Black Lives Matter

by De'Kari

  “Fuck I’m supposed to say? Mothafucka, you still the police! I ain’t about to say shit to you.” Gunz reached into his pockets to retrieve two fat envelopes and handed them to Urena. “Except your salary just doubled, so you better keep us ahead of the curve.”

  Gunz turned around and walked back to the truck. He had felt the same thing that Urena felt. Someone was watching them. But, he figured if it was some niggaz, they would’ve come lighting shit up. He knew that meant it was the police or the feds. Since a nigga couldn’t get in trouble talking, he figured they were there for the lieutenant. More reason to learn what he had wanted to tell him.

  When he climbed into the truck he was behind tinted windows. For the first time he looked around. He knew he was wasting his time. If it was the feds they’d be using some of the best binoculars there was.

  “Drive around awhile. We had unwanted guests at this meeting, so I wanna make sure ain’t nobody following us.” He instructed as he reached for one of the blunts that were already rolled in the ashtray.

  “Aight, brah brah.” A.J. knew the routine. If a mothafucka was following, them he would be dizzy by the time A.J. finished taking them on turns, curves and circles.

  “You think it’s some funk or them people?” Big Rocc asked Gunz while looking at him through the rear view.

  In response, Gunz told them everything that was just told to him.

  **** N. D. ****

  War Room

  The room was quiet. Everyone sat around the table, lost in a thousand thoughts, trying to decipher and digest what they were just told.

  Murda and Styles, T’Rida’s first and second in command were busy analyzing the situation and weighing out options. Gunz looked over at Cantelope and French Tip. True, they had been there from the jump, but Clark was their blood. Because of that, he didn’t trust them. He hadn’t wanted them present at all, but the She-Wolves only listened to them. With that being the case, Dok insisted on their presence. Gunz let his hand trace over his Desert Eagle just for reassurances.

  “Look, I know that I know my niggaz well enough that I can speak for us without question. We don’t give a fuck about da police, State of Federal. My nigga we rock one-man nuke, but we ride till da wheels fall off. Wolf Pack ain’t scared of shit.” Finally, Stone Cold spoke up breaking the silence and getting everybody’s attention

  Next to him, Johnny Spitz just sat nodding his head in agreement. At first, he wasn’t going to talk, there was no need. Johnny Spitz didn’t talk. His .50 cal talked for him. But, he figured this shit needed to be solidified.

  “Rogue, when niggaz signed up to smack shit, mothafuckas ain’t make no exception foe the police. Dem mothafuckas can get it, too! Matter of fact, nigga , anybody can get it!”

  “The question ain’t do we fuck wit it still or not. The question is, how do we go about doing it from here?” There was neva a question of whether. would be there with his big cousin or not. He would follow Gunz to hell and back. His team of wolves would do the same thing.

  “What about you two? Y’all awfully quiet over there.” Everyone followed his gaze over to French Tip and Cantelope, who were sitting there looking like they were waiting for their laundry to dry.

  “That’s because there ain’t shit to talk about. You lead, and we’ll follow.” the smile on French Tips face and soothing tone of her voice were a contradiction to the fire blazing behind her pupils.

  “Just like that?” Gunz was thrown off by her comment, he had expected her to go against him.

  A confrontation of some sort was bound to happen. It was expected. Everyone just sat or stood back and let it unfold. “One thing you ain’t got to question or worry about is my loyalty. You, T’Rida and my brother started this. I pledged allegiance and loyalty to this and to you three. Regardless of what’s going on now, that pledge supersedes it. You have my loyalty as long as you don’t cross the line.” She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table so Gunz could get a better look at her before she said the rest.

  “Tut knew the rules of the game just like we know them. That’s just how it is. Believe me, somebody will answer for that shit that y’all did to my mother! Other than that, we’re good.”

  Dok took that as his que to step in. Some progress was better than none. He didn’t know what transpired with her mother, but he would find out. Judging from the look the sistah was giving Gunz, Dok sure didn’t want to be the one who did whatever it was when she came to collect that debt.

