Download the original attachment
ROLL CALL—RELEASE FROM PRISON—
CHAPTER 1
Does everything happen for a reason? I wondered this question again as I thought about my current state. My mom had always taught that God has an eternal plan that we are involved in and that I am to stay grateful in all things with faith that I’m being built and prepared for what is to come.
Screwball stood underneath the ledge B.J was on standing like a statue staring at his friend through intense blue eyes waiting for a response. He discerned how close to disaster he was by the troubled look in his eyes.
“B.J! What were you thinking holmes?”
B.J stood on the cliff above the rocky ocean with the body language and attributes from someone who survived by violence. He was wearing black Nikes and navy blue pin striped Volcom shorts showing explosive bunched up leg muscles in a stocky yet limber stature. Shirtless in the 85 degree sunny summer day, his ripped V-shaped frame separated chest, back and shoulders and exuded energy and power. B.J’s prominent chin had a deep scar adding even more depth. Screwball laughed at earlier memories, you have to kill B.J’s type cause if he’s in the right he won’t stop. He thought back to when he saw him in prison, where he seemed to hold all the cards. Where he looked like he was always one step ahead of his surroundings and always on his toes like he was accustomed to violence and schemes and found he was more than able. Screwball thought, he’s a mastermind in prison where emotions are sealed, but out here in the world, on the big yard, he’s overwhelmed. His heart must be involved.
I thought about my beautiful girl who owned my heart. Ten days ago she ran from the Shelter’s parking lot and I knew she saw a local drug dealer. A scumbag had recently text messaged her that- I HAVE THE BOMB DOPE! He was going to pay. My beautiful was newly sober. She was getting her life together. I followed from a distance. She got in the passenger seat of a blue Honda. They took off from the curb. I ran after her with my heart in my throat, I was losing her. The Honda turned up the next Laguna Beach Street and I realized she had to be back at the Shelter in 20 minutes. I ran harder. The Honda pulled into a driveway. I caught up just in time. Annette was in the back of the garage looking at something. A bag of speed. Bob, standing next to her looked up right as I finished running up the driveway. I kept walking fast right at him. He opened his stance and set a backpack on a table. I wasn’t planning on talking anyway. I noticed another person in the corner and was getting close to Bob. He tried to say something but the word got stuck in his throat because my feet shuffle stepped hard and fast. His hands never came up and I fired a left hand jab downward through his chin and felt his feet buckle and his body go liquid. The table he set his backpack on held him up and I kept jabbing the left like a piston. As his body slumped further and slid down the table I tilted the last left in an uppercut and felt my fist meet just the right part of his chin to snap it back. I heard and felt his jaw break and watched him slide to the ground like jello. He was lying on the floor flat on his back unconscious. Blood pooled out of his mouth on both sides of his lips. I came out of the red zone and realized the person I saw in the corner was talking. I looked and he wasn’t a threat. I looked at Annette and saw shock on her face, then excitement. Good, I got her high without dope. I looked back at Bob. His eyes were fluttering. He was coming too but choking on his blood. I grabbed his head and turned it to the side to keep him alive and said, “Get her high or make her cry and you die.” I finally understood the other guy saying, “Fuck-n-a” over and over. I looked back at Annette and said, “Let’s go.”
Screwball noticed B.J.’s troubled eyes take on that determined look so many people knew about and said, “Talk to me B.J why did you beat up that speed dealer? You’re not getting back into moving product are you?”
“It’s not like that; I know nothing good can come from drug money. It’s the devils. I fell for this beautiful firecracker Annette at the shelter… I go way back with her.”
“She uses speed?”
“Not as much currently.”
“Give me the short version.”
“Remember that stripper-escort Candy who drove around in her Range Rover videoing her lifestyle…The one who broke Vince’s heart in the original Roll Call?”
“She’s like her?”
“Yeah, but way better.”
I watched Screwball get irritated and cut me off.
“Come on stud, don’t tell me you are emotionally invested in a tweaked out Barbie who escorts for a hustle?”
