A Woman’s Work: Street Chronicles

by Nikki Turner

  Tate tried to be aggressive and set the tone for what he thought was about to be a magnificent evening. “Moet, baby, go to the back and put on one of those sexy-ass outfits that you wear onstage. You so damn fine, you have me in the corner screaming like a bitch,” he teased. Moet giggled and excused herself to go get dressed. While she was changing, I could hear Tate and Zoot whispering. “Yo, I thought you said your boy Stacks was out of commission and you’d be handling things. What happened? Before this shit went down, I was getting my keys for the low-low. Now your boy Carlos acts like he don’t know our situation. He ain’t even trying to front no yayo,” he said. I couldn’t believe my ears. Zoot had been supplying the enemy with our own product. Here I was thinking Carlos would be the weak link, and it was Zoot who was not only snitching but double-crossing. Hell, naw, this lame ass had to be dealt with.

  “Listen, man, I’ve been trying to earn my position back. Unfortunately for me, Taylor’s been made chairman of the street team. She’s changed my post, making me hang with both her and Jetta. I couldn’t stand his brother, Steelo, which is why I marked his ass. Being around him is like being with Steelo’s ghost. He’s a walking replica of that fool.”

  Did I just hear what I thought I did? Had he truly set up Steelo’s murder? He’d just signed his death certificate. I hoped his mother had insurance, ’cause she was about to need it.

  Moet returned to the room barely wearing a sexy two-piece ensemble. She had her portable stripper pole in her hands. She twisted it into its place and gave the guys a million-dollar smile. “Hey, boys, let’s role-play. I’ll play the stripper and y’all be my big ballers,” she said.

  “Fo’sho,” Tate said as he began taking out his roll and throwing money at her. Not to be outdone, Zoot took out two rolls of money and started throwing bills her way too. Moet was enjoying the attention. She stepped over to the stereo system, turned on some seductive music, and dimmed the lights.

  “Hey, Mo, you’re turning me the fuck on. I gotta get a piece of that good-good. I want to tap it first,” said Tate.

  “I got first dibs, nigga. It wasn’t my idea to invite you anyway,” Zoot said, crying like a baby.

  “Oh, suga, two is company and three’s a blast. I’m a bottle of bubbly, remember? Now bring that dick over to Momma,” she crooned in a sultry voice.

  Zoot trotted over to Moet, while Tate started taking off his clothes. I swear he was butt-naked before Zoot could even make it over to Moet. Zoot started fondling her, kissing one breast, and going down to her secret garden. Moet sighed with glee. She was either enjoying the attention or she was putting on a hell of an act. She looked toward the closet and winked at me, letting me know it was all a game. My girl was damn good. Tate joined the party and started kissing every place that Zoot wasn’t.

  “Damn, baby, you got the sweetest-tasting pussy,” Zoot said. He was smacking like it was a pastry.

  “Let me taste some of dat.” Without waiting his turn, Tate just dug in. He literally pushed Zoot out of the way and staked his claim.

  “Boys, I got a surprise for you,” Moet said, giving me my signal.

  “What’s the surprise?” they said in unison.

  “Remember I said we were going to role-play? Well, I have a new character for you guys. I want you both to try out for the part. The winner gets a special treat,” she teased.

  “What’s the part? I’ve been told I could’ve been the next Denzel or Jamie Foxx if I’d stuck with it in high school.” Zoot was really laying it on thick. He was not going down without a fight.

  Quietly I appeared out of the closet. I took Justice out and pointed at my target.

  That’s when I said, “The character she wants you to play is pussy, and you’re both about to get fucked.” My voice scared the shit out of them.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Tate said.

  “Uh, T, why you playin’ and shit? Put that gun down before you hurt somebody,” Zoot pleaded.

  “I know you don’t think I’m playing with your ass ’cause I’m not.”

  “T, why you holding that gun like that? We’re family and supposed to be as one,” Zoot was stuttering.

  “One? Are you kidding me? Family? Nigga, please, you are bad blood.” I was fighting both anger and tears. I thought of everything Zoot had done. He’d not only set Stacks up, he’d had Steelo killed. Oh, this nigga was about to get it. “Fuck, nigga, you got a lot of nerve. I heard every fuckin’ thing you said. You a fuckin’ snitch and a murderer. There’s no need to explain, motherfucka. You about to die.”

