by Kiki Swinson
My hand shook now. I vowed I never wanted to witness another murder in my life after the ones I’d seen. But if I was going to die too, it didn’t even matter anymore.
“Please, brother, don’t do this. We both made mistakes. We are still family,” the traitor cried.
“Kill him!” Galina screamed again.
His men rushed past me like a swarm or a SWAT team. Startled, I stumbled a little bit.
“Now!” he screamed at them.
“First tell me why you couldn’t be a real brother. Why did you have to take everything for yourself?” the traitor spoke up, and asked him.
Galina looked at him pitifully. He shook his head from left to right.
“Kill him before I kill all of you,” Galina whispered. He was trying to hold on to his composure. All of his men lifted their guns almost at the same time. They leveled the guns at the traitor. “Please! I’m begging—” the traitor started.
Bam! Bam! A barrage of bullets went off and silenced him. I knew then that he was dead.
I turned away, unable to watch and knowing that the wrath was about to be turned back to me. So many thoughts raced through my head about whether I was going to live or die. And if I was murdered, how exactly would my life end? This was no way to leave this earth.
“Tell me why you didn’t just kill me weeks ago,” I asked softly, tears running down my battered face.
“The same reason you didn’t try to expose the rest of the story. Timing is everything and you, of all people, know that,” Galina answered. “Everything in time and for a reason. You get what you deserve for the things you do in life. It’s called karma,” he was saying.
The next thing I heard was like a loud explosion. I dropped down and everyone began to scramble. When I looked up, what looked like a huge police tank was driving into the building.
“Get out of here!” Galina screamed, but it was too late. Within minutes there were police officers upon him and his men. I couldn’t believe my eyes, ears, or my other senses. I was overjoyed and overwhelmed at the same time.
A police officer tackled Galina to the floor. “Ooof,” he gagged as a fist slammed into his diaphragm, causing all of the wind in his body to blow hard out of his mouth. I watched as vomit spewed out of his mouth right after.
“Hit that bitch-ass nigga again!” a deep baritone voice commanded. With that, another sledgehammer-sized fist slammed into Galina’s jaw. I saw the blood and spit shoot from between his lips. This shit was unreal.
Tears of joy drained down my face. The salt from the blood stung the open cuts on my split bottom lip. We were being saved.
“Is there anyone else in here hurt?” the deep voice asked me.
I nodded my head vigorously. “Yes, my brother. He is dying. Please try to save him.”
As the gravity of the whole situation finally settled into my aching, bruised, and battered brain, I coughed and wheezed, trying to tell them what happened and where Kyle might be. I had been moved to two different rooms through this whole ordeal. Each raggedy breath hurt like hell. I knew then that some of my ribs had been shattered.
“Where is the body?” the voice boomed again. This time they forced Galina to stand up and face them.
“I’ll ask you one more time, Arsenio Galina—where the fuck did you take her brother?” the head cop growled.
“Fuck you and her,” Galina answered. My entire body went cold, like my veins had been injected with ice water. I knew right then that if he didn’t tell them where Kyle was, time was going to run out. I knew at a minimum my brother had been shot and electrocuted. Although my heart was galloping, something told me to tell them to check out back in those vans. I knew Galina and his people were the types to bury someone to hide the evidence, even if he was still fighting for his life.
“Please! Please find my brother,” I managed through battered lips. Each word was painful coming out, but I was a woman possessed at that moment, so I didn’t feel a thing. Nothing at all, except fear for my brother’s life. He was my twin. He was my life.
As they were taking him out, I heard Galina let out a raucous, maniacal laugh. “You won’t find him in time. He is a dead man, and don’t forget, you are a dead woman too. I never forget when people owe me debts,” Galina spat as he was moved past me.
“It’s pieces of shit like you that make my job worth it,” one of the police officers hissed, and then dragged Galina out of the place.
The heat of anger that lit up my chest from his words was probably enough to make me kill him with my bare hands, if I could’ve. I bucked my body out of anger, but that just made shit worse.
“We found him!” I heard a police officer announce. “Let’s get them all loaded into ambulances and get them out of here.”
Just then, I saw my mother and Liza rushing toward me.
“Khloé! Oh, my God!” my mother bawled.
