Keyshia and Clyde

by Treasure E. Blue

  “Any cross, Ms. Hemmingway?”

  “No, Your Honor,” said Ms. Hemmingway.

  Mrs. Barker walked slowly over to Clyde’s table, and he jumped to his feet and gave the mother he never knew a hug and held on to her for dear life. Ceasar approached the front and joined brother and mother in a hug as they all cried together. A bailiff came out of the witness door and whispered in T. Bernard’s ear and passed him a note. T. Bernard read it and said to the judge anxiously, “Your Honor, I would like to call Sonny Barker back to the stand!”

  “I was going to call a recess. How long is this going to take?”

  T. Bernard said, “Your Honor, I assure you it won’t be long.”

  The judge nodded and told his bailiff to fetch the witness.

  When the three officers walked in with Sonny this time, they no longer had to manhandle him to his seat. Sonny’s entire demeanor seemed to have changed. He no longer had a mean scowl on his face but instead wore a humble, happier look as he searched around and spotted Ceasar sitting in the front row with their mother. Tears came to Sonny’s eyes when he saw his mother wave to him. He wiped his eyes and waved back.

  T. Bernard walked directly to where Sonny sat and asked, “Are you ready, son?” Sonny looked at Martha, and his face turned sour. He turned back to T. Bernard and nodded.

  Sonny went on to answer every question that he was asked, and when he got to the part about how he got into a life of crime, he explained, “I was about thirteen when I did my first major robbery. It was a numbers spot in my neighborhood.”

  T. Bernard nodded. “You were very young. How did you pull it off?”

  “I had somebody on the inside who worked there, and all I had to do was point a gun around and they put all the money in a bag.”

  “Who was that inside person, Sonny?”

  Sonny turned and looked directly at Martha and pointed. “It was her, Martha Woods. She worked there at the time.”

  There were a few gasps.

  “Where did you get the weapon to rob the place, Sonny?”

  “Martha gave it to me.”

  “Did she set you up with any more robberies after that?”

  “Yes,” Sonny said casually.

  “How many others?”

  “I don’t know. I lost count.”

  “How did she get you these robberies?”

  Sonny paused and then said, “She would scope the places out and find out where the weak points were and devise a plan with the best time and way I should do it.”

  “Did you like doing these dangerous holdups?”

  Sonny thought about the question. “At the beginning, I was scared to death and used to tell her I didn’t want to do it anymore.”

  “What did she do?” asked T. Bernard as he walked toward the jurors’ railing.

  “She would call me names.”

  “What kind of names?”

  “She would say I was soft, a sissy, and that I was a punk son of a bitch like my father. If that didn’t work, she would cry and say that she didn’t have any money to feed us and that me and my brothers would starve if I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t see my brothers starve, so I would give in.” T. Bernard watched as every juror gave Martha a malicious glare.

  “Sonny, was Martha Woods in any way involved with the bank robbery that happened at the First Bank of Savings in Harlem?”

  “Yes, she was the one who set everything up. She even made sure that my older brother, Ceasar, who worked at the bank, wouldn’t be at work that day so he wouldn’t recognize me.” T. Bernard looked at the jurors and was satisfied he’d done his job. He nodded to Sonny and said, “Thank you, Mr. Barker.”

  The judge said, “Cross, Ms. Hemmingway?”

  “Just one question, Your Honor,” she said as she walked to Sonny. “Mr. Barker, did your younger brother, Clyde, have anything to do with the robbery at the First Bank of Savings?”

  “No, he didn’t! We didn’t even know he was going to be in the bank. That was the reason I didn’t want my other brother, Ceasar, to be at work that day, so he wouldn’t be in harm’s way! If I knew Clyde was going to be there, I would have never done it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Barker. Good luck with your future.”

  “Your Honor,” T. Bernard said, “the government rests!”

  Ms. Hemmingway said, “Your Honor, the defense requests an immediate dismissal in response to the testimony of Sonny Barker.”