  “Everyone’s sentiments and potions are appreciated and understood. But this is not a test of loyalty and honor. Nor is this something that any of you need to feel the need to stand up for.

  My organization and family have one struggle and that is the plight of our people, One Aim. That’s the liberation of any and all Afrikans from the concentration camps throughout the United States.

  And we only have One Goal and that’s over throw the United States fascists government. This is a fight that has been going on since our people were kidnapped and brought to this God forsaken country. But, the war of the new Afrikan Revolutionaries has been waging since the seventies.”

  “We are not the terrorist or communist that they label us. Although, we do believe in some of the same theories and ideological practices of the late Chinese Communist Revolution up under chairman Mao-Tse Tung. We are the Black underclass of America.

  We are the chosen ones to be a part of the New Afrikan Revolutionary Army, fighting to install and bring to power the New Afrikan Democratic Revolution. A government of the people, for the people and by the people.” Dok looked over at his two sons with admiration and pride. They had grown into two fine young men.

  He pointed at them and continued addressing the group.

  “To understand our struggle is to understand us. We were bred to do what we do with an understanding that our very own life sentence inside of one of these concentration camps or even death in our struggle is our end…”

  Stone Cold cut him off, “And what do you think we got to look forward to, a white house with a picket fence?”

  “I do not aim to ridicule you, my young brother. I only point out that we’ve taken an oath of death for what we believe in. Most of you signed on to Neva Die knowing that death was a possibility, but the number one motivator was money. Money for whatever reason and I respect that. Before I became a revolutionary, I was a street nigga too.

  “I’m sure that by now you guys have accumulated fortunes. If you wanted to walk away and live life, you could with that right now. Even if we wanted to, we don’t have that luxury. For us, money is only a tool to aid us in the war and we will fight until the battle is won or until we die.” Dok continued to make an excuse for them.

  No one in the room looked phased by Dok’s address. A few did hone looks of respect. To most of them, the Black Guerilla Family was just some old prison gang. Mostly made up of old washed up dope fiends. The streets didn’t talk about the B.G.F. in admirable terms.

  The thing that Dok was overlooking was the fact that before the birth of Neva Die, most of these niggaz didn’t have a hope in life, let alone a future. They were bastards of the ghetto that the world turned their back on and forgot about. Fucking with Neva Die, they’d become somebody. They became legends! This was their family. This was all they knew.

  “Ain’t no sense debating what it is and what it ain’t. We already know what it is. It’s Neva Die! The only question is how are we about to go about doing this? Cause WE…” Gunz emphasized by swinging his arms around the room, “gone do this!”

  **** N. D. ****

  Chapter XVIII

  Union Landing Square, Union City

  It was taking the bartender a little too long to bring their drinks, but it was understandable because the place was packed. The start of pre-season had just begun, and the football fanatics were clearly enjoying themselves.

  The bartender finally arrived with their drinks. Once he placed each drink in front of the right person, he went to fill th
e next order and they picked up their glasses. “I’d like to make a toast.” SA Finnegan stated as he held his glass of Samuel Adams in his right hand. “To a wonderful start to an investigation. To a good partner and a hell of a boss.”

  “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Kissing my ass Finnegan isn’t going to get you anywhere anytime soon.” S.A.C. Andreatta joked as she elbowed Finnegan in the side. Then she re-raised her glass in salute “Here’s to losing a bet and paying up without a hassle.”

  “Oooh!” S.A. Garcia teasingly instigated.

  “Hold up! Hold up!” Finnegan raised his hands in mock surrender.

  “Come on Finnegan you know you take forever to pay your bets.” Andreatta jabbed at him.

  “Yeah, but at least I pay. A mans got to take time to make sure that everything was on the up and up.” Finnegan finally dropped his other hand while defending his actions.

  “More like wait until you get some more money after taking care of all your ladies. Salute!” All three held their glasses in salute then took a drink after Andreatta’s stab at him.