“Agh!” I cried, falling into her arms. Here she was again, saving my life. I didn’t know how she always knew how to find us, and how she always felt when we were hurting or in trouble, but I was surely grateful for my mother’s gift that day.
“Come on, let them get you into the ambulance,” she said, letting go of my battered body. “Don’t worry about Kyle. I will make sure . . .” She started to speak, but her voice trailed off. I knew that meant she didn’t want to make me any promises, just in case my brother was dead.
“Agh!” I screamed out, and panted for breath at the same time, while they helped me into the back of the ambulance. The pain was unbearable. I could barely catch my breath. Small squirms of light flitted through my eyes. I was literally seeing stars from how bad I was hurting.
“Don’t you worry. All of this won’t be for nothing. It’s far from over, and it won’t all be for nothing,” my mother told me as she closed the back of the ambulance doors.
I opened my battered and swollen eyes and stared up at the blinding light dangling from the ceiling inside the ambulance. I was praying and inviting death to just come take me away from this pain. I told God if my brother died, I never wanted to live another day. The EMTs saw that I was upset and agitated. They gave me a sedative, and before long I could feel the walls closing in on me. Before the darkness and the shock engulfed me, though, I thought about Kyle and all the shit we had done to get to this point. We were as thick as thieves. I had his back and he had mine. Now all of that had changed.
What am I going to do now?
18
THE VERDICT
In the name of my brother, I made sure that I was ready to give my testimony in the trials of Detective Keith, Anton Barker, Arsenio Galina, and several other members of their nasty organization. I had limped down the long aisle of the courtroom each time I was called into court, my leg messed up from the beatings I’d taken.
The last day I sat amongst the crowd. The courtroom was pin-drop quiet, although it was packed to capacity. The jury foreman stood up; the rustle of his suit made the inside of the room feel tense. He cleared his throat. The judge asked the foreman if the jury had reached the verdict. The foreman said yes and unfolded a piece of paper. He opened his mouth and the words seemed to come out in slow motion: “We, the jury, in the case of the Commonwealth of Virginia versus Anton Barker, find the defendant guilty of all of the charges against him, first-degree murder.”
A loud round of groans and moans filtered around the room. “Order!” the judge screamed, banging his gavel. The foreman continued apprehensively. He could feel the evil eyes bearing down on him. “We, the jury, also find the defendant guilty of the charge of child endangerment,” he finished up. The courtroom erupted in pandemonium. There were screams and moans. People were moving; reporters were running out of the courtroom so they could be the first to break the news.
I wasn’t there in that capacity today. I wasn’t worried about a news story or getting the best shot or camera angle. I was there to see all of my hard work really and truly pay off. I had learned it wasn’t about the story. It was about justice:
real justice in the name of those who weren’t there to speak for themselves, like my brother. I swiped away the happy tears from my face and mouthed, “Thank you, Jesus.” In my mind justice had finally been served.
I could hear the news reporters and tabloid media personalities screaming: “Mrs. Barker, your husband was just convicted of murder! The verdict has shocked the nation!”
I watched as Anton Barker’s wife was ushered out of the courtroom, shrouded by the team of attorneys that had failed her husband. I smiled inside. I had done it. Anton Barker was a convicted man. Once we all hit the courthouse doors, the throngs of reporters moved in for the kill.
“Ms. Mercer! How did you do it? How did you put away so many murderers and stay alive?” reporters screamed as I tried to get out of the building. The other slew of reporters jammed their microphones in Mrs. Barker’s face and asked her just as many questions. She kept her head hung low, hiding her face with her arms. She didn’t want anyone to see the shame across her face. I felt a pang of sadness for her and her son, but then I thought about my brother and that feeling quickly faded away.
* * *
Now the replay of the courtroom scene almost brought a smile to my face again. I sat in the network studio and watched everything on the big screen. The network had chosen to use the scene as an opening for the piece they were doing on my life and my journey from junior reporter to Emmy winner to almost getting killed for a story. I chuckled as I heard the correspondent rehearsing her opening statements. I remembered my days of being nervous and rehearsing behind the scenes at the news station before a big on-air moment. I had really done it all and gotten to this point. I was so important that reporters wanted to interview me now, instead of the other way around. It was all fascinating, to say the least.