  I heard a strange noise from across the hall and briefly took my eyes off Zoot. Taking full advantage of the distraction, he jumped up and tried to take the gun from me, catching me completely off guard. We were suddenly in a tug-of-war with the gun. I wasn’t a weak bitch by any means, but this dude was really overpowering me. Somehow, while we were fighting for the gun I tripped, knocked over the coffee table, and fell to the floor.

  Trying to gain control, Zoot maneuvered his weight and rolled on top of me. He was prying my legs open like he was going to rape me. I was still hanging on to the gun. I wasn’t about to let up. It was him against me. We were both fighting for our lives. There was no way I was going to die. I began to fight with everything I had.

  I could see Moet out of the corner of one eye, and noticed her going for her gun. I knew my bitch had my back. I wasn’t worried.

  Tate seemed shocked by the events taking place. He was about to go for the gun he had hidden in one boot, but Moet beat him by a millisecond.

  “Not, so fast, nigga. You a little too slow on the draw. Raise your hands in the air where I can see them,” she said. He followed her order to the letter. He wasn’t about to test her. He knew she wouldn’t hestitate to shoot him. Without taking her gun off her target, Moet took his gun.

  Meanwhile, Zoot and I were still scuffling over my gun. I suddenly saw a way out. I kicked him in the groin with all my might and he doubled over in the fetal position. I’d gained full control of my weapon.

  I gathered myself off the floor and stood over him. I was out of breath, but my eyes told him what was what.

  Without another word, I popped him two in the head.

  Tate started crying and trying to plead his case. “Look, Taylor, I know I ain’t perfect or nothin’. That little shit that happened back then was a misunderstanding.” He looked at Moet, hoping to get some help.

  Moet wasn’t willing to be his cheerleader. “Bitch, I know you ain’t looking at me to save yo ass,” she said. She was staring him down, not budging or considering his whining.

  “Look, I know I was wrong, but two negatives don’t make a positive. You ain’t got to kill me. I ain’t gonna tell nobody that y’all murked that man. I didn’t like him no way.” He was crying now. What a sellout.

  “You’re right, you ain’t gonna tell nobody ’cause you ain’t gonna live to tell it, nigga. You stand to be corrected. Two negatives do make a positive, at least in the world of math.” I had talked enough. I pulled that nigga’s skull back and gave him three to the head. I shot him once for me, once for Stacks, and once for good measure. BAM! BAM! BAM!

  Moet and I stood there a second and looked at the two corpses lying on the ground. Then she quickly got dressed. True to her nature, she checked both their pockets, took all their money, and swiped every piece of jewelry. “They won’t be needing this where they’re going. I hope they burn in hell,” she said.

  While she was doing her sweep, I called Jetta and let him know that the deed was done. “Come through and take care of this. You’re going to need the cleanup crew.”

  I didn’t say another word. I looked at Moet and gave her a nod, letting her know everything was complete. Just like two boss bitches, we popped our collars and walked out the door.

  It Ain’t Over Until the Fat Lady Sings

  That night when my head finally hit the pillow, I was out like a light. Stacks’s parole officer called me the next morning to let me know tha
t she’d be in court that day. I was ecstatic. Stacks had no idea that she was going to push to reinstate his parole. I had hired a great lawyer, David Wolf, the Perry Mason of Atlanta, to make sure Stacks would have the best counsel possible. I quickly dressed to the nines and headed to the Fulton County Courthouse. I looked like a black Erica Kane. When Stacks’s legal team noticed me, they beckoned me over. Once they let me know the motions they had before the judge, I took my seat. In twenty minutes, the courtroom was filled to capacity. I looked around and saw Detective Morgan strut into the room. He had a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He just knew his shit didn’t stink.

  “Order in the court,” the bailiff announced. “This is the Honorable Jacob Means’s courtroom, District Four, Circuit Thirteen. This is a criminal court docket. There will be no cell phones, pagers, or electronic devices used. If you have them, please turn them off now. There will be no conversations or interruptions while court is in session.”

