Influence

by Carl Weber

  Bradley rambled on. “Nevertheless, I just want you to be prepared, because they’ve got television cameras, newspaper reporters, bloggers—hell, they even have a sketch artists drawing your picture as we speak.” Bradley pointed to the man in the first row, drawing on a pad. “A handsome guy like you, testifying in a high-profile case like this is going to make you Instagram famous by tomorrow. You’re going to be the new Kato Kaelin. You won’t be able to walk into a restaurant without TMZ sticking a microphone in your face.”

  I didn’t object, because I had no idea where he was going with this.

  Meat’s eyes lit up. “You think so?”

  “I know so.” Bradley did everything but pat him on the back. “You’re from Forty Projects in Jamaica, Queens, aren’t you?”

  “No doubt. South side in the house,” Meat announced proudly.

  “Lot of tough guys come from those projects, if I remember correctly.”

  “Hardest projects in New York City,” Meat bragged. “And I’m born and bred.”

  “Wow, with all your street cred and this newfound fame, you’re going to be a real celebrity back in Forty.” When Meat tried to prop himself up even more in his seat, Bradley smiled—not at him, but at me. “Yes, sir, you’re going to be the most famous snitch Forty Projects has ever seen.” Bradley walked over to stand near the juror’s box as he waited for Meat’s reaction.

  And react he did.

  “Huh? I’m no snitch!” Meat’s voice got loud as he realized what Bradley was insinuating.

  “Yes, you are,” Bradley replied. “And soon, everyone on the streets is going to know it.”

  “Objection, Your Honor! He’s badgering the witness.” I should have risen to my feet sooner, but to be honest, he’d caught me off guard with this dirty tactic. I was too late, because his words set Meat off.

  “Fuck that!” Meat bellowed. “I want it on the record! I’m not a fucking snitch. I’m only doing this ’cause they promised I could go home early. I ain’t got no beef with Krush and Tony. I’m only doing what they told me so I can go home. I’m not no snitch!”

  “Reeeeeeeally?” Bradley asked dramatically for the benefit of the jurors, who were suddenly looking more interested than they’d been all day. “Who told you to do that? Who told you to lie on the stand?”

  “Your Honor!” I shouted, feeling desperate.

  “I’ll allow it,” the judge replied.

  “Who did you talk to?” Bradley asked again.

  Meat turned directly to me. “That guy. The black ADA.”

  All I could do was sit there in frustration as Bradley dismantled my witness. Meat sat on the stand looking flustered and confused now. This was something I certainly hadn’t anticipated, because this wasn’t Meat’s first rodeo. He’d been jailed fifteen times, ten of which he’d gotten off early by testifying against other inmates. I figured he was a pro at holding strong under pressure, but Bradley had cracked him wide open.

  “What did ADA Brown say to you, Meat?”

  “He came to me and asked me what Krush said about the drugs. I ain’t go to them.”

  “And what did the DA’s office offer when they came to you, Mr. Barnes?”

  “They, uh . . .” Meat’s eyes went to me, and he hesitated. Now that he’d calmed down a little, he realized he was killing his chance for early release.

  Bradley sighed. “Your Honor, can you please instruct the witness to answer the question?”

  “Mr. Barnes, we’re waiting. Answer the question, sir,” the judge instructed.

  “Well, they told me and my lawyer that if I cooperated, I’d be home in two months with home monitoring,” Meat explained to the judge. “Man, my girl is pregnant, and they talking about giving me at least a year. When they offered two months, I didn’t feel like I had a choice.”

  “So, you lied so you could go home?” Bradley asked.

  “Nah, man. I ain’t lie. I just didn’t say that I knew Krush was talking bullshit to me in that cell. E’rybody knows that Krush is a punk. He ain’t pushin’ no heavy weight.”

  “No further questions for this witness, Your Honor.” Bradley walked back to the defense table, where Lamont patted him on the back as he took his seat.

  Meat was allowed to step down from the stand, and he walked over to the deputy who was waiting to escort him back to Rikers.

  “Are there any more witnesses at this time, Mr. Brown?” the judge asked.

  I looked down at the paperwork in front of me, and said, “Yes, Your Honor. We do have one more witness, but I’d like to ask for a brief recess.”

  The judge looked at his watch and said, “Well, it’s a little after three. Let’s hold off on that witness and resume in the morning. It’s already been a long day. Court is adjourned until nine a.m.”

  I was packing up my briefcase when David walked over to me and said, “Nice work.”

  “By who?” I asked him.

  “Aw, it wasn’t that bad. So what if he got a deal? He still told what Kirby said about the drugs. That’s all that matters,” David said. I wanted to believe him, but of course, it would all depend on which version of Meat’s story the jury chose to believe.

  David continued, “But, I did want to let you know that Kimberly and I took care of that thing.”

  I glanced up at him, feeling a little better. “And how’d it go?”

  “Went exactly the way we wanted.”

  “Great. That’s what I needed to hear. At least something’s going as planned today,” I told him.

  “Well, I’m gonna head over to the bar down the block and have a couple of drinks later. You wanna join me?” David offered. “You seem like you can use one.”

