getting bounced around from house to house.”
I realized that I had been talkin’ for a while and I felt kinda embarrassed. Olivia was hangin’ on my every word. Even though she was the one person who I felt most comfortable opening up to, I rarely spoke this much about my past. She must have sensed the fact that I thought I was talkin’ too much, so she said, “Go on. I’m listening.”
I shrugged. “Well, I said all that to say that I understand how you feel about your mother. No matter how old you are, I guess it still hurts the same when you lose the person who brought you into the world.”
Olivia sighed. “I always knew we had a lot in common, Zion. My mother was never on drugs, but I guess men and money were her narcotics. She wasn’t gone for days at a time, but even when she was home she wasn’t there. So, it sounds like we both were destined to lose our mothers the same way. Little by little. And that shit ain’t easy. I feel like every day I’m losing more and more of her. She’s got the runs all the time, she’s getting sores all over her body, it’s just terrible. And what’s crazy is that I’m the only one there for her. Lamin sends her money and pays for her nurse, but he has a hard time seeing her like this.”
“So, Lamin don’t go by to see your moms that much?”
She shook her head. “Not really. He did, when we first found out she had the virus. But as she starts
looking
like she has AIDS, it gets harder and harder for him to handle it. So now, he doesn’t go over there much at all. I can’t really blame him. But that just makes it harder on me, because I have to be there all the time. My grandmother helps as much as she can and so does Aunt Inez. But it’s just a lot, you know?”
I nodded. I knew just what she meant. The whole situation made me recall the kind of emotions I felt when my own mother died. And now, as if all this wasn’t enough, my criminal activities were making front-page news. I knew that the walls were closing in on me and I
needed to get my shit together fast. I owed it to Olivia and the baby—to Lamin’s whole family—to leave the drug game alone. But I also found out that Lamin’s cousin Curtis was not happy to have me around at all. More and more, he made it painfully obvious that he was not a fan of mine. I knew that Curtis was a low-level hustler. He wasn’t makin’ no major cheese. Just a wannabe baller. But he was calling me shiesty in the streets, and that was makin’ me look bad. Plus, he was taking over the same customers, the same territory that I had abandoned. I took an official position at Shootin’ Crooks. I was now playing the dual role of Chief Operating Officer on paper, and fifty-fifty partner behind the scenes.
Few people knew the truth about my true affiliation with Lamin. Few people knew that Lamin had once been as much of a revered drug lord as I was. So when the headlines started speculating about his involvement in drug trafficking, shakedowns, and murders, it surprised everybody I knew that I was under scrutiny But I didn’t expect them to make Lamin guilty by association.
I got another visit from Burgher and Baldwin. The detectives approached me after one of Olivia’s prenatal visits. I put her in the car, and took a short walk with the two men. I didn’t want to add to her stress while she was carrying my child. Detective Burgher dove right in.
“We know you killed him, Zion. We have a witness. His girlfriend was looking out the window. She saw you. Why don’t you turn yourself in before we have to bring you down, publicly.”
I said nothing. Detective Baldwin was playing “bad cop” this time. “You got a real fuckin’ chip on your shoulder, Williams! Here we are tryin’ to throw you a lifeline, and you just look the other way. We’re willing to work with you if you work with us. Tell us about Lamin. What was his role? Where did he get the money to start this fuckin’ company? Huh? Where did he get it? If you don’t tell us, we’re gonna assume he got it from you. But, you don’t strike me as a benefactor. No. You didn’t put up
all
of that money. Tell us about Lamin. We’ll work with you.”
“Fuck you.” I stopped walking. “Stop fuckin’ playin’ that divide and conquer bullshit. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fuck me, huh? Fuck me.” Baldwin nodded as if letting my words sink in. “Okay. Okay.” Detective Baldwin turned and walked away, leaving me standing with Burgher’s ugly ass.
“You’re making a mistake, Zion. You really are.”
“I’ll remember that,” I said. I turned and walked away.
“Yes, you will, Mr. Williams,” I heard Burgher mumble. “Yes, you will.”
Zion was crazy! I read the headline on the front page of the
Daily News
:
MURDER OF REPUTED DRUG LORD IN STATEN ISLAND LINKED TO POLICE INVESTIGATION OF RAP MUSIC PRODUCER
I knew who it was before I read any further. I knew it in my gut. I had heard about Doug’s murder and wondered what Lamin and Zion knew about it. Doug had spent many a night at our house in Brooklyn back in the day. When Lamin was still in the game, Doug was one of his soldiers that became like a member of the family. As I read the article, I wondered how Zion could be so fucking careless. The police had a description of his car, there was an unnamed eyewitness who was cooperating with the police, and it seemed like just a matter of time before he was caught. How the hell could he be so stupid?
I shook my head, amazed and saddened by the prospect of Lamin going down for this. He and Zion were usually so careful. I thought for a second about calling Lamin to make sure he was alright. Then the phone rang, snapping me out of my trance, and I answered it.
