Life (63 page)

the food trays through the food slot. I gave my food to the

Mexican. His long scrubby hair hung askew in his face, for the

first time he smiled at me, I noticed his teeth were rotten. I lit up

a cigarette and walked over to the window and looked out at the

world. I decided right then and there, I’d rather be carried by six

than judged by twelve. Come court day I had a surprise for the

world!

*****

320

Chapter T

wenty Five

Chapter T

wenty Five

“
The Day of Judgment”

–
Life –

Tuesday, November 11, two days after receiving Hope’s letter, the

CO hurried me to get dressed. Again the U.S. Marshals rushed me

to the back of a van. They were taking me to the courthouse. To

this day I have no idea how the media got wind of my court

appearances before my counsel and me.

As we pulled up to the federal building, I noticed the streets

were littered with media vans, trucks and a few huge trailers.

Cameras flashed, microphones were thrust into my face, my hair

was nappy and I hadn’t brushed my teeth or washed my face. An

attractive white woman with a microphone shoved it in my face as

I walked past.

“
Your boss, Willie Falcon, was convicted yesterday. If you’re

convicted today, do you intend to file an appeal?”

Momentarily stunned of learning of Falcons’ conviction, I

replied, “Lady, I don’t have a boss.” I tripped over the curb, the

Marshals stopped me from falling just as cameras flashed. I gri-

maced in pain as the shackles bit into my ankles with shark’s teeth.

Five minutes later I was seated around my attorneys. Their

smiles looked wry, but yet they welcomed me with warm

embraces. I could tell they were having a hard time trying to con-

ceal their fear. That day the courtroom was eerily quiet and near-

ly vacated. There were none of my father’s parishioners there; in

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fact, the only Black faces I saw were my defense team. Then it

dawned on me, that was the way they planned it. That’s why the

judge had them r ush me here at this hour without all the fanfare,

like some modern day legal lynching. I looked over at the prose-

cutor’s table, Scandels winked and waved at me. I will never for-

get that face. I knew right then and there, the fix was in.

Hope leaned over and whispered into my ear, “The jury has

reached a verdict.” Her voice cracked so bad I wondered if it hurt

for her to talk. She had a small rash on her bottom lip for some

reason and the makeup only seemed to make it look worse. Her

face was ashen and looked shrunken. She looked twice her tender

age of 26. I tore my eyes away from her. It hurt so bad to look at

her, instead I glanced over at the Bible on the table. Black Pearl

did as I asked of her and delivered the Bible to Hope. I sat there

uneasy as vaguely I could hear the murmur of voices around me.

I could feel Hope’s eyes boring holes through me. Finally, I

reached for the Bible. She grabbed my wrist, I pulled away and

turned a few pages. To my right I could see Scandels watching me

intensely. I found Jesus on page four hundred in Psalms. The pis-

tol was just as I had left it. It gleamed in the light. Now it was time

for me to serve my God. To serve the Lord in the only way I knew

how. I had found God in a prison cell. My God was the will to

want to survive, the kind of God that governs self. As I touched

the gun I felt that surge of power, that raw energy. If you’re going

to die, you might as well take somebody with you. It sounds crazy

to the average person, but unless you’ve faced a life or death situ-

ation you would never understand.

Hope tugged at my shirt. I turned and looked at her. Her eyes

were tearful. She gulped air and spoke barely audible, “Life ... I’m

dying.” She blinked her eyes, a tear fell. “I have no choice in this

matter, but you do. The only reason I brought you this Bible is

because, whom am I to deny you your freedom when I know the

criminal justice system is corrupted, besides what can they do to

me, but please, don’t do it.” I could hear the tremor in her voice.

Just then the jury foreman entered the room. The judge smiled.

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“
Have you reached a verdict?”

“
Yes,” the foreman responded.

As I sat there in that wooden chair, it felt like a noose was

being tightened around my neck, I was having trouble breathing.

The jury entered taking their seats. I turned my head to see Black

Pearl and Blazack enter the courtroom.

“
Will the defendant please stand and approach the bench.” As

I slowly rose, I looked between Hope and the Bible hesitantly, my

God, Jesus.

Please don’t do it,

Hope’s voice played in my mind with

a continuous echo

Life ... I am dying.

I swallowed the lump in my

throat disregarding the gun and looked at Hope. She’s dying? I

walked up to the podium feeling like a slave about to be sold.

The judge snarled, “Today justice will finally be served and

you young man will either pay a debt to society with your life or

be set free. I personally have my doubts about you and your char-

acter. I will say this, there is a place for you and your kind.” The

judge did not disguise his prejudice. “And for the record, the

motion you filed for prosecutorial misconduct against Mr.

