Paper Chasers

by Mark Anthony

  Unfortunately, there was not much that I could do about that. All I was sayin’ was that it was just mad foul that Randy’s so-called “boys” wouldn’t even come peep him while he was in the joint.

  I got in my car and was able to make it to Rikers Island in about thirty to forty-five minutes. After arriving, showing my identification, and being treated like a prisoner by the correction officers, not to mention passing through many metal detectors and waiting on this long line, I was finally able to see Randy.

  The correction officers brought me to this big room that was filled with desks and with other visitors. The room was also filled with inmates who, of course, came to talk to their respective guests.

  I sat down at a desk and waited for Randy to come out. After about a ten-minute or so wait, he emerged in a bright orange jumpsuit with some shoelace-less black Reebok sneakers. After recognizing me, he walked over to me, bopping like a true thug, and sat down right in front of me.

  “What’s up, big Holz?” Randy asked as he smiled and slapped my hand. “My mellow, my man!”

  “I don’t know? You tell me, Baby Pa.”

  “I’m just reacting, that’s all. I’m trying not to think. I’m just reacting, you know? Yo, Holz, let me tell you, kid, this place ain’t no joke! This is just a holding jail for cats waiting to go to trial, but yo! Woo! This ain’t no state or federal penitentiary, but it’s still wild in this joint.”

  “Have you been brawling?” I asked as I noticed all the bruises on Randy’s grill.

  “No. Why?”

  “Because your face looks like it’s kind of puffy and bruised.”

  “Oh. Nah, that’s not from in here. That’s from the day that I got arrested. See, the cops took me back to the precinct and they beat me like a slave! Yo, Holz, I’m talking about a Kunta Kinte type butt whipping. First of all, they had me in this dimly lit room. They kept my hands handcuffed behind my back while I sat in a chair. I didn’t want to talk because I didn’t have a lawyer with me, and I’m sayin’, I wasn’t trying to incriminate myself, you knaaimean?”

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “So, yeah, like I said, they had me in this room and I was sitting in a chair with my hands handcuffed behind me and yo, Holz, they beat the crap out of me! I really thought that I was gonna die. It got to the point where I was just numb from all of the blows. Yo, I had to talk. They told me that if I didn’t admit to killing the two DTs that they would murder me. And I believed them, so I just let it out. They wanted all kinds of details, but I couldn’t even speak because I was in so much pain and my mouth was all bloody and swollen.

  “Then when I admitted to them that I didn’t do it alone, they really let me have it. They tried hard as hell to make me tell them who else was with me. But, Holz, as God is my witness, they would have had to kill me before I would’ve ever ratted on any of y’all. I was like, yo, I guess I’m a meet God tonight, ’cause I ain’t a punk like that. I would never drop dime on y’all, you knaaimean?”

  “Man, Randy, you should have ratted on us.”

  “What?”

  “You should’ve told,” I repeated while bowing my head.

  “Holz, what the hell are you talking about? I got caught. Y’all didn’t. I’m gonna do my time like a man. My name ain’t Michael Jackson. I don’t sing on niggas, word! You know I don’t get down like that. I did the crime, now I gotta do the time.”

  I repeated myself. This time with a little more emphasis.

  “Randy, all I’m sayin’ is that you should’ve ratted us out! I would probably be better off in here. Matter of fact, all of us would be better off in the big house. This is where we belong.”

  “I don’t understand. ’cause, man, Holz, I haven’t even been in here that long and already I’ve seen guys get raped until they bled. Yo, it’s ill. Talk about fights, it’s like the WWF up in here all day long—blacks versus blacks, Puerto Ricans versus blacks, whites versus Mexicans. The other day I saw a correction officer get slashed with a homemade weapon. The food sucks. It’s overcrowded. Holz, I’m constantly watching my back. You can’t tell me that you’d rather be in here, or that you’re better off in here. That’s bull! You think our crew acts like cavemen? Man, imagine being locked up in here for years. How do you think you would respond? I tell you one thing, your response would be much worse than the one that got you in here.