“Yup, but she wants to quit like I did and just needs some emotional support and a stud hungry to share that and other flesh needs.”
“B.J what happened to that non profit you and Damon were supposed to get involved in with the Chipcom director and the governor’s wife?”
I thought about it…The Chipcom director and the governor’s wife were for the message in the novel I wrote. That if we turn prisoners lives’ around while incarcerated, from the inside out, through writing, art and other programs, the whole community would benefit. They were going to help set up a Foundation for me to be a part of.
“Haven’t you heard? Raymond senior got caught cooking the books to inflate Chipcom’s earnings and some insider trading. The governor’s wife had to turn her shoulders on the project.”
“Where is your partners Damon and Vince?”
“Crossroads Recovery changed hands then got shut down and Damon moved to L.A with her. I don’t know where Vince is yet.”
“So back to the original question, why did you beat up the speed dealer?”
“As I fell in lust with Annette, she poured her life out from her heart and I learned about her life of survival, the people she lived with and her whole get down. My heart melted and the protective side of me kicked in full blast and lust turned into love. We connected on such a deep level she text messaged all her speed using acquaintances not to give her any speed even if she comes looking for it and then she let me have her phone for a while. I called 3 speed dealers who were constantly trying to get hold of her and gave them a courtesy call explaining that I’m with her now and it is a violation for them to throw any dope her way. I explained that she is in a homeless shelter and trying to get her son back in her life and build one with me.”
“Let me guess. She couldn’t stay sober the first time and went back to one of them and you showed up.”
“Nope… They kept calling her because she is who she is, a sexy diva who is incredibly interesting and pure energy. One of them drove right to the shelter and stalked her with a pipe full of what he told her was ‘THE BOMB!’ In drug using lingo that produced memories and that produced a surge of chemical endorphins releasing in her gorgeous head that tipped the desire to use into a compulsion. That’s him preying on her addiction. In one case she missed it, the excitement, the lifestyle, the network and found it herself. It’s impossible to go from completely wrapped in the addiction game to cold turkey without God. You know that. You have to wean off little by little and develop another social network. How did you find out about this?”
“That other dude that was in the garage, Brandon, is my homeboy from L.A. He told me when the speed dealer started mouthing off and got to close you landed so many punches he lost count in under a second. He said he’s never seen anyone as fast as you…B.J remember when we were cellies, you mentioned your childhood and how your mom was manipulated by your dad that she could never have any contact with you, and you never found her again until her funeral a few years later? Look at what that has turned you into. You’re ‘Captain Save-a-ho.’”
Screwball stepped back in reaction to B.J. His whole body flinched.
“Annette isn’t a ho!”
�
�Okay brother. She sounds a lot like you with that energy. Remember energy can go either way. As much as energy can make one smile, it can also make one cry depending on where one draws that energy from, God and His Angels or the devil and his legion. I don’t want to see you get in a wreck and back in prison.”
CHAPTER—2 Mexico City----
Juan Tejada piloted the lear jet from Mexico City to a private airstrip near Sinaloa deep in thought over his dying daughter Dyna. Her Leukemia was spreading. She was on the verge of being past medical help. Then, El Diablo got involved. Juan remembered the sequence. A call came from the world’s top doctor in the study of Leukemia in Indiana. He was successful in removing all traces of the cancer in 93% of the patients he took. Then El Diablo showed up to make the arrangements. All he wanted in return was my services as a pilot. El Diablo had said in a cryptic voice, “Fair trade isn’t robbery.”
20,000 feet in the air Juan looked at the desert below. He remembered his loved ones saying, “You’ve made a deal with the devil.” Now, considering everything, Juan prayed for the courage to slam the aircraft into the ground or use the gun in his jacket to rid the world of the evil drug smuggler.
Juan watched El Diablo enter the cockpit on two occasions. Both times he felt his fear paralyze him. Both times after El Diablo left the cockpit he prayed, “God give me the strength!”
