"So then, this is it? I won't be seeing you anymore?" Anthony asked, with his eyes wide and his heart pounding inside his chest.
"No, you won't be fucking me anymore, if that's what you're asking. But you will be hearing from me. And that I can promise," Veronica said, as she stood up and walked over to
the front door. "Now please leave!" she said, opening the door.
Without another word, Judge Marino sadly put his head down and walked out
the house. Veronica slammed the door behind him.
CHAPTER 93
One week later...
Veronica spoke with all of her politically connected friends about helping Face at his upcoming trial, but no one was willing or able to help. She learned that Face's case was a lot bigger than what it had originally appeared and powerful people behind closed doors were secretly pulling strings to see Face go down.
Sitting in the passenger seat of Veronica's S-600 Mercedes, Pamela watched as Veronica pulled over and parked her car.
"I have one more person to see," Veronica said, before she got out of the car.
"Who?" Pamela asked curiously.
"The Mayor."
Pamela watched as Veronica walked across the street to the historic City Hall building. When she disappeared from sight, Pamela sat back and waited.
After getting off the elevator, Veronica walked over to the desk where an attractive young black woman was working at her computer.
"Yes, how may I help you?" she asked with a pleasant smile.
"My name is Veronica Taylor, and I'm here to see the Mayor. We have a meeting for one o'clock," she added, glancing at her gold Rolex.
"Hold on Miss Taylor, I'll have to check and see if he's ready to receive you," she said as she picked up the phone to announce Veronica.
Veronica stood there watching as the woman spoke into the phone. When she hung up she looked up at Veronica and said, "Miss. Taylor, the Mayor is ready to see you. His office is the black door on the right."
"Thank you," Veronica said, then turned and walked away.
When she approached the Mayor's door she tapped it lightly and stepped inside. Sitting behind his desk was Mayor Charles Klein. He smiled widely when Veronica closed the door and walked over to his desk. Her face showed of importance as she sat down in an empty chair.
"What was so important that you couldn't wait until next week to see me?" Charles asked.
"My nephew," she replied.
"Who is your nephew?" he asked curiously.
"Norman Smith, Junior. You might have heard of him by the name of Face."
Charles stood up from his desk and walked around it. When he stopped in front of Veronica's chair, he looked down at her and said, "that guy is the biggest drug dealer in the country!"
Charles, he's my nephew and I came here to see if you could do anything to help him. "
Charles shook his head and said, regretfully, "I'm sorry Veronica, but there's nothing I can do for your nephew. Me or anyone else for that matter. I'm sorry."
Veronica stood up from the chair and looked Charles in the eye. "He was set up Charles, and you know it! And now your Godfather, C.W. Watson is trying to ruin him!"
Charles's eyes widened and he said, "Veronica, the Feds want him awfully bad. They want to use your nephew as an example for all the low life drug dealers. I'm very sorry, but there is nothing I can do about it. My Godfather is a very powerful man in D.C., and he's the man behind it all."
"Can't you talk to him?" Veronica asked.
Charles laughed and then said, "He's the head of the Domestic Anti-Drug Commission. It's his job to take people like your nephew down. "
"He was set up Charles! And your Godfather is trying to ruin him just to boost his own political career!" Veronica vented.
"Even if you're right, there's still nothing that can be done about it. Your nephew has a high-profile case and there are a lot of people that's..."
"That's what?" Waiting to see him convicted and given a life sentence?" Veronica said, cutting him off in mid sentence.
Charles didn't respond, he just watched as Veronica turned and walked over to the door. She paused, then turned back around and said, "don't bother to call me anymore. You can't satisfy my needs, so why should I continue to satisfy yours?"
"Veronica, please don't do this! We go back to many years," he begged.
"Evidently all those years we had don't mean shit!"
"That's not true, Veronica and you know it!" Charles said, as he walked over to her. “Please Veronica, it would kill me if I couldn't see you anymore," he said honestly.
"And it would kill me if my nephew went to prison for the rest of his life!"
"But..."
"Save the buts, Charles! You said what you had to say," Veronica said grabbing the door knob. "This is far from over, Mr. Mayor! You'll be hearing from me again very soon," she added before she opened the door and walked out of his office.
When Veronica got back into the car she looked at Pamela and said, "Just like all the others! He can't do a damn thing to help us! So, you know what that means?!"
"Are you sure you wanna go that route?" Pamela asked.
"We don't have another choice," Veronica replied as she started her car.
"Okay, then. Plan B it is," Pamela said with a smile on her face.
Later that night...
Tasha was sitting on the bed reading some documents she had brought home from the job. Even with all the recent drama surrounding her, the T&F Real Estate firm was still doing extremely well. Isuri walked into her mother's bedroom and joined her on the bed. "Baby, what are you doing up?" Tasha asked, as Isuri snuggled up under her.
"I couldn't sleep," she replied in her innocent young voice.
"Tasha put her paperwork down and reached out and pulled Isuri into her loving arms. After kissing her on the cheek, she said, "Why can't you sleep?"
"Because."
"Because what?"
