Keyshia and Clyde

by Treasure E. Blue

  She saw that Sonny had not been subpoenaed because he was considered a hostile witness. This was a problem because she needed Sonny on the stand to admit that Martha had been the mastermind and architect behind the robbery, even though she would need to figure out how to force Sonny’s hand to get him to do so.

  “Mr. Williams, may I have a word with you?” Keyshia said as she peeked into his office.

  “Come in, Ms. Simmons,” he said, taking off his glasses.

  “I believe there is another conspirator in the Barker case.”

  T. Bernard rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his leather chair. He knew from experience that many up-and-coming interns became overzealous, and he wondered how he was going to tell Keyshia, his star intern, to leave the courtroom theories to the seasoned professionals. He liked Keyshia and didn’t want to deflate her enthusiasm for hard work and her vigor, so he indulged her.

  “What proof do you have?” he asked, trying to appear interested.

  “We could get the brother who is incarcerated to tell us who else was involved.”

  T. Bernard began to laugh aloud. “His brother is almost in his seventh year of a ten-year sentence with only three to go and you think he will rat on his brother after all these years? I don’t think so.”

  “I didn’t say anything about him ratting on his brother; I’m talking about the person who set everything up—his stepmother.”

  T. Bernard was thrown off guard, and Keyshia knew she had him rattled. “That’s right, I found out through a reliable source close to the defendants that Martha Woods, who raised both boys, was the actual ringleader of the bank robbery.”

  T. Bernard stared at Keyshia grimly and asked, “Does this reliable source that you mentioned have a name?”

  Keyshia paused to build up his anticipation and then said, “Ceasar Barker, their oldest brother!”

  T. Bernard leaned back in his chair and rubbed his beard. Keyshia knew she had him on the ropes and dropped the bomb: “Here are pictures dated five days prior to the robbery of her entering the same bank where the robbery occurred.” She handed him the pictures.

  He studied them silently, then tossed them on the desk. “Circumstantial; it doesn’t prove anything. She could have come there to visit the brother who worked there.”

  Keyshia was prepared and threw another folder on his desk. She smiled and said, “She has priors. She’s been arrested on racketeering charges in both 1968 and 1971, but was never charged because of lack of evidence. She was also arrested on embezzlement and credit card fraud in 1974, for which she served four years of an eight-year sentence in prison after she agreed to assist the government and testify against her coconspirators. And then”—Keyshia savored the moment—“in 1981, three years after she was released from prison, she was arrested for, you guessed it, conspiring to commit federal bank robbery.” Keyshia proudly handed him the entire folder, and T. Bernard flipped through each page.

  “Her boyfriend at the time was”—Keyshia opened up another file—“Rodney Walters. He and three other men were charged with robbing twelve other banks in the county of Manhattan over an eleven-month period. During the last robbery, the men fatally shot a security guard. Ms. Woods, once again, was offered an out since she was only the getaway driver and was granted full immunity if she testified against the men, who all received life sentences with no possibility of parole.”

  T. Bernard simply sat and stared at the folder on his desk. “There’s no way to tie her into this case,” he finally said. “Unless . . .”

  “Unless,” Keyshia said quickly, “one of the defendants testifies against her.”

  T. Bernard stood up and shook his head. “It won’t work because Ceasar Barker was never charged in the robbery, and only one of the defendants would be able to connect her to the case, and that is very unlikely and puts us back at square one.”

  “Sonny Barker will testify against her,” Keyshia said compellingly.

  T. Bernard just scratched his head and said, “How?”

  He listened to everything Keyshia told him and was impressed at how thorough she had been as she showed him documents, records, and police files. He had to admit that it was a long shot, but he was willing to take a chance to serve justice. He stared at the mound of evidence that Keyshia had piled on his desk and began to process it.

  “How do we get her to take the stand? We can’t subpoena her and ask her about her past; the judge won’t allow it.”