  “Naw, I’m good. I’m gonna head on home in a little while and prep for tomorrow.”

  “Suit yourself. You may change your mind, though,” he said.

  “Why?” I frowned.

  He pointed to the door of the courtroom and said, “Look who’s here.”

  I looked over and saw Grace standing in the back, talking to a couple of people. David swiftly made his exit as I picked up my briefcase. She was headed my way.

  “Grace.” I nodded to greet her when she approached. “You don’t have to say it. You were right.”

  “I didn’t want to be.” She gestured for me to follow as she headed for the exit.

  We walked out of the courtroom, and there was Bradley, where he was every time court ended: in front of the cameras, basking in the spotlight. A few members of the media headed in my direction when they saw me and Grace, but I put up my hand and said, “No comment,” as we passed by.

  “I’m surprised you’re not having your grandstanding end-of-the-day news conference like you usually do,” Grace commented after I closed the door of the private conference room we’d just entered.

  “Today wasn’t our greatest day in court with Meat’s cross, but we’re still winning this thing hands down. Let Bradley showboat for the cameras. It’ll make our victory even sweeter once his clients—and his son—are found guilty. He won’t have anything to gloat about, and he definitely won’t wanna be featured on the news.”

  Grace sat in one of the chairs and crossed her legs.

  “Today’s Bradley’s day, tomorrow and the rest of this trial will be mine.”

  “I’m sure Russell Jackal will be pleased,” she said.

  I stared at her, feeling cornered. I had no response.

  “Yes, James, I know about you and Russell.”

  “Grace,” I said quietly.

  “Don’t you Grace me, you back-stabbing son of a bitch! I knew all this grandstanding had to be about more than Jacqueline and Bradley. Why else would you take this case off the island?”

  “I told you it wasn’t personal,” I replied calmly, hoping to ease the tension between us.

  “Bullshit! Of course it’s personal. Just not in the way I thought.”

  “Grace, this is not going to affect you at all.”

  “Do I look stupid?” Grace wa
sn’t one to raise her voice for anyone, but she was damn near screaming now. “You fucked me, James, and by bringing Russel Jackal into it, you did it with no fucking lube. I just don’t know what I’m going to do about it,” she said menacingly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have half a mind to just walk out there and offer Bradley misdemeanors for the lot of them and be done with this,” she snapped.

  “You can’t do that,” I protested. Fuck, she was about to ruin everything.

  “I sure as hell can,” she countered. “But I can’t just let two kilos of heroin go entirely unpunished after spending all this money. I’d never get elected again.”

  “Thank you,” I said humbly, although she didn’t deserve it. “Grace, I’m really not trying to fuck you on this.”

  “Save it, okay, James?” she said icily. “And just so we understand each other, you better win this fucking case. ’Cause when you’re done, we are done. You’re finished in my office.”

  She stared at me, and I think she was hoping for a reaction. I didn’t want to overplay my hand, so I just stared back until we were both distracted by cell phone alerts. We glanced down at our phones and then raised our heads until our eyes met. Neither of us said a word, but it was obvious she’d just received the same tragic news I had.

  Krush

  55

  Four hours earlier

  I was up when Tony left for court, not that I had slept very well under the fear of duress and the dripping drain pipe my new bunk was under. Once again, I tried to apologize to him for everything that had happened yesterday with Meat, but he wasn’t having it.

  “Just stay the fuck away from me,” he’d said, balling a fist like he wanted to punch me. I think I would have taken the beat down if I thought it would mend things between us—but I knew it wouldn’t. I’d fucked up running my stupid mouth, and now I had to live with consequences.

  “Get up, nigga. What you got to eat?” I looked up and saw two dudes that had taken my stuff when Tony went to the hole. Life in Rikers was hard enough, but word was spreading fast that I no longer had Tony watching my back, so it had just gotten harder.

  “I got nothin’,” I said.

  Before I had a chance to move, they were all over me, punching and kicking me like I was an MMA practice dummy. I finally managed to get away, but then they had all my stuff, including my blanket and sneakers.

  “Not so tough without Doctor Strange, are you?” the bigger one said as he gave me one last kick.

  I went in the bathroom and washed the blood off my face. How much longer was I going to have to deal with this? I was getting to the point where I couldn’t take anymore.

  I left the bathroom and trudged over to the phone, where I waited my turn for almost an hour. Phone in hand, I dialed one of the few numbers I knew by heart, praying that there would be an answer on the other end.

  “State your name,” the prerecorded voice instructed me.

  “Kru—Um, Kirby.”

  “Please hold while we attempt to reach your party.”

  I waited a few seconds, knowing that the chance of her accepting the call was slim to none. I was about to hang up when I heard a voice, barely above a whisper.

  “Kirby?”

  “Ma?” I wanted to cry.

  “Baby, how are you?” She was talking so low that I had to press the phone to my ear to hear her. I’d checked the time to be sure I was calling during a time my father would be at work.

  “I’m okay, Ma. Is he there?” I asked.

  “Yes, I had to go to the doctor, and he went with me.”

  “How are you feeling? What did the doctor say?” I asked. My mother wasn’t in the best of health. She’d had breast cancer a few years back.