Isuri looked into her mother's eyes and said, "Because, I miss Daddy. And I keep thinking about him. Mommy, does Daddy still love me and Norman?" she seriously asked.
Tasha smiled and said, "Baby, your father loves both of y’all."
"Then why don't he come home no more? Is he mad at us?" Isuri said, as her eyes filled with tears.
Tasha wrapped her arms around Isuri and said, “Baby, your father loves you and your brother more than anything in this world. I told you that he's a little busy right now. That's all."
"But when will he come back home?" Isuri asked, as tears began to fall down her beautiful little face.
Tasha got silent, because she was unable to answer Isuri’s question.
"Huh, Mommy? When is daddy coming back home?" she asked again.
"I...I don't know, Baby," Tasha said, as her own tears started to drop from her eyes.
F.D.C. Philadelphia...
Inside his quiet cell, Face laid back on the bunk staring at a photo of him and his family. With each passing day, he miss them even more. Still, he knew he had to stay strong-not only for himself, but for them as well. After putting the photo back under his pillow he looked out of the window. The dark sky was filled with stars. As he stared at them his mind began racing with thoughts. He still couldn't believe how so much had changed in such a short time, and how so many of his former friends had crossed him. In the silence of his single cell, Face stared out the window a single tear fell from his eye.
CHAPTER 94
Early July, one week before the trial was to begin...
The jury selection process lasted for three tedious days. But after questioning and evaluating over a hundred potential jurors, thirteen were finally seated; twelve jurors and one alternative, in case one of the twelve became sick, killed, or otherwise unable to continue the trial. These twelve people would ultimately decide Face's fate. Even after their long days selecting the jury, Gloria visited Face every evening and went over every small detail for his upcoming trial.
As Face sat back read
ing some important paperwork, Gloria sat in her chair staring at him. She couldn't help but admire his masculinity and determination.
"Did you read the statement from the person who's name is blacked out?" Gloria asked.
"Yeah, I read it when you first gave it to me a while ago," Face replied as he closed the folder and handed it back to her.
"He's one of the informants that's working for the government, but he won't be testifying at your trial, because the Feds don't want to expose his true identity."
Face smiled at Gloria and said, "They already did. They just don't know it."
"So, you know who this person is?" Gloria asked in a shocked voice.
"I know who all my enemies are. Even the ones who smile in my face," he replied.
"Do you mind telling me this person's name?"
Face folded his arms across his chest, and with a stern look he said, "Just read the newspaper tomorrow morning. You'll figure it out yourself."
Later that night...
Inside Veronica's bedroom she and Pamela sat in the middle of the pile of video cassettes and discs. They were reviewing the footage and making duplicate copies.
"Here's the list of everyone we'll send a disc to," Veronica said, passing Pamela a white sheet of paper with names and addresses on it. "So, when do you want to start sending
them out?" she added.
"When the time is right," Pamela grinned.
Veronica reached down on the floor and picked up three discs. "Here, Pamela. These are the Masters. Make sure you take good care of these."
"Don't you worry, tomorrow morning I'm going straight to my bank and put them in my safety deposit box. They'll be safe there," Pamela said assuredly. "I still can't believe that Charles confessed to you. Do you think he was telling the truth? He was drunk when he told you the story," she added.
"I don't know, but one thing’s for sure, we’ll soon find out," Veronica said as she placed another disc into the video player. "If what Charles’ confession is the truth, and what happened in West Virginia really happened, then Face has a real big chance of winning his case."
"Yeah, but if Charles's drunken confession was false, then Face will end up in a lot more trouble," Pamela seriously said. "And even if what Charles said is the truth, it will only bring Face a lot more enemies. And you too," she added.
"You think I care? As long as we have these masters there's nothing that anyone can do to us. It's not my fault they couldn't keep their mouths shut and their dicks in their pants," Veronica
said laughing.
Pamela looked at her friend and just smiled. She knew that Veronica was a woman that lived on the edge and played by her own rules. In the privacy of Veronica's bedroom the two women sat back and prepared to watch another one of Veronica's secret sex tapes.
Southwest Philly, 78th and Linbergh Avenue...
Quincy pulled over and parked his tinted black Dodge Magnum across the street from a two story house. After screwing the silencer onto his .9mm he took out his cell phone and dialed a number. "Yo, who dis?" a man's voice answered on the second ring.
"It's me Que. What's up Knuckles?"
"Hey Que, what's up, my man? It's been a while since you called. Is everything cool?" Knuckles said, as he climbed out of bed with his girlfriend Tameka. "Is Face alright?"
"Yeah, he's cool," Quincy said.
"I see they got him in the newspapers almost every day. I really hope he beats it," Knuckles said, as he walked out of the bedroom and quietly closed the door.
"I need to holla at you about something. You got a minute?” Quincy asked.
"Yeah, anytime. Where you at?"
"I'm right outside your house. Come open the door."
"You outside!" Knuckles replied in a shocked tone.
"Yeah, I was in the area, so I decided to swing by for a minute. Is that okay?"
"Yeah, it's cool. I'll be right there," Knuckles said, ending the call and closing his cell phone. He quickly rushed back into the bedroom and put on his jeans, sneakers and tee shirt.