  “If she is called to the stand by the defense and asked to be a character witness, you can. According to his last transcripts, she testified as a character witness at Barker’s trial, and they are calling her again.” Keyshia presented him with the defense attorney’s witness list.

  He stared at the list. Then he gave her a sly smile and said, “Looks like we are ready for court, Ms. Simmons.”

  It was Sunday and one day before the trial. Keyshia’s stomach churned as she took the train upstate to visit Mrs. Barker at the nursing home. Over the last seven years, she, Ceasar, and little Clyde had been visiting her regularly, and they had grown close enough that Keyshia would feel her grip her hand from time to time, a sign that she always kept to herself because she didn’t want to give Ceasar any false hope. Keyshia spent many visits painting her nails or braiding her hair to try to make her feel better. Even when Ceasar was unable to make it, she still went on her own to visit and read to Mrs. Barker from her favorite book, Harlem Girl Lost.

  Keyshia told Ceasar that she needed to make this particular visit alone and asked if he could watch Clyde, Jr. for her. Ceasar agreed. He knew whenever Keyshia went on what seemed to him a baffling quest, it was always for the good of others—mainly for his brother Clyde—and that’s why he loved her so.

  As always, when Keyshia walked into her room, Mrs. Barker sat in the chair by the window, staring earnestly toward the heavens. Keyshia forced herself not to break down as she approached her and greeted her as she always did.

  “Hey, Ma, how you been doing this week?” Keyshia rubbed her hands and gave her a reassuring smile. She looked at Mrs. Barker’s frayed corn rows and said, “Oh, it looks like you are due for a touch-up.”

  Keyshia went into her bag and pulled out a jar of grease, a brush, and some combs and began to undo the braids. As Keyshia greased her scalp and braided her hair, she talked about everything under the sun, from Mrs. Barker’s grandson, to her three sons, to current events and even the weather. Keyshia had spoken to her like this for years even though she was unsure if Mrs. Barker understood her. Then one day as Keyshia was preparing to leave, she had asked Mrs. Barker if she was going to be okay. To Keyshia’s surprise, Mrs. Barker had given her a faint smile and nod. Keyshia had turned around to see if Ceasar had seen it, but he was busy with his nephew. Keyshia had stared back at Mrs. Barker and smiled. More and more, little things began to happen, and Keyshia just let it flow and was simply honored to have a “thing” between them.

  After Keyshia finished her hair, she pulled out Harlem Girl Lost, which seemed to be Mrs. Barker’s favorite novel also. Keyshia began reading it. She came to an emotional part of the book and couldn’t continue reading any further; she began to break down. All the pressure that she had been carrying on her shoulders for years had become too heavy, and she burst. She fell to the floor and buried her head in Mrs. Barker’s lap and began telling her the tearful truth.

  “I can’t go on anymore, Mrs. Barker, I just can’t! Everything is so bad. Tomorrow is Clyde’s trial, and I’m scared that if we don’t win this time he will be hit with even more time because I want to act like a damn lawyer!” Keyshia began to grow hysterical. “If he loses, what am I going to say? What am I going to do? They already took him from me for over seven years now, and I miss him, Mrs. Barker, I miss him so bad!” Keyshia lifted her head and looked at her future mother-in-law through a puddle of tears. “You are the only chance he got, Mrs. Barker, his only chance.” Keyshia gritted her teeth and yelled, “That damn Martha ruined both your so
ns’ lives, Mrs. Barker. They need you, they both need you. I need you! Please, please help me. I miss your son so, so much, and I don’t think I can go on if he loses at trial! I don’t think I could take it.” Terror was in Keyshia’s eyes as she pleaded on bended knees with Mrs. Barker. Keyshia looked for a sign from her, but she continued to stare blankly and remained silent. All hope was lost, and Keyshia squeezed her hand and cried as if life would surely end.

  But then she looked up, and what she saw amazed her.