  “I’m fine, Kirby. They changed my medicine, but I’m on the mend.”

  Hearing her say that made me feel a little better. “That’s good. Where is he?”

  “He’s in the den; I’m in the kitchen,” she told me, then added, “I heard what happened in court yesterday. Kirby, you can’t be doing that type of thing. You must control your temper.”

  “No, Ma, but he was lying on me. You know how much I’ve changed, Ma. I’m not a bad person.” I leaned against the wall and stared down at the concrete floor, fighting back tears.

  “I know you aren’t, son, but I’ve always told you that you have to control your temper. People think the worst of you because you dress like the worst of us.” Now, that was a line right out of my father’s mouth. “Did you get the money I sent? They said it would take a few days before it was in your account. It’s not much, but I put a little something in there.”

  “Not yet, but whatever it is, I appreciate it.” I knew it wasn’t easy to do things like that with my father always hovering around.

  “You know I’m praying for you. I wish I could get over there to see you, but because I don’t drive, it’s hard. But I love you, and—”

  “Who the hell is that?” I heard my father’s voice, and my heart started racing.

  “It’s no one. I’ll call you back, Norma,” my mother said. I heard her trying to hang up the phone.

  “Hello? Hello? Who the hell is this?” my father yelled into the receiver. “And I know it ain’t no fucking Norma!”

  “It’s me, Dad.”

  “Didn’t I tell you not to accept any calls from him? We don’t have anything to say to you. Don’t be calling here begging for shit, because we ain’t—”

  “He didn’t call begging,” my mother cried out in the background.

  “Dad, I didn’t ask for anything. I just called to talk to Mom, that’s all,” I explained respectfully, hoping he would give her back the phone.

  “Talk to her about what? About how you’re showing your ass in that courtroom and embarrassing this family even more than you already have?” he snapped.

  “No, not that.” I felt a lump rising in my throat. “Dad, I’m so sorry. Please know that. I love you and Mom. That’s all I need for you to know.”

  “Stop calling my damn house. Your mother has enough going on with these doctors’ appointments, and she don’t need to be stressed. I won’t have you doing that to her. Do us both a favor and stop calling. I mean it!” He hung up the phone.

  I stood there, holding the receiver, feeling even worse than I had before making the call. I’d hoped that talking to my mother would make me feel better. Now, I realized that it was a call I should’ve never made. My life was fucked up, and the more I tried to fix it, the worse it became.

  “You finished with that phone call?” one of the inmates walked over and asked.

  “Man, you ain’t gotta ask him that. Take that phone from his ass if you need it,” another guy yelled. “That punk-ass nigga ain’t gonna do shit.”

  Laughter erupted, and the guy gave me a pitiful look. A few months ago, I was one of the most well-respected guys in there, and now I was a laughingstock. I put the phone back on the receiver and walked away.

  I walked over to my bunk and took the few toiletries I had left and headed to the shower area. I’d been holding onto something for Tony, and he’d forgotten to take it back. I had a better use for it than he did.

  In the bathroom, I turned on the shower as hot as it could get, then stripped down except for my shower shoes. I stepped in and stood there, wanting to wash away all the bullshit and pain of my life. I had nothing and no one. I had sunk to my lowest point and become an embarrassment to my family, my friends, and myself. The only thing I could count on were daily beatings from my fellow inmates. My life was hopeless, and I just wanted to disappear from everyone and everything.

  Langston

  56

  “Man, your pops did his thing in there today,” Tony shouted out of nowhere. I’d been half asleep, dreaming of Simone in the seat next to him on the corrections bus when his voice startled me.

  “Yeah, he was pretty good,” I replied with pride, looking out the window. We were just crossing the bridge from East Elmhurst to
Rikers.

  “Man, that’s putting it lightly. That dude Meat was trying to make me look like I was some sorta kingpin or something. But your old man tore him apart on that witness stand.” Tony laughed.

  “Did you see the way he was stuttering?” I said, joining his laughter. My father had made me proud today and reminded me why I wanted to be a lawyer and continue our family tradition.

  When our laughter died down, I turned to Tony and said, “That lying sack of shit was really out to hurt us.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a good thing they transferred his ass to PC, because you know what snitches get.” The anger I saw in him that morning when he entered the bus was starting to come out again. In the four years I’d known him, I’d never seen him like this. “But me and my people gonna see him, protective custody or not. That nigga’s gonna wear a buck fifty.”

  “What about Krush? You gonna give him a buck fifty too?” I cringed at the thought. Krush was already so bruised and cut up that I didn’t know if he could handle another wound that would need stitches.

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet.” Tony eased back in his seat, silently fuming. His demeanor scared me.

  “Tony, you know this wasn’t Krush’s fault, right? You know he would never do anything to hurt you. He just likes to be the big man on campus and run his mouth. He always has.”

  “This ain’t school, Lang.” He lifted his hands so I could see his cuffs. “This is fucking jail. You run your mouth, you best be able to back that shit up. And Krush is a punk.”

  “I know that, T, but can’t you give him a pass just this once? You said it yourself: when everyone thought you was losing it, Krush looked out for you.”