  After she took her drink she did her famous Tommy Lee Jones impersonation. “Neva doubt the big dog…” Garcia and Finnegan both joined in “Cause the big dog is always right.”

  It was a bit from the movie U.S. Marshalls, which was Andreatta’s favorite movie. Secretly, she had a crush on Tommy Lee Jones, but she would neva admit it. Unbeknownst to her, everybody already knew. When she wasn’t around, everyone would jokingly refer to her as S.A.C. Andreatta Jones.

  “Yeah, big dog you’re always right.” Finnegan reluctantly admitted. It was all in fun, but he still hated being wrong.

  When the Director assigned the case to them, the first thing Andreatta told them was there had to be a dirty cop, maybe even two. Finnegan didn’t see it. He thought she was grasping at straws. Like so often the two made their normal bet. Loser buys the first two rounds. Garcia was the smart one. He always stayed out of it and let the two of them bet. He got free drinks out of the deal either way,

  The three sat and discussed their game plan and what they were planning to do with the information they had learned. Considering the threat to security, they were given lead way with working this case. Going a little off book was okay if it brought results.

  Andreatta had made the call not only to bug every service vehicle and personal vehicle of everyone with ties to the case. She also tapped their phones and placed high tech GPS tracking on their vehicles as well.

  It wasn’t long before someone monitoring the wire taps inside of the Tech Department intercepted a call from an unidentified man and Lt. Urena discussing sensitive information.

  Andreatta’s unit quickly deployed and set up a triangular tail on Lt. Urena. Not even two hours after the tail was in place, Urena lead them to an abandoned warehouse in the back of San Leandro.

  With the long-range digital audio receivers, they were able to hear the entire conversation between Lt. Urena and the black man that got out of the truck. Even though they were positioned roughly a mile and a half away, the conversation came across loud and clear as if they were only a few feet away from the conversation.

  Whoever the guy was, Andreatta assumed he was very smart. Nothing in the conversation was ever incriminating towards him. That was coupled with the fact that although he didn’t let one that he thought someone was there watching them. His driver sure did drive evasively enough to lose the tail that was on them.

  “The best course of action for us at this point will be to assign a constant surveillance detail on the Lieutenant. In lieu of the facts that we have thus far, I would say it’s only a matter of time before he slips and leads us somewhere we would otherwise not have gone.

  Meanwhile we continue hitting the grind and do what it is we do best. This Neva Die fiasco, I guarantee you it’s dirty. I don’t buy the community services, group homes or anything else they are doing. It’s all a cover-up. I guarantee.” Even with two martinis already down in her system, Andrea was still alert and sharp as a tack.

  At thirty-eight years old, saying that she was attractive would be an understatement. Andrea was flat out gorgeous. She was five foot six, one hundred twenty pounds. She was very athletic. Her B-cup breast sat high and perky and her auburn hair was midway down her back with blonde highlights. To top it off, she had the perfect, little round ass.

  Her strong mind was still by far her greatest attribute. Which is why there was a strong rumor going around the Bureau that she was next in line for the Assistant Director spot due to open at the beginning of next year.

  “Should we keep surveillance strictly on Darrell and his two sons or do you want us to mobilize more units and expand surveillance to cover some of the lesser subjects?” Garcia’s question was a good one indeed. They didn’t want to waste manpower.

  “Let’s break into three mobilized recon and surveillance only units. We will target the upper echelon of this organization. Remember, that we survey only unless instructed or at the point of hostile engagement.

  Our primary objective is still the cop killer, though we will aid and assist as much as needed. The terrorist theory and component are the burden of the SSU. Unless said threat is deemed real and active.” Andrea still didn’t’ know yet if she was convinced that Levell Jenkins was linked to the Black Guerilla Family and if he was, did that mean the organization was backing his play or was this a solitary mission. Time would reveal all though.