  The jailer brought in the inmates from the jail. They were handcuffed and shackled at the ankles as if they were on a chain gang. Stacks glanced around the courtroom and noticed me. He gave me a nod and a slight smile. I waved at him and smiled, showing all thirty-two teeth. He knew I was his number-one cheerleader.

  Shortly after all the inmates were escorted in and seated, the judge entered. “All rise,” the bailiff said in his deep baritone voice. Everyone stood and the judge explained how he ran his courtroom. We all listened attentively. He turned to his court clerk and asked for the court docket, which listed the order he would call the defendants. Fortunately, Stacks was up first. All paid attorneys have the first at bat in Judge Means’s courtroom.

  “Is there any special order that needs to come forth before I begin with the court proceedings?” the judge asked. None of the lawyers made a move, letting the judge know that business could continue.

  “Okay, let’s get going with today’s docket. Mr. Felix Martin, please stand with your attorney of record and approach the podium.”

  The judge seemed to be in a good mood, which was unusual, since he’s known as “mean as Hell.”

  “Mr. Martin is charged with violation of parole and possession of a firearm while being a convicted felon. State, let’s hear your case.”

  Robert Jenkins, the Assistant District Attorney for the state, approached the judge to give his detailed opening remarks. “Your Honor, Mr. Felix Martin is a known thug and drug dealer. He’s accused of violating his parole by carrying a gun. In addition to possession of a firearm, he was also in the process of completing a major drug deal that would have taken place had the authorities not learned of the crime and foiled it.”

  “Your Honor, that’s speculation,” said David Wolf, Stacks’s attorney. “The state can’t prove that my client was at the location in question to buy drugs. In fact, the state can’t even prove that there was a drug deal. No drugs were found at the scene of the supposed crime.”

  Judge Means looked at both attorneys and spoke sternly. “This is a court of law. What we will do today is try the facts, and only the facts. I don’t want to hear about circumstantial evidence. I don’t want to hear a lot of what-ifs, what could have beens, or what may bes. Do I make myself clear?” It was more like a statement than a question.

  Both attorneys nodded in unison.

  “Now, Mr. Jenkins, can you call your first witness?” Judge Means asked.

  “Your honor, I’d like to call Detective Morgan to the stand.”

  Morgan approached the witness box like a true professional. He looked like a picture cut out of Law & Order. He looked very clean-cut. Little did anyone know he was as muddy as the Mississippi River.

  After being sworn in, he took a seat.

  “Detective Morgan, are you the arresting officer of the defendant Felix Martin?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Could you give me a little background about the arrest and what you and your partner uncovered at the scene of the crime?” the ADA asked.

  “Of course I can. On the night in question, my task force and I were doing surveillance on a known drug dealer. We were told by some confidential informants that a big drop was going to be made. We joined the DEA and the local Red Dogs to make the biggest drug bust to date. While we were doing surveillance, we noticed Martin and an accomplice enter the gas station store with a duffel bag. We had just seen our mark enter the store a few minutes prior, so we knew the drop had been made.

  “One of our officers reacted too quickly and jumped before the command. In the middle of this fiasco, we believe Martin was able to dump the drugs. When we arrested him, no drugs were found. However, we did find two weapons. Martin’s accomplice claimed the first one, but we found the second gun directly on Martin. Since he’s a convicted felon, we booked him on the weapons charge. Ballistics were run to see if the gun had been used in a crime. So far, nothing’s come back, but we’re running it through the NIC system too,” he said, full of confidence.

  Mr. Jenkins felt like he’d already won his case. He was so sure of it, in fact, that not only did he call no other witnesses, he was ready to rest his case.

  The defense was up next. David Wolf was a pro, and just like his namesake, he was ready to pounce. The courtroom was his territory, and he ruled it proudly.

  He approached the witness stand. “Detective Morgan, you’re a decorated officer, correct?” The detective nodded.

  “I mean, you’ve had one hell of a career,” Wolf continued. “You were awarded the Purple Heart, you’ve been named Detective of the Year for the State of Georgia, and you’re the head of the task force for Zone Three. I must say, I’m impressed. You took those words ‘To serve and protect’ to heart.” Morgan looked a little uncomfortable, not sure where Wolf was going.