  Chapter 39

  _______________

  It killed Keyshia to miss the first day of trial, but out of respect for Ms. Hemmingway she opted to wait until it was in full swing before she snuck into the courtroom. Ceasar was there, however, and during the recess, Keyshia waited inside a nearby coffee shop for him to fill her in on everything that went on. She was especially happy to hear that Clyde was in good spirits.

  The day ended as expected, and Keyshia knew that opening statements would begin the next day. She didn’t leave anything to chance and went straight to her office, making a last-minute call to ensure everything and everyone was in place.

  • • •

  Later that night, Ceasar stayed up late with Keyshia as she went over the last-minute details of the case. Keyshia noticed that Ceasar was not himself.

  “What’s wrong, Ceasar, you been quiet all night. What’s on your mind?”

  Ceasar looked at Keyshia and hesitated. “I don’t know. I’m starting to feel guilty from seeing Clyde on trial today.” He grimaced. “I mean, he didn’t have anything to do with none of this, but I did, and he’s been suffering for over seven years and I’m free.” Keyshia took off her reading glasses and listened to him share his feelings. “Here I am, guilty, and I let my little brother take the damn weight, Keyshia. What kind of man am I?” Keyshia tried to interject, but he stopped her. “No, hear me out!” he snapped. “I’m tired of feeling afraid and guilty. I can’t take it any longer.” Keyshia realized that he had been carrying the burden of Clyde’s incarceration for years. He looked at her and said, “Keyshia, I want you to tell them people that I was involved in the robbery so Clyde can come home.”

  “Ceasar, you don’t have—”

  “Keyshia!” Ceasar screamed as his voice cracked. “Listen to me!” He paused and looked in her eyes so she could get the message. “I want you to tell them people that I was involved and I’m ready to testify.” Keyshia stared at him as he assured her, “If you don’t do it, I’ll go to them myself, but I know I can no longer go on knowing I didn’t do anything for my brother.” Tears began to stream down his cheeks as he nodded to Keyshia with a smile and said, “I’m ready, sis.”

  Keyshia hugged him. When they pulled apart, she had her head down because she knew that she would be losing him and couldn’t do anything about it. She loved Ceasar just like a brother and asked him, “Ceasar, do you trust me?” Before he could answer, she reiterated, “I mean, do you really trust me?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, you know I trust you, Keyshia, but I’m standing by what I said.”

  “Okay, and I respect you for that and I won’t stop you, but can you just do me one favor and give me two days? Two days—and if you’re not sure that Clyde will get off by then, I’ll rat you out myself on the evening news if I have to, okay?” Ceasar shook his head and smiled at her silliness.

  “Okay?” she asked again, but this time she nudged him in his midsection, causing him to giggle. “Okay, now let me see those pearly whites.”

  Ceasar smiled and yelled before she tickled him again, “Okay, Keyshia! But I’m serious. If all ain’t over in two days, I’m doing what I said.”

  “Is counsel ready to proceed?” asked the judge as he looked down from his bench at the prosecutor.

  “Yes, Your Honor, the government is ready,” said T. Bernard as he rose from his seat and stood poised and tall and gazed at the jurors.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Let me introduce myself. I’m T. Bernard Williams, representing the United States of America in this important case.” He paused to let them feel the effect of his words. He appeared relaxed and confident as he approached the jurors to continue his sermon-style delivery. “My intention this morning is to help you foresee what you will hear over the next few days or weeks as you listen to evidence. I merely want to give you a general idea of the government case against Clyde Barker and thank you in advance for your patience and undivided attention. Your willingness to serve is a true reflection of your sense of civic duty and commitment to serve justice.” He was a master at seducing his audience when needed. “Let me say right up front that the government is aware of the burden of proof we bear in this case, and we are confident that by the end of the trial you will be able to see that we have more than met that burden. That is my promise to you. You will see from reliable testimony and hard evidence presented that the defendant had motive, opportunity, and means to commit the crime. In addition, we have firmly established the identity of the criminal offender to be that of the defendant in this case through evidence.