  While Ms. Hemmingway knew that her motion would probably be denied, she wanted to reinforce in the jurors’ minds that the defense had done some damage during cross-examination.

  “Motion denied,” said the judge.

  Ms. Hemmingway smiled and said, “Then the defense rests, Your Honor.”

  Mrs. Barker stayed overnight with Keyshia, her grandson, and Ceasar, and for the first time in over twenty years, Ceasar felt as if he had a family. For any child, not having his mother in his life can cause irreparable emotional and psychological damage. Because he was never fully nurtured, he would always search for love, pleasure, and security. Many would always find their needs unfulfilled and would seek comfort and solace in codependency—through drugs, alcohol, sex, or crime. But none of these methods are enough to fill the void within. But the ones who get beaten enough, humiliated enough, and pained enough may come to believe that only they and God could ever make them whole, if they only searched within.

  The next morning, they all arrived at court bright and early for the closing arguments and jury deliberation. By eight forty-five, the courtroom was packed, and Ceasar and his mother and his young nephew sat in the front row. Keyshia stayed in the back to ensure no conflict of interest would enter the equation and ruin things for Clyde. When Clyde was finally brought out, he smiled immediately when he saw his family gathered together directly behind him, including his mother and his son.

  Finally, at nine-ten, the Honorable Theodore S. Denton exited his chambers and entered the courtroom.

  “All rise for the Honorable Theodore S. Denton!” shouted the bailiff. All the spectators rose to their feet.

  “Take your seat,” muttered the judge. He surveyed both defense and prosecutor tables and bellowed, “Bring the jurors out.” The bailiff retreated through the witness chambers and brought out the twelve jurors. In single file they walked to their assigned seats, with apparent readiness to get the trial over with and go about their lives. Once they were all seated, the judge cleared his throat and greeted them.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Today you will hear the closing arguments. The government will present the first closing argument and may reserve time for rebuttal. The defense will then present its closing argument, and after all rebuttals are rendered, you will be instructed to go to a room, where you will begin deliberation, weighing evidence and testimonies that you heard. Do you understand?” Each juror nodded.

  “Mr. Williams,” yelled the judge, “is the government ready to proceed with its closing argument?”

  T. Bernard snapped to his feet like a heavyweight boxer during rounds and said loudly and crisply, “Yes, Your Honor, the government is ready!”

  “Proceed,” said the judge.

  T. Bernard walked toward the jurors as if he were contemplating the precise words to say. He stopped directly in front of the jury’s railing, wrapped his arm around his chest, and began rubbing his chin. It was so silent that you could hear a pin drop when he said softly, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have to admit to you today that this has been one of the most emotional and gut-wrenching trials that I have ever had to prosecute in my eight years working for the government. Like you, I’m touched and saddened when I hear about the tragic unfairness that is inflicted upon families, but I must tell you that the courtroom is not the place to right personal injustices. We truly have to look past the evil that men do, the evil that women do, in order to get through the reasons that we are all brought together here today, and that is to serve justice for a crime that had been committed by Clyd
e Barker. As much as we want this to be a perfect ending where the family is reunited and lives happily ever after from now on, we know that isn’t reality. Reality is living on life’s terms no matter what we have been through in our lives, and that’s what makes us civilized and that’s what keeps us safe—if not, there would be anarchy! If a person was beaten as a child, he or she doesn’t have the right to beat others because he or she got beaten. If a person was hated as a child, that doesn’t give him the right to hate the world. Clyde Barker is that child and didn’t deserve the way life turned out for him, but that doesn’t give him the right to commit an atrocious crime and blame it on his upbringing.”

  T. Bernard went into a tirade that would have made any preacher proud as he masterfully mesmerized the jurors. He went on for another fifteen minutes until finally he finished and thanked the jurors.

  “Ms. Hemmingway, your closing argument,” said the judge.