As Tameka laid peacefully sleeping in bed, he reached under the mattress and pulled out the mini-tape recorder. He pushed the small red record button and slid the recorder into his pocket, then he left out of the room and rushed down the stairs. When he reached the front door, he took a slow deep breath, then opened the door.
"Que, what's up my man?" he asked, as he let him into the house.
As soon as Knuckles shut the door and turned around, Quincy already had his loaded .9mm pointed at his head.
"Killing snitches. That's what's up!" he replied, squeezing the trigger five times. 'Tht! Tht! Tht! Tht! Tht!' Five near silent and deadly bullets entered Knuckles' face and chest.
When his lifeless body slumped to the floor, Quincy walked to him, stood over his body and… 'Tht! Tht! He shot him two more times in his face. Then he bent over, went into Knuckles' pocket and found the small tape recorder. He stood up and angrily shook his head. Then, he aimed the gun at Knuckles' face and shot him once again.
Quincy turned from Knuckles' corpse and walked over to the stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs he walked to the front bedroom and quietly opened the door. Tameka, Knuckles' attractive, light skinned girlfriend, was peacefully sleeping under the cover.
Quincy approached her with his gun aimed at her head. With no hesitation he squeezed the trigger two times. 'Tht! Tht!' He watched as her body twitched, then got totally still. 'Tht!' he shot her once more in the head before he turned and walked out of the bedroom.
When he walked down the hallway he stopped at the first bedroom he came across and opened the door. Two young boys were sleeping peacefully in separate beds. They were Tameka and Knuckles' four year old twin sons.
Early the next morning...
Inside a crowded Starbucks, Gloria sat at a small table sipping her Swiss Mocha Cappuccino and staring at the front page of the Philadelphia Daily newspaper. She couldn't believe her eyes. The front page headline read, ‘FBI INFORMANT AND GIRLFRIEND FOUND MURDERED INSIDE THEIR HOME’. After reading the entire story Gloria had an unbelievable look on her face. She thought about what Face had told her and just shook her head. The only good thing about the tragic story was that the killer, or killers, didn’t harm the dead couples’ four year old twin boys.
CHAPTER 95
The trial;
THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA VS. NORMAN SMITH, JR...
Inside the gray brick and dark oak walls of the Federal Courthouse located in downtown Philadelphia, Norman 'Face' Smith, Jr., also known as BLACK SCARFACE, was on trial for his life. Face had been charged with conspiracy to buy over 2000 kilograms of cocaine and 250 kilograms of pure heroin. He had soared to the top of the FBI’s Top Ten Most Wanted list, and
the Department of Homeland Security, including the DEA and the ATF(Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms), were in complete agreement with the FBI’s assessment.
Now, they were all here in the courtroom that was filled to capacity. Extra security had been provided by the U.S. Marshal’s office, as well as two impeccably dressed, silent and stern faced white men from the Department of Homeland Security. They were the kind of men that permitted everyone around them to know something out of the ordinary was taking place. Silently, they studied everyone and everything. The government was attempting to make sure Face went away for the rest of his natural life and they didn't want anything to get in the way.
The tension in the courtroom had become palpable. Face calmly sat beside his attractive female attorney, Gloria Jones. He wore a black silk, Armani suit and a pair of black alligator
skin shoes. In sharp contrast, sitting beside the man who epitomized fear and power, sat Gloria, clean and perfect in mind, body and soul. As beautiful as Gloria was, she was an even better
litigator. She worked her way up from the bottom to become one of the finest criminal defense attorneys in the nation.
Gloria shuffled through some of her most recent notes, ignoring the insanity of all the ch
aos around her. Face sat calmly before his judge and jury as if he were immune to their desires and intentions. He looked over his right shoulder and saw the two beautiful women that had meant more to him than anything in this world; his mother, Pamela, and his wife, Tasha. They both waved and gave him a comforting smile.
Seated right behind them were some of his good friends; Veronica, Passion, Peter J. Greenberg and White Chocolate, plus many more folks were scattered throughout the courtroom.
As Face sat back scanning the crowd, he also noticed a few of his long time enemies; Detective Ron Perry and the two FBI Agents, Jeff McDonald and Steve Powaski, to top the list. They sat staring with evil eyes and only God knew the hatred that rested inside their hearts.
Surrounded by photographers, journalists and reporters from as far away as London, the trial of THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - VS- NORMAN SMITH, JR., began.
Assistant U.S. Attorney, Vincent L. Bradley opened with a long winded story of corruption, violence and murder, that seemed to allege that Face was a 'mastermind' criminal and the root and cause of every problem in America.
As the twelve jurors intently listened with wide and curious eyes, various expressions of anger, outrage, fear and contempt, played across their faces while Mr. Bradley weaved his tale. It was easy for them to see and believe that as far as the government was concerned, Face was the epitome of evil.
Pictures of grisly murders, videos, and diagrams were all paraded in front of the courtroom as part of Bradley's shock and awe campaign. And while each of the spectators hung on to every piercing word that flowed from his silver tongued mouth, like it was honey from the hive, Face seemed strangely removed from Bradley's razor sharp accusations.
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