“Lucky, what time you gonna be ready?” I smiled at the sound of Jalil’s voice. “Please tell me you finished packin’.”
“Yeah. I’m finishing all of that now. I’ll be ready by the time you get here.”
“Good. I ain’t tryin’ to hear you bein’ late as usual.”
I laughed because I did have a reputation for being late all the time. “Hey, good things come to those who wait.”
Jalil laughed. “Well, if you ain’t ready by the time I get there, you’ll be waitin’ at home while I’m layin’ out in the sun in Negril.”
“You know what, Jalil? You would be so miserable if you went without me. I’m the life of the party, and you know it.”
“Well, the party’s on Flight 711, so make sure your pretty ass is packed.”
I promised to be ready and we hung up. I put down the paper and went to take a shower. Jalil had invited me to go with him to Jamaica for the Hot 77 FM Summer Quest and I had to finish packing. We were taking our first vacation together. After I slept with Lamin after Papa’s funeral, I distanced myself from Jalil. I had told him that I needed space because I thought Lamin and I had a chance at reconciliation. But when I realized that it was over, I needed time to grieve the relationship all over again. But Jalil didn’t let up. He called me and told me that he cared for me. I was honest enough to tell him that I had been to Papa’s funeral, and that seeing Lamin had opened up a can of worms. Jalil never asked me if I had slept with Lamin, and I didn’t volunteer the information. But he told me that he was sick without me, and I found myself anxious to be with him again. So, I was giving happiness with Jalil another try. I realized that I had to stop worrying about Lamin. He was no longer my problem.
I felt so helpless. I couldn’t bring Papa back, my moms was dying slowly, the woman I loved was gone, and in her place I had another woman pregnant with my child. A child I wasn’t even sure I was ready for. Then to add insult to injury, Zion started buggin’ the fuck out. It wasn’t long before the police showed up on his doorstep.
Zion was arrested and questioned, but he exercised his right to
remain silent. I got him a lawyer—one that Dream recommended—and after spending the night in jail, Zion was seen in court. I posted his $500,000 bail the same day. When he was released, we drove back to the Shootin’ Crooks offices in Midtown Manhattan, and we rode the whole way in silence. I was irate. We got to the office on West Fifty-Seventh Street and parked. In the elevator on the way to my office on the seventeenth floor, I looked straight ahead, never said a word to Zion, never looked at him. When the elevator stopped, we exited, and walked toward my office. My secretary, Sara, called out to me but I kept walking. “Your cousin is in your office, Lamin—” I heard her, but I kept going.
When we got to my office, I saw Curtis sittin’ in my high-back, leather desk chair. He stood up when I entered, and I was too pissed to even comment on the balls he had to be in my office when I wasn’t there. I just sat in my chair and reached under my desk. I entered the combination and opened the safe. Then I reached in and pulled out two large stacks of money, placed them on the desk in front of Zion and sat back.
“That’s your portion of the money you invested in Shootin’ Crooks. I’m buyin’ you out.”
Zion pushed the money back toward me. “I ain’t takin’ that shit, Lamin. I ain’t tryin’ to get bought out …”
“It ain’t your decision no more, Zion! What the fuck is on your mind, nigga? What kinda bullshit is you on? This shit ain’t a game, Zion!”
“I ain’t playin’ no games, La! You think I wanted to get locked up?”
“You must have!” I lowered my voice so the staff wouldn’t hear me. “Why else would you kill that muthafucka yourself? Why would you drive your own car and leave your face open for people to see you?”
“I’ma take care of Keesha …”
“I don’t wanna hear that shit, Zion. Keesha is an eyewitness. Don’t you think they’re expecting you to go after her? Where’s your head at?”
“Lamin, don’t worry about that shit. Why you blowin’ this thing all out of proportion?”
To my surprise, Curtis jumped into the conversation. “Ain’t nobody blowin’ shit out of proportion. You fucked up. Simple as that.”
Zion frowned and turned toward Curtis. “What the fuck does this have to do with you. You need to mind your business.”
Curtis shook his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong, partner. This is my business, because it’s
family
business. You are not family. And you fucked up. So it’s time for you to go.”
I sat dumbfounded. I didn’t expect Curtis to say that. Zion laughed. “Family? Oh, you’re Lamin’s family, huh? Where were you when he got shot? Where were you when he wanted to start this company? Your ass was in a cell, nigga. Family ain’t always blood, you know what I’m sayin’? And I been more family to Lamin than you have.”
Curtis was pissed. “Nah, muthafucka, you
ain’t
family. You’re a business associate. And now you’re bad for fuckin’ business. Doug was more family than you, nigga. We grew up with Doug. You came out of the fuckin’ blue. You walk around with your swagger like you running shit, like you got it all under control. But you fucked up big time now, muthafucka. How you think it’s gonna look when the DA finds out that Lamin paid your bail? You don’t think that shit is gonna make him look bad to be associated with a criminal?”