  Ms. Hemmingway stood at her table as if she, too, were searching for the right words to say. She lifted her head and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, if you remember from the opening argument, I promised you that I would not insult your intelligence. I think I’ve kept my promise. I told you that I would prove to you that my client was in the wrong place at the wrong time and, yes, a victim of circumstance. I think I did that. Now I stand before you today, after three days of testimony, evidence, and facts that prove beyond an inkling of doubt that my client, Clyde Barker, is innocent—and I think . . . no, I know I proved that! The government proved nothing. Absolutely nothing. Their handling of the case has been a miscarriage of justice, and no doubt, the judge will remind you of the burden of proof. This is not a civil trial. We require high levels of proof, ladies and gentlemen. Surely you must have doubts, and if you have even one doubt—just one!” Mrs. Hemmingway looked every one of the jurors in their eyes before continuing. “Then by law, you must bring back a not guilty verdict and reject any misguided interpretations which point to guilt.” She paused and walked over to Clyde. “Contrary to popular belief, we do not want your vote simply because you feel sorry for our client, who was wrongfully accused. We want your vote because he is one hundred percent innocent.” She walked quickly over to the jury and raised her voice as if her life depended on them hearing her. “The time has come for you to decide, and the choice may not be as difficult as you might think. If you are not one hundred percent sure, you must return a verdict of not guilty.”

  • • •

  The jury had deliberated for only three hours when the bailiff called the courtroom to order. Keyshia was so nervous that she broke her rule and edged closer to the front row. Like clockwork, the judge came lumbering out of his chambers and up to his bench. He shuffled some paperwork and looked at his bailiff. Electrified silence engulfed the courtroom at that moment as Ceasar hugged his mother with one arm and bit his fingernails with the other.

  “I have been informed that the jury has reached a verdict. Is that correct, Mr. Bailiff?”

  “Yes, they have, Your Honor.”

  “Okay, then. Mr. Bailiff, would you seat the jury.”

  It took the bailiff three minutes to bring out the jury, but to Keyshia it seemed like an eternity. The door finally opened, and as if it were déjà vu, Keyshia began to grow sick to her stomach. She looked at her man looking defenseless as two federal officers moved to flank him. She suddenly felt an urge to hug him. It was as if Clyde had felt her pain—he turned around, smiled, and whispered, “Body language.”

  Keyshia thought he was going mad until she looked at the faces and eyes of the passing jurors and began to smile herself. Ceasar stared horrified at Clyde smiling back at Keyshia and at her smiling at him. He saw no humor in what was going on at the moment. All the jurors finally took their seats.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” said the judge, “have you reached a decision?”

  “Yes, sir, we have,” answered the jury forewoman.

  The bailiff walked over to the forewoman, who handed the decision to the bailiff, who then handed it to the judge. The judge took the note and studied it, showing no emotion.

  The judge looked at Clyde and said, “Will the defendant please rise.” The judge handed the note back to the bailiff, who returned it to the jury forewoman.

  “Please read the verdict, Madam Forewoman,” the judge announced.

  The forewoman looked at Clyde and unfolded the paper. “As to the charge of federal bank robbery, we find the defendant, Clyde Barker, not guilty!”

  Clyde jumped to his feet and ran straight to his mother and child and hugged them tightly.

  His mother held her son’s face, looking at him tearfully. “I missed you, son,” she said.

  Clyde blinked back tears and said, “I missed you, too, Mama!”

  All the jurors watched the family reunion through their own tears as they hugged one another, knowing that they had served justice and that it was all worth it. Even T. Bernard Williams had a hard time keeping himself from growing emotional as he sat back in his chair and considered himself a winner because he’d gotten a bigger fish in the process—Martha Woods, who was behind bars because of contempt of court charges, compliments of the judge.

  After Clyde hugged his family and his lawyer, he looked around for his baby—Keyshia. Then he spotted her where she stood, teary-eyed and unable to move. He handed his son to his brother and walked slowly over to his woman. Keyshia burst into tears and ran into her man’s arms. Clyde wrapped his arms around her as she buried her head in his chest and she cried like she’d never done before. Even Ms. Hemmingway found it hard to control her emotions; she fought to hold back her tears but lost.