  **** N. D. ****

  Dublin, California

  The Dublin Police Department was busy with movement. It was a little after three p.m. which meant it was shift exchange. No-one paid any attention to the older black man sitting in the lobby. His respectable, but badly worn-down attire and his slouched over, beat down posture spoke of an honest man finally worn down by the heavy ills of life. Ills that were undoubtedly made worst by the fact that he was born a black man.

  He’d already been sitting in the lobby nearly thirty minutes before he made his way up to the clerks desk.

  The officer of the day was an elderly, grumpy white Sergeant. He’d long ago been taken off of the streets for his continued racial antics, Internal Affairs investigations and the numerous write-ups for insubordination. After twenty-eight years he was now actually two days from retirement. In his mind this God forsaken job and his idiotic superiors could kiss his wrinkled old white ass.

  “Excuse me officer…” the elder gentleman begun

  “That’s Sergeant, boy! Don’t you see these stripes on my damn uniform?” The racist sergeant interrupted.

  “Ah, oh, oh. Yes, I’m so sorry, sir. Ah, Sergeant, my grandson Freddie Gray was brought in here I don’t know what for, that boy never bothers a soul. But, anyhow, he was brought in here. I’ve been waiting on him, but he hasn’t come out yet.” The old man spoke while shaking his head.

  The sergeant smiled at seeing the mental anguish taking its toll on the old nigger. He thought to himself that the old niggerz grandpa was probably a cotton picker.

  “Boy, what chu mean you waiting on him?” He squinched up his nose from the acrid smell of the silent fart he let out. The egg and sardine sandwich tasted good, but it was a deadly combination on his stomach. Especially, given the cheese and sauerkraut he added on it.

  “I posted his bond with that company. That one with the logo of the white man on it.” The old timer was desperately trying to remember the name.

  “Oh well, you old fool. If you posted his bond that means he was already processed and is over at Santa Rita. Your ass is supposed to pick him up there, you old dupe.” The Sergeant was really having a good time now.

  “Santa Rita?” He looked confused and lost. “W-where’s that at?”

  “It’s in Dublin, now get on out of here. I ain’t a map stand, and yo kind can’t be taking up all my time.” The Sergeant went back to doing what he was doing before he finished talking. He couldn’t waste time on some colored, he was looking at porn on the computer.

  The old man shuffled his way out of
the precinct and down the street to his waiting car.

  Five minutes after the old man bothered the Sergeant, one of the deputies called the desk Sergeant. Something about an old briefcase that was left on the ground next to one of the chairs. The Sergeant figured it belonged to the old timer given the condition of the case and the old timer.

  Laughing to himself, the sergeant instructed the officer to put the case in the storage closet next to his desk where the lost and found was. He was amused at the thought of the old nigger having to come all the way back over here just to pick up the case. What a hell of a day the little old nigger was having. The sergeant decided that he would make his day even worse by feigning like he couldn’t find the case for a while.

  “Well I’m sorry to tell you, Mr. Nigger…” Those hateful ugly words would be the last words that the fat racist cop would ever mumble.

  Just a couple days away from retirement.

  **** N. D. ****

  Two blocks away from the Dublin Police Department, Batman stopped for the red light. He pulled the little small device from his pocket and smiled.

  “I neva knew you, Freddy. But I honor you, young brotha.” With a sincere smile on his face, Batman’s head was looking up towards Heaven.

  He looked at the Electric Remote Detonator in his hand. Just as the traffic light turned green, he pushed the button. In the rear-view mirror, he watched as two blocks back the Dublin Police Department blew sky high. As debris, rubble and body parts rained down on drivers and nearby pedestrians, Batman drove off with a smile on his face a lot bigger.

  Hopefully, he thought Freddie Gray would be looking down from Heaven smiling. Batman wasn’t in Baltimore, MD on April 19, 2015 when the police kidnapped Freddie and took him on a prolonged ride, shackled and handcuffed to the floor of the van while they savagely beat him to death. He knew if he had been there things would have gone completely different and the young brotha would be alive.