  “Now, you will repeatedly hear the defense say that the government’s case rests on circumstantial evidence, implying that because the defendant didn’t enter the scene with the other men convicted of this crime, they weren’t in concert. But in the law of our land, planning a crime is equal to doing the crime. But the defense will use terms like ‘innocent victim at the wrong place at the wrong time’ or ‘victim of circumstances,’ and basic common sense will serve you in seeing that this was merely his excuse for being in a place that happened to be the place of employment by someone so close to him—a bank!” As if it were a comedy performance, T. Bernard threw up his hands and said, “And it doesn’t stop there, ladies and gentlemen. The person who was actually robbing the bank happens to be someone equally close to him.”

  T. Bernard observed their eyes closely as he chuckled. “The evidence is going to be so overwhelming, ladies and gentlemen, that the defense”—he pointed in their direction—“will try to insult your intelligence by somehow making you believe that he was . . .” T. Bernard snickered sarcastically. “In the wrong place at the wrong time!” He ended his opening statement like that and swaggered back to his chair.

  It was the defense attorney’s turn to make an opening statement. “Defense, are you ready to proceed?” said the judge. Ms. Hemmingway sat back without saying a word, then rose suddenly and smiled.

  “Yes, Your Honor. The defense is ready.”

  She walked directly up to the jurors and gazed at each and every one of them and said in a soft yet confident voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today because a tragedy has occurred. An innocent young man, an innocent young father, an unsuspecting individual, was the victim of a senseless act. You and I could just as easily have been in the situation leading up to the event that brought us here today. But there is a second tragedy in this case, ladies and gentlemen.” Ms. Hemmingway’s face turned mournful as her voice turned sorrowful. “My client, Clyde Barker, not only saved the life of an overzealous, thrill-seeking security officer, but possibly prevented the potential bloodbath of many others by standing up and saying no, putting his life in harm’s way. In the process, the only gain he would receive was knowing he’d done the right thing. But today, he stands here before you wrongfully accused of a crime.”

  Ms. Hemmingway walked over to where Clyde sat and pointed. “But before your very eyes, look where he sits.” All the jurors stared at Clyde, who still looked eighteen. “He is sitting before you in the fight of his life!”

  Ms. Hemmingway walked with her head down all the way back to where they sat, as if she were exhausted and nothing made sense. She stretched out her arms. “Try to imagine, if you will, what it feels like to be falsely accused of the things the prosecutor wants us to consider. How would you react if you were in the same predicament, how would you react if this were your brother, your father, your son?” Ms. Hemmingway paused purposely to allow them to absorb the words. “
What Mr. T. Bernard Williams failed to tell you, ladies and gentlemen, is that there is no real evidence linking my client, Clyde Barker, to the robbery other than being related to the real robber, who has already been charged and convicted for the crime. We cannot assume that because he is related to an individual who happens to be a career criminal, he should be convicted as well, nor should we depend on the kind of shoddy police work you will see exposed in the government case. Please keep asking yourself the hard questions, and remember there’s always another side to every story. Mr. Williams is right about one thing so far: I will use terms like ‘wrong place at the wrong time’ and ‘victim of circumstances.’ ” Ms. Hemmingway said earnestly, “But I will promise you, ladies and gentlemen, that I will not insult your intelligence, because I’m sure you can separate the truth . . .” She paused and looked over her shoulder at T. Bernard and said sarcastically. “From . . . and pardon my expression, the bull!” Many of the jurors laughed. Ms. Hemmingway had drawn first blood, and T. Bernard knew it and stewed in his seat.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, promise me you’ll listen to the whole story and prevent another tragedy from occurring—the wrongful conviction of an innocent person. Thank you,” Ms. Hemmingway said. She nodded to the judge as she walked back to her chair and put her hand on Clyde’s shoulder.

  “At this time, ladies and gentlemen, there will be a fifteen-minute recess,” said Judge Denton. “Remember, nothing pertaining to the trial is to be discussed amongst yourselves at this time.”