  “I missed you, baby. I missed you so much!” Keyshia said.

  “I missed you, too,” said Clyde as he wiped away her tears.

  “I’m going home now, and I’m never going to leave you again.”

  She looked up at him and said, “You promise?”

  He nodded and said, “I promise,” and kissed her hard.

  When they pulled apart, Ceasar handed his nephew back to Clyde, and the three of them, mother, father, and son, were finally together in freedom, for the first time.

  When they looked up, T. Bernard was standing across from them with a grim, dumbfounded look on his face. The entire family, as well as Ms. Hemmingway, waited for him to lash out at them for the deception that had been pulled on him.

  Finally he said, “Ms. Simmons, I want you to take a week off to spend with your family, and I’ll see you back at work first thing Monday morning.” He smiled widely and walked toward the doorway. Then he stopped and said, “Oh yeah.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slip. “This is the claim number for you to retrieve the money that the government confiscated. You must claim it within fourteen business days.” He smiled again and said, “I’ll put in the paperwork for it to be released when I get back to the office.”

  Keyshia, Clyde, and Clyde, Jr. walked over to Ms. Hemming-way.

  “Ms. Hemmingway,” Keyshia said humbly, “I . . . I don’t know how to thank you for—”

  Ms. Hemmingway cut her off. “You can thank me by passing the bar exam and doing legal service from time to time after you become a lawyer for people who have been unjustly convicted.”

  Keyshia smiled and said she would.

  Clyde approached her and thanked her also. “Ms. Hemming-way, I just want to thank you for believing in me. I don’t know how to ever repay you for giving me back my life and my family.”

  She nodded and said, “You just did, and that’s more than enough.” He hugged her, and she joked before she walked out of the courtroom, “You just stay away from those banks.”

  As they prepared to leave the courtroom, they began to look around for Clyde, Jr. He was in the well of the courtroom, playing a friendly game of cops and robbers with the bailiff.

  “Bang! Bang! Bang!” little Clyde said to the bailiff as he shot him with his fingers as though he had a gun.

  The bailiff
fell to his knees playfully as if he’d been shot and said, “Oh no! You got me! The cop always gets the bad guy in the end!”

  Little Clyde became furious with the officer and said at the top of his lungs, “I wasn’t playing no cop, I was playing the bad guy!” and shot him two more times for good measure.

  Keyshia and Clyde looked at each other, shook their heads, and said at the same time:

  “Body language!”

  Chapter 41

  _______________

  Shortly after the trial, Keyshia took emergency leave from school and her job to go down south to Charleston. Clyde and Clyde, Jr. went along with her when they received news that her daughter’s father had died from an apparently self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. He was found in his bedroom by Pastor Baker, the same pastor who had replaced him. Two weeks earlier, he had sent his daughter, Christina, to stay with her grandmother, Keyshia’s mother. The circumstances surrounding the suicide were still under investigation, because neighbors had reported that they saw a young woman enter the house the same day. It turned out that the woman in question was one of his victims from the past, and she had been extorting him for years, threatening to go to the police if she wasn’t given her money on a weekly basis. She told the police that on her last visit, he’d informed her that he would no longer be paying her, and as usual, she threatened to go to the police and left. She said she never had any intention of going to the police in the first place. After being questioned, she was asked if she had any remorse, and she told them she had none.

  Keyshia’s mother was given temporary custody of Christina until Keyshia petitioned the courts for her and her daughter’s DNA and shortly after that was granted full custodial rights to her daughter. Keyshia and Clyde attended the funeral in support of Christina, who took her father’s passing very hard, but in time she adapted to her newfound family setting with her mother, stepfather, and younger brother, Clyde. It was also about that time that Keyshia found it in her heart to forgive the man who had nearly ruined her life.