  “Your Honor, can he get to the point?” Jenkins said. “We all know about Detective Morgan’s achievements. Where is this line of questioning going? In fact, I haven’t heard a question at all.”

  Judge Means looked at Wolf and said, “Mr. Wolf, how do Detective Morgan’s achievements relate to your client?”

  “I’m glad you asked, Your Honor,” Wolf replied. “Detective Morgan is what we call the scum of the earth. Instead of fighting for the law, he’s taken the law into his own hands. He’s used his badge for his own selfish ends. He’s setting up innocent people, putting them in jail for crimes they didn’t commit, and stepping on them like dirt to climb the ladder of success.” He didn’t give the ADA a chance to get a word in.

  “Objection, Your Honor. This is pure speculation. This is defamation of character. This is unethical. I demand that he recant those statements.” The ADA was fuming.

  “First of all,” the judge said, “no one demands anything in this courtroom except for me. I’m shocked, Mr. Wolf, at your statements. You better have some proof to back up these statements, or not only will you be fined, but I’ll have the State Bar review this case. Now, what proof do you have of such allegations?”

  “Your Honor, may I enter exhibit A? It’s a tape recording of Detective Morgan admitting to not only setting Mr. Martin up but also to beating him and his accomplice.” Wolf was in rare form.

  Detective Morgan looked angry. “I’m not the scumbag here. Those drug-dealing fools are, and this—this—thuggish, coldhearted bastard is trash!” He couldn’t control his temper. The ADA tried to keep Morgan from speaking, but it seemed he’d gone into a zone.

  This was a spectacle, and I was surprised that Judge Means let it go on. I’m pretty sure I even saw him smirk.

  “Yeah, I may have planted something on him,” Morgan said. “Why not? They’ve been getting away with shit for so long. Somebody had to stop them. But instead of going after them, you want to go after me. I’m a taxpayer, for God’s sake. I keep your ass safe. Every night I go out there and fight crimes while you sleep in your comfortable beds. Then when we do bust these thugs, they go hire these high-price attorneys who get them off. So, yeah, I planted a gun, because I couldn’t catch him with th
e dope. I had to account for something; I had forty hours of manpower I had to explain to my superiors. If I didn’t get a bust, it was my ass. And, yeah, I roughed him up a bit. Who gives a damn? It’s better than the bullets he dodges every day. You people kill me. I mean, whose side of the law are you really on?” Morgan had clearly lost it.

  The courtroom was silent. As Wolf entered the evidence, he asked the judge if he could play the tape for the courtroom. Under normal circumstances it wouldn’t have been allowed. I mean, I wasn’t a police officer, and Morgan wasn’t aware that I’d taped him. But since he’d incriminated himself, it was fair game.

  After hearing the tape, we knew it was a win. I looked at Stacks and winked. I knew he’d be furious when he found out that I’d put myself in danger to keep him from going to prison, but I’d deal with that after he was free.

  After closing arguments, we sat on pins and needles waiting on the judge’s verdict.

  “In light of everything that has occurred, I’m really amazed. The law is supposed to serve and protect. But in this case it seems that some people took the law into their own hands. I’m here to make judgments based on the facts presented to me. It’s clearly an injustice to the people and the system I serve when one of our own believes himself to be above the law. I first of all demand the release of Mr. Felix Martin immediately. We apologize for the inconvenience.

  “I’d also like to demand an investigation of department standards and regulations by Internal Affairs, and I’m calling for Detective Morgan’s badge to be turned in until a full-fledged investigation is completed. Court is dismissed.”

  I ran over to Stacks and gave him a huge hug and kiss. He smelled like jail, but I didn’t give a damn.

  “Baby, I told you I had your back. I knew you were coming home. I’m so happy.” I was smiling from ear to ear.

  “Yeah, baby, you definitely put your work in on that one. I’m so happy to have you in my life. You’re a trouper, just like TI and Tiny. You had a nigga’s back. But, baby, I ain’t going to trip now, but if you ever put your life in jeopardy again, I’m going to be real upset, you hear me?” I knew he was serious and I understood.