“Tonight, on Nightline, we bring you the story of Khloé Mercer. Once a beautiful, hungry, young junior reporter, she was charged with going out and finding a newsworthy story. She ended up finding that story, but also narrowly escaped losing her life to shed light on one of the biggest scandals to ever rock the state of Virginia. Tonight you will hear Ms. Mercer tell the story of how she went from a backroom junior reporter, who reported on petty robberies and car accidents, to the most popular reporter in Virginia, and equally the most hated woman in the whole state of Virginia. The police say she helped bring down a scandal in the Norfolk Police Department so huge that they had to fire nearly sixty percent of their police force for being corrupt. We will take you through Khloé’s life, starting with her humble beginnings in the roughest neighborhood in Norfolk, through her struggles growing up without a father after he was murdered, and dealing with a mother who was drug addicted. We’ll talk about her current life as an Emmy Award–winning news reporter who is now retired and has taken up writing a book about the Barker corruption case. Stay tuned as we bring you the story of Khloé Mercer, a woman who in her own account brought down the biggest, most corrupt government in the history of the United States.”
I smirked to myself as I listened to my best friend, Liza, the newest host of the television special that would feature my story, rehearse the opening for our interview. I chuckled just thinking about how far Liza and I had come from being screamed at by Christian to now being the interviewer and interviewee on a nationally recognized network show. It was nervous laughter, I have to admit, but I was thinking, You damn right we are here! We both deserved this moment. Period. And now the world would know the truth about my story.
I walked away from almost being killed. But my brother didn’t. I folded my arms across my chest as I thought about the entire ordeal. I didn’t care that people there were Barker supporters that still didn’t believe my story; I knew the truth. I was going to tell it like it was, like it really happened. Not like the opposing-side media had made it out to be when everything first happened.
Liza finished her intro and was suddenly ready to get down to business with the interview. She smiled at me as she got into her chair directly across from me and they put the finishing touches on her makeup. I was so proud of Liza. I could feel the love from her and I knew she felt it from me too. It was clear that even Liza was now one of the number one news correspondents in Virginia, but she still thought of me as the best and as a mentor. She just didn’t know how much I also looked up to her. I was old news in the business now, and she was new and improved. She had stepped up her game and worked hard, but the whole time she was there for me through my grieving and my recovery.
“Are you ready?” Liza asked, still flashing her beautiful, newly-paid-for smile. I inhaled deeply.
“As ready as I’m going to get,” I answered, exhaling. I hadn’t really talked about all of the intricacies of my story in one place. In fact, I had definitely pushed some things into the far reaches of my mind. Today, however, like I promised when the network agreed to pay me two hundred thousand for my story, I was going to tell everything—raw, uncut, and in their faces.
“Okay, Ms. Mercer, or do you prefer Khloé?” Liza stumbled over her words.
“Khloé is fine.” I wanted to tell her it was me, not to be so nervous, but I knew I couldn’t give her any advice while we were rolling.
“Khloé, you sit here as one of the most talked-about women in America. Many people say you literally risked life and limb for a news story. Although you say you didn’t do it for the story, this couldn’t be how you planned your life to be. I mean, you can’t even walk down the street without someone recognizing you. You’ve received death threats, and you lost your brother as a casualty of bringing this very scandalous story to life,” Liza stated, her open-ended question leading me down her little path.
“No, I definitely did not just do it for the story. As a little girl I always knew I would be famous, though. I also knew I’d be just as fabulous as I am today—” I began.
“But did you know you’d be famous at this cost?” Liza blurted out, cutting in before I could say anything else. Her words struck me like a gut punch. I didn’t expect that. I grabbed the edges of the chair and gripped them tightly. I was more determined than ever to tell the story now. I opened my mouth and thought about how it had all gotten started. I needed people to know, and I needed Kyle to be remembered.
After my interview ended, I grabbed my things and headed out the side door of the station. Exiting this way made me less accessible to the media that was posted up across the street. While I was walking toward my car, I noticed there was a piece of paper placed between my windshield and the windshield wiper. Puzzled by the sudden appearance of it, I looked around my immediate surrounding to see if someone was watching me. But after a quick search, I saw nothing or no one. So I grabbed the note and slowly opened it.
I saw how you broke the Anton Barker’s case wide open. So I need you to help me find out who murdered my husband. I believe that he was involved in a cover-up. I will pay you top dollar. Please call me at 555-0010.
—Anonymous