Scandels is being denied, with it goes the motion for mistrial,” the

judge said with humor in his voice as he looked over at the pros-

ecutor’s table. Adrienne Greene was on her feet fuming.

“
Your Honor! Under the rules of Federal Procedure you can-

not address that issue at a federal sentencing.”

“
Sit down and shut up! If you don’t like it bring it up on

appeal with the Eleventh Circuit.”

“
Appeal?!” She scuffed indignantly with her eyebrows knotted

in anger. Right then I think it dawned on all of us sitting at the

defense table, if the judge was talking appeal, then it meant that I

was going to be found guilty. I heard my stepmother’s voice. I

turned around to see all the people from the church. The old

Black folks piled into the seats, with them came their humming.

The judge made a face that usually comes with a curse word. Right

then and there I decided, if they were going to take my life then I

was going to take somebody with me, that was if I couldn’t escape.

I glanced at the back of the courtroom, Blazack shrugged his

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shoulders as if to say,

whatever

.

“
Your Honor, may I please get my Bible?” I asked feeling my

palms starting to sweat. The judge chuckled like the devil. I’m sure

he thought he read fear into my actions, just like the thousands of

impoverished Blacks that are paraded in front of him for selling

small amounts of drugs and given large amounts time.

“
Yes, you may go get your Bible,” the judge said and then

added, “I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

I walked toward the defense table. Hope placed her hand over

her mouth as if willing herself not to scream at me to stop. I

grabbed the Bible and with it came the feeling of power, like an

adrenaline rush, for me the kind that only Jesus can bring. As I

walked back to the podium I glanced at Blazack. He nodded at

me,

whatever

.

*****

The jury foreman began to read the verdict. I opened my

Bible. The old folks were humming the gospel. My heart raced at

an accelerated pace. Like I said, I’d rather be carried by six than

judged by twelve. I’d rather be dead than spend the rest of my nat-

ural life in prison. For me, that was not living. So if it meant

shooting the judge in the head in cold blood and taking the jury

hostage, so be it. At least I was going out my way, on my terms,

and there was the slight chance that maybe I could actually get

away.

“
On the first count, conspiracy to traffic cocaine, we the jury

find the defendant, Life Thugstin,” as the foreman spoke I slight-

ly aimed the Bible at the judge. “We, the jury find the defendant.”

I looked over at Scandels, felt like my hand had a mind of it’s own.

My hand was itching to shoot him first.

“
We find the defendant …” the foreman dropped the paper he

was reading from. I had my hand on the gun. Finally he picked up

the paper and read, “We find the defendant, Life Thugstin, NOT

GUILTY.” The entire courtroom erupted in pandemonium. Black

folks acting like Lincoln had just freed the slaves. The judge

pounded his gavel frantically. I stood there as if frozen and then

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glanced back at Hope. The weary corners of her mouth tried to

smile but her eyes warned me. This thing was far from over.

The foreman cleared his throat, looked around the courtroom

nervously. “As of count two of the indictment CGE, Criminal

Enterprise.” This was the most serious charge–it carried life. The

foreman continued, “ NOT GUILY.” Again the courtroom erupt-

ed. I closed the Bible and along with it a chapter of my life. I

looked over at Scandels, his face was red, he was overcome with

grief, like he needed to be placed on suicide watch. The judge

pounded his gavel so hard it broke as Black folks ran around cele-

brating, hooping and hollering. The few reporters that arrived late

could only look in. I weaved through the crowd with fake Bible in

hand. Someone was trying to hug, touch me, and shake my hand.

I searched for Hope. She was nowhere to be found. Finally I was

able to reach the table with my lawyers. I saw Taya and Adrienne

bent down looking at something on the floor. I walked over and

to my utter shock it was Hope lying on the floor with a smile on

her face, her ebony eyes were glassy, distant, as if she were looking

at something we could not see. I dropped to my knees cradling her

frail body in my arms. Taya screamed as she held Hope’s wrist,

“
Ohmigod! She doesn’t have a pulse!” I gently wiped a tuft of hair

from Hope’s face. She smiled up at me, tried to laugh. She

coughed. I yelled to the top of my voice, “Pleeeze! Pleeeze!

Somebody call an ambulance!”

As I rocked Hope’s body in my arms tears spilled down my

cheeks falling onto her face. “We ...won,” Hope said in barely a

whisper.

“
No Hope! No Hope! You gotta stay with me. I don’t want to

live without you. I can’t win without you. Noooo!” I wailed as the

tears streaked my face.

“
Don’t cry,” she cooed. “Don’t think of it as death. Think of it

as life. I did what God intended of me to do. I gave you life, twice