“Last time I checked, you was a criminal, too, muthafucka. With a felony conviction. Seven years hard time in prison, you fuckin’ hypocrite. Don’t make me crack your jaw open, muthafucka!”
Curtis got heated and charged over to Zion. Zion stood up and before Curtis knew what hit him, Zion had clocked him right in the mouth. My cousin stumbled a little, but he caught his balance and stood his ground, ready to do battle. I got between them, and I felt just as caught in the middle as I actually was. Curtis and I were family. I grew up with Curtis at my side from day one. Zion was my friend, there was no question about that. He stepped into Curtis’ shoes when
my cousin was away, and I never had a reason to doubt his loyalty. I was not prepared for the two of them to go toe-to-toe.
“Everybody, calm the fuck down!” I said. Curtis was fuming, and Zion seemed ready for anything. I looked at my cousin. “Let me handle business, and I’ll get up with you later.”
Curtis looked offended and he took a step back. “You want
me
to leave, Lamin?”
Zion laughed. “Yeah, nigga, he wants
you
to leave so we can handle business. Get the fuck out.”
I shot Zion a look of warning and turned back to Curtis. “Just let me straighten this shit out …”
“You do whatchu gotta do, Lamin. I’m out.” Curtis stormed out, and I stood there feelin’ guilty. But I didn’t have time to babysit Curtis and soothe his bruised ego. I had a serious headache and Zion was makin’ me worry that the empire I built was about to come crashin’ down around me.
I sat back down in my seat and held my head in my hands, trying to relieve the tension.
“What the fuck, Zion? Why you gettin’ so sloppy?”
Zion sat back and sighed. “La, maybe it
was
sloppy. I just had to get that nigga any way I could …”
“Why couldn’t somebody else do it, then? You got goons for shit like that, Zion!”
“Yeah, but the shit with Doug was personal. He was snitchin’, Lamin. How you think the DA knows how involved you were in the game? Nobody was investigating you until Doug got arrested. Then all of a sudden the cops are following me, the detectives investigatin’ you. I needed to pull that trigger myself, La. I didn’t care about what car I was drivin’ or who saw me. But I got this shit under control, Lamin. Let me handle my side of the shit and you handle your side.”
“That’s just the point, Zion. I can’t handle my side of this shit unless you keep your side quiet. If you’re out there killin’ muthafuckas and intimidatin’ witnesses, that’s gonna shed a spotlight on you. When a spotlight is on you, it’s a dangerous situation because it leaves everything
open for niggas to start speculating about how we’re affiliated.” I poured myself a glass of Hennessy. “Everybody knows we’re friends. So when you’re in trouble it gets me in trouble. You’re fuckin’ me up, Zion.”
Zion nodded. “I got you. Don’t worry about it, La. I’ll make sure it stays quiet from now on.” He picked up the two stacks of money still sittin’ on the desk and threw them at me. I caught them one by one. “Keep that shit safe for me, nigga. When I’m ready for you to buy me out, you’ll be the first to know it.” He smiled at me and extended his hand. I shook it.
“Thanks, La.”
I said, “You
are
my family, nigga.”
Zion shrugged. “That’s good to hear. But you didn’t have to tell me that. Your cousin’s the one who needs the pep talk. You got your hands full with that guy.” Then he left.
A year later, Zion walked. I couldn’t believe it. Zion pulled it off. Headlines once again featured my best friend and his life of crime.
MUSIC EXEC CLEARED IN CONNECTION WITH MURDER
A man on trial in Supreme Court for the alleged murder of reputed drug lord Douglas Jones in 1997, was set free by Judge Micheline Carter yesterday. The surprising decision came after the prosecution’s key witness disappeared.
For months, the prosecution tried in vain to find the witness who implicated Zion Williams in the shooting that took place outside of a Staten Island public housing complex.
However, prosecutors were unable to locate Keesha Stanley, who told authorities that she saw Williams open fire on Henderson as she sat looking from her apartment window. Despite her claim, no other eyewitnesses came forward to implicate Williams.
Prosecutors told Supreme Court Justice Carter that the disappearance of their key witness was not coincidental.
Speculation abounded that Williams was involved in the witness’ disappearance. Still, Carter dismissed the case, citing a lack of evidence.
Zion Williams, appearing relieved, maintained his innocence as he exited the court a free man.
I was happy for Zion. I was happy for my sister who gave birth to a baby girl with a name that only my sister would give her. My niece was named Adiva. She was gorgeous. Her complexion was like soft caramel and her pretty eyes were so bright and alive. She had her father’s curly hair, and her smile was as radiant as her mother’s. But best of all, I welcomed my own son into the world. Jordan was a big baby, weighing in at ten pounds three ounces. I was so proud of my son, so happy that things were looking up. At last.
BOOK: Criminal Minded
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