Juan felt the turbulence rock the aircraft. At first he thought it was just a couple pockets of wind blowing but it increased. He heard the luggage beneath shaking, then the turbulence increased and papers, pens, and everything else inside the plane flew everywhere as the frame screeched with pressure. It was the worst turbulence in his 23 year career as a pilot. He thought, I didn’t have the strength to take this craft into the ground or shoot El Diablo but God is going to handle it for me.
El Diablo stood facing Juan inside the cockpit shaking in terror. He held the wall like a frightened child and cried, “Are we going to crash? Are we going to die?”
Juan stared at the frightened coward in shock and grew some testicles. He remembered rumors that El Diablo was a ruthless, fearless killer of thousands of men that included police, D.A.’s, judges and other enemies in Mexico and D.E.A. agents and other enemies in the U.S and realized the Truth…he’s just a man like me. With that thought he felt strengthened for the decision; I am going to kill him! The turbulence ended.
El Diablo’s evil exterior returned. At 5’7 with an Indian blocky build and inky black eyes, he had a sloping forehead that exuded so much ugly that pure hate radiated out of his eyes. In an angry voice to make up for his earlier fear he said, “How far are we from the airstrip in Sinaloa?”
Juan felt his courage fading. He imagined pointing the jet straight at the ground in a nose dive. He thought, “I can’t! I’m going to have to figure out a way to shoot him!”
He said, “About 20 minutes.”
The next 20 minutes went by in a blur for Juan. He prayed for courage and tried to visualize the act of shooting El Diablo. He imagined pointing and shooting, pointing and shooting. It can’t be that hard, but I have never taken a human life! Then all hope was gone as the landing strip loomed ahead. It was filled with what looked like hundreds of Mexico’s military in uniform in two lines on both sides of the landing strip.
Juan concentrated on bringing the jet down smoothly. The two lines of Mexico’s military spread out in formation and circled the jet. He watched approximately 200 military uniforms close in like a pack of hyenas. The pressure felt like a knot around his neck and he realized he was clamping his teeth. Then he felt his neck pulsating and realized his heart rate was pounding so hard the side of his neck where the carotid artery seemed to thump visibly. Juan felt his apprehension squeeze past the point of no return as all that was left was getting the door to the cockpit opened.
El Diablo entered the cockpit radiating with evil confidence. Juan felt his fear showing and it seemed to magnify with every move. It felt like just reaching for his jacket pocket to feel the gun was telling El Diablo his exact intentions.
El Diablo did notice. He played it off. “Juan…You don’t look well. Maybe the turbulence caused you to get sick. I will take care of you on the ground. Come on, you have to go ahead of me. It’s customary for the pilot to lead the way.”
Juan felt his right hand shaking as he reached over his body to rest on his pistol. He wondered, is the safety on? How do I remove the safety? Do I click it so it’s even with the gun? Thinking about it made it that much harder to look back into El Diablo’s eyes. It felt like it took all the energy in the world to look back at him. Juan felt transparent as his eyes reached El Diablo’s and the act itself seemed to strengthen the evil smuggler.
El Diablo stared into the eyes of the scared pilot and felt his indecision add an even thicker element of tension.
Juan watched El Diablo as he seemed to understand everything with a surging confidence that propelled him into motion. He turned away to open the lock and lower the stairs and Juan realized this was his chance. He willed his arm to pull his gun while El Diablo wasn’t looking…
Too late. El Diablo finished his task and turned back to Juan.
El Diablo motioned with his arm for Juan to get up and lead the way and said in a pseudo caring voice, “You’ll feel better when your feet hit the ground. Now get down those stairs. Vamanos!”
Juan walked down the stairs with a frozen grimace. It felt like his legs weren’t connected to his body. Almost to the bottom, he willed his neck to turn. His eyes perceived the army of tightly grouped soldiers. Hardened, focused faces studied him sagaciously. He knew his body language was betraying him. Every eye from every angle was trained on him like a magnet. The added pressure enhanced the tension to the point it felt like he was floating, yet stuck in slow motion.