  “Jail, the process needs to be revamped. This place doesn’t rehabilitate, it makes you degenerate. It desecrates you, caging human beings up like wild animals. How can a person come out of here and fit back into society if his mind hasn’t been exercised, exercised to rid the wrong that was in him? All this place does is help bring out the wrong that’s in a person. Jail fosters evilness. It sets you up to walk through a revolving door. Since I’ve been in here, the only thing that I’ve allowed myself to think about is the harsh realities that go along with being locked up. Holz, ‘The Man’ is making mad money off of us. But, yo, I can’t even speak on this system anymore, ’cause I might get enraged and slaughter somebody in this prison!”

  I finally got a chance to speak.

  “Yo, Randy, look at all of these black people in here. What are we doing?”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s jacked up, ain’t it? But, Holz, I’m in here, too. And I’m not even sure if I really feel remorseful. Because I know if I had more clips that night, I would have shot those cops some more. The only thing that stopped me is that I ran out of bullets. That’s the only thing that stopped me!”

  “Randy, I’m feeling you. You just an ill nooka! You caught mad wreck that night. You was like our man Larry Davis. You maimed those DTs like you was a homicidal juggernaut. Man, Randy, you’re an American hero. Don’t let nobody tell you different. A’ight?” Randy laughed.

  “I don’t know about being no American hero, but I know that I am definitely ghetto fabulous. You should see how much love and respect cats is giving me up in here because I killed those two pigs.”

  “Ahh, ‘ghetto fabulous.’ I like that, kid. But, yo, remember that night when I was pulling away from the curb and you yelled out the window and then you let the gun go off? Ha ha ha. Randy, I’m telling you, man, only an all-American, ghetto fabulous nigga hero could have done that! Nah, better yet, you’re gonna be a ghetto celebrity.”

  “I don’t know if I’m a ghetto celebrity, but what you just said about me letting off those last few bullets, that’s what I’m talking about. That’s when I ran out of bullets. I wanted to make sure that those DTs were dead! Holz, man, after all of those times they had harassed us in the past, man, it was only right. It was like bang, bang, bang! Yo, I’m telling you, them bullets felt real good leaving my hand. Yo, Holz, one bullet hit Detective Gates right square in his head! Boom! It was mad funny. Did you see it? His straight, blond hair stood up on top of his head like he’d been electrocuted. He looked like Don King or somebody. Then his brains just spilled out. Oh, it was a beautiful thing. Ha, ha, ha. Holz, I saw his brains! Did you see that? Holz, I saw his brains!”

  “Yeah, I saw it. Randy, listen.”

  “No, wait a minute, Holz. Let me finish.”

  Randy talked and talked. I’d never known him to be such a talker.

  “Remember that Bernhard Goetz thing where he shot, I think, four or five black guys? He shot them because he ‘thought’ he was gonna get robbed. What kinda crap is that? And yo, the cat got off! Holz, he beat all of the charges except for the gun charge! Now if he got off then I know that I better get off.”

  “Yeah, Randy, I remember that.”

  “Holz, he didn’t kill any of those guys, but I think that he left one of them paralyzed. Still, it was coldblooded attempted murder, so how did he get off? No no, I’m wrong. He did maybe six months to a year for the illegal gun, or for weapons possession, something like that, I don’t exactly remember. But if that’s not bull, I don’t know what is. I mean picture me trying to get off by telling a jury, ‘Oh, I thought that I was gonna get harassed by the cops, therefore
I shot them.’ Now doesn’t that sound ridiculous? Yet if you scope it out, my case would be just as strong as Bernhard Goetz, for the simple reason that cops do harass us and brutalize us on a constant basis. So every time they pull us over, I feel like I might lose my life at their hands.”

  “Word! Yo, Randy, that’s true. When you think about it, that’s a good point.”

  “I know. Damn right it’s true, and I know it’s a good point! But I would never get off with a weak defense like that. You know why? ’cause number one, I’m black, and number two, ’cause cops can do no wrong. A cop’s life is no better than my life or your life. A cop is a human being just like you and me, only he’s got a badge. Their lives aren’t better than Richie’s life, Xavier’s life, or anyone’s life. God creates all of us equal. So why, if you kill a cop, is it basically an automatic twenty-five years, no questions asked? Not to mention that they’ll make sure that they catch you in about two weeks. When they caught that guy Cory who killed Richie, they let him out of jail, in what, six or seven days? It’s ridiculous, Holz! It’s pathetic and ridiculous! Remember when those drug dealers shot that cop over in South Jamaica, Queens?”

  “Yeah, he was guarding somebody’s house, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Remember how quick they caught the guys who killed that particular cop? And where are those niggas at now? Them niggas is upstate doing hard time. And I won’t even mention the deal with Larry Davis. Holz, they go after cop killers because society thinks one of the worst things that a human being can do is murder a cop. The only reason society thinks like that is because they look at that dark blue uniform. When they see that uniform and that badge, they see the greatest human being that ever walked the face of the earth. They put cops right up there alongside Jesus. They see a good, clean, wholesome, apple pie, red, white, and blue, white picket fence, home-in-the-suburbs American who can do no wrong. You see, they never look into the lives of cops outside of their job. If they did, then chances are they wouldn’t care if a cop got shot or not.”

  “Randy, I think exactly like you think. Everything that you’re saying, I’ve already thought about over and over.”

  “Holz, society doesn’t care if we get shot or killed, because they think that we are all subhuman. They think we are all thieves, murderers, and rapists. Yet if you look back on our people’s true history, you’ll be able to examine all of the greatness. See, everybody forgets about that and they focus on the grave conditions that exist now. That’s why somebody could shoot me and kill me in cold blood and get away with it. That’s why I’m in this joint right now. If society changed its mindset, if it started looking into our personal lives, finding out what we’re capable of achieving in terms of bettering this world, it wouldn’t allow us to kill ourselves the way we do. Society would ensure that our killers were vigorously sought after, tried, convicted, and crucified the same way cop killers are.”

  “Come on, Randy, be for real! You’re talking about the same society that praises soldiers for killing thousands of innocent people, then turns around and looks down on me or you for killing one or two corrupt cops.”

  “I know, Holz, it’s the same society that praises and looks up to John Gotti, then turns around and hates Al Sharpton. Go figure . . .” I started to laugh.

  “Yeah, what’s the deal with that, Randy?”

  “Holz, I don’t know, but you know what? It doesn’t matter anyway, ’cause we can’t change nothing. Matter of fact I’m tired of talking about this. Talking about society changing for us, man it’s just a waste of our good energy. So, what else is up, Holz? What’s been going on since I’ve been in here?”

  “Everything, Randy. Everything! First off, I think the crew is finished. Everybody’s out for themselves.”

  “Yeah, how is the crew doing?” Randy asked with concern showing on his face. “What’s up with Latiefe? Has anybody seen him?”

  “Yeah, we saw him the day after you and him had that little scrape inside the Red Zone. We saw him maybe once or twice after that night. Then he told me that he wasn’t gonna be around anymore. He said that he was leaving, but he wouldn’t tell me where he was going. He just said something about starting his life over.”

  “Holz, he probably moved in with his girl Esther in her apartment in Brooklyn.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t know. It’s like he just disappeared. He don’t even collect the dough for us anymore. Nor does he receive any money from us. It was all his choice to give everything up. Don’t ask me why. But, yo, all I know is that the other day two girls came by the apartment looking for Latiefe.

  “Both of them were like two months pregnant. I didn’t know what to tell them. I think they needed some loot, but, yo, what was I gonna do for them? I guess that means that there will just be two more babies brought up in this world without a father.”

  “Holz, that’s crazy,” Randy said, sounding disgusted.

  “Yo, you remember when Earl was alive and how he cared for his little daughter? People could say what they wanted to about Earl, but at least he took care of his responsibilities. He was always there for his daughter.”

  Randy nodded in agreement.

  “Oh! Randy, guess what, kid?”

  “What?”

  “The other day I beat the daylights out of Jamal. I’m talking about a major beat down!”

  “Which Jamal?”