Juan noticed another crew of a dozen members for the first time closing in right in front of him. They were all dressed in black pin striped suits instead of uniforms but wore the same boots and gun belts and had the same painted camouflage faces as the sea of soldiers.
El Diablo walked to the biggest pin striped suit and kissed each cheek and whispered something. Then, he turned to Juan and motioned with his right hand, “Come here.”
The man in the pin striped suit circled Juan from behind. He pulled out a silenced gun and lifted it high in the air and nearly touched the top of Juan’s head facing down. The quiet spit of the gun firing was heard and Juan dropped to the ground, his brain matter a stain next to the crumpled body. Twenty feet away a military outfitted man screamed and grabbed his own leg. The bullet had ricocheted off the pavement. He yelled, “That’s why you don’t use full metal jacket bullets! You use hollow points!”
The rest of the pin striped unit reacted with precision. Four members removed a large leather bag shaped like a tight coffin from the back of a white van nearby. One member removed a roll of plastic and efficiently unrolled it. Three other members lifted Juan’s limp body, wrapped him in plastic, set him in the leather coffin and deposited the belongings back in the white van.
El Diablo watched the white van drive away and noticed the license plates. They were Mexican Military. The pinstriped suited man who shot Juan walked back to El Diablo and said, “Mucho gusto Diablo. Let’s go to my ranch.”
El Diablo got in a bullet proof Hummer and watched the military uniformed caravan surround their convoy in a protected escort. Driving down the dirt road El Diablo said, “SHADOW, you shouldn’t have shot Juan. You have to delegate duties that are beneath you to your soldiers.”
El Diablo stared out the window and listened to the new leader of the cartel, who went by the alias, SHADOW.
“After Ponce was removed I couldn’t just take over the cartel by barking orders. I had to execute all of the important moves with precision for all to see to leverage myself first. There were too many loyal soldiers influenced by Ponce who wondered if I set Ponce up to take the fall in Riverside.”
El Diablo slammed his elbow against the bullet pr
oof shield and then slammed his fist against it in a fit of rage, then yelled, “I told you to brainwash your members that Ponce allowed all the vital information to leak that put the cartel in jeopardy with the law! He leaked our smuggling routes, he leaked our most prized smuggling tunnels and he leaked out the military involvement!”
“I did explain that over a hundred times! I got so frustrated I started whacking people myself to deal with the pressure! The problem was that Ponce’s most loyal members knew it wasn’t his fault the information leaked. It was every member’s fault who ran their mouths about our operation to their wives and girlfriends! Ponce was the smartest one. He didn’t condone the loose lips. He made examples of those who flapped their mouths by cutting their testicles off and stuffing them in their dead mouths!”
El Diablo’s face turned red with rage and Shadow shut up. “Let’s get something straight. While Ponce was the leader every action underneath him represented his leadership. Does the Tail of a scorpion strike randomly?”
“You’re right Diablo but Ponce responded with those examples and then followed that with the swift execution of over a 100 women and children to seal the leak and set the example not to share our cartel’s information! It was the response of a conqueror.”
El Diablo shook his fist in the air to shut Shadow up. “Killing women and children is dishonorable. The whole deal is so disgraceful. The problem was to far reaching already. The cat was already out of the bag.”
El Diablo considered how he was the first one to seize on the crises and find opportunity. The author of the “Art of War” Sun Tzu would be proud of the way I stayed a few steps ahead of the problem by tipping off the Mexican president’s aides and my trusted D.E.A agent of the mass killings of the women and children. From there, Shadow needed my help and I helped him and leveraged myself with his cartel by pushing the blame for the mass killing of the women and children on the Michoacán cartel. That left a wide-open avenue for me to form the alliance. I thought everything was contained until the information leaked that the military was involved in escorting a billion dollar load through the border and into Texas. I had to talk to the prime minister and come up with what to tell the U.S. After a month of investigating the U.S believed my theory. That we believe the cartel bought military uniforms to camouflage their cartel members as if they were the Mexican military. El Diablo laughed, the U.S couldn’t argue that.
Upon Release From Prison Page 1