  “You know, the one that sells for us. That nigga came up short on like two thousand dollars. Now how do you come up short by that much?”

  “He kept the loot for self. He didn’t come up short. You know he didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I know that! He probably figured that he could get over on me being that Latiefe had stopped collecting the loot. But, yo, I ain’t stupid! I ain’t no sucka! Randy, I beat that nigga down! I’m talking, I cut him on his face and he bled like a leaky faucet. He was straight leaking right in the middle of the street. I was gonna kill him, but I just beat him with a baseball bat instead. I figured that killing him would have been too easy, so I tried my hardest to break both of his knees. Man, I hope he slipped into a coma and is in ICU somewhere. Randy, I was already stressed. I mean here I am working my hardest to get up your bail money, then this nigga is gonna come up short? I was like, if that’s not bringing a death wish on yourself, I don’t know what is.

  “Dwight told me that I should watch my back because he said that Montana was close to Jamal. Plus Montana doesn’t like it when someone other than himself hurts one of his workers, especially if he didn’t give the order to have the person hurt or killed. Hurt drug dealers in his crew basically equal lower sales for him, so that’s why he dreads it with a passion.”

  “Holz, you gotta chill. You can’t just be doing niggas like that. Plus, you don’t want Montana to find out that we had his boys working for us on the low!”

  “Man, Randy, I don’t even care! I mean, I think Montana is gonna find out anyway. Especially now, considering how everybody’s cash is starting to get real thin. Montana is bound to find out because everything always comes out in the wash. You knaaimean? But whateva. I mean I can’t worry about that.”

  “Holz, just be careful, because niggas will snake you and cut your throat in a second. So just watch out for his hit man, that nigga Be-Bo. ’cause Montana ain’t necessarily the type of cat that will kill you. He just hires ruthless cats to do it for him.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. That nigga Be-Bo, he be doing all of Montana’s hits. I know exactly who that nigga is. But Randy, I can’t be walking on eggshells. I gots to do my thing, and believe me, we’ll have you up outta this piece by next week.”

  Randy reminded me that his birthday was on September third, and that he wanted more than anything to be home for his birthday. I promised him that he wouldn’t be in the joint on his twenty-first birthday.

  “Yo, Holz, I gotta tell you the story,” Randy said.

  “What story?”

  “Yo, after I got caught in the okey doke, I told you how Five-O took me bac
k to the precinct and waxed my behin’. Right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well my face was so jacked up with bruises, that there was no way that the D.A. was gonna bring me into a courtroom and have me formally arraigned on charges. See, the D.A. knew that every TV camera in the city had me on tape when I got bagged. The D.A. also knew that there were no blemishes on my grill when I was being led into the police car. So after the cops had beat me down, my lawyer took pictures of my grill, and my body, and all that. My lawyer then took the pictures to the D.A. and he told the D.A. that if they didn’t delay the arraignment, he was gonna bring the city up on police brutality charges, ’cause how else could my face and body have gotten so jacked up like that? Especially when the actual precinct mug shot pictures that they took of me showed no cuts, black eyes, or bruises.

  “The D.A. was caught between a rock and a hard place, because although he knew that we had no defense going into this whole case, he didn’t want this police brutality thing to cause the prosecution to have trouble getting a conviction. Like any elected official, the D.A wants to get re-elected, and that explains why they have full time publicists on their staff, and that is why they must get convictions in all of their high profile and high publicity cases, because come election time people always remember the high profile cases. Anyway, he wanted to make sure that he built an open and shut case. See, if I walk, the city and the entire state will go crazy, and the D.A. won’t stand a chance of getting re-elected. Now with brutality in the picture, things changed. He knew that my lawyer could play that up in a million different ways.

  “And like I said, the D.A. was stuck. See, taking certain mitigating circumstances into account, by law the system can’t hold anyone longer than like five or six days, unless they’ve been formally charged. If the police do hold someone too long without formally charging them, then by law they technically have to let the person go, scot-free, no matter what the crime is. My lawyer kind of sparked a pretrial plea bargain behind that technicality.