The System Has Failed

by Ms. Michel Moore

  “Yeah, most police are some ho-ass homos anyhow!” his boy agreed. “Especially this Andy Griffith buster!”

  “Shut your damn mouth and do what you’re told!” the officer snarled back, overhearing the comments made about his manhood.

  “Man, fuck you!” the first guy responded. “You might have the rest of these people in here buffaloed but not me! I ain’t got no tickets, no warrants, and I got a pocket full, so you can fall the hell back on all that big-man bullshit you blowing out your mouth!”

  As the officer snatched both guys out of the valet line and had the cop checking IDs shut it down for fifteen minutes or so to inconvenience the rest of the people, everyone grew inpatient and much more irritated.

  “This is some straight-up bullshit!” Justice listened to the girl standing in front of him mumble underneath her breath as she shifted her weight to one side.

  “Hell motherfucking yeah!” he quietly concurred as his eyes roamed her entire well-dressed body. Forgetting for one second his main focus was to get out of the club and hopefully drive away in Moe Mack’s stolen BMW, Justice’s dick instinctively jumped. Damn, I’d tear this trick’s pussy up!

  “I wonder what the fuck this is about.” The mystery girl glanced over at Justice as if he really knew the answer to her million-dollar question. Then, as if she were the mayor, she shouted out another question. “Hey, how long we gonna be in this bitch?”

  “Damn, ma, slow ya roll!” Seeing what’d just happened to the loudmouth guys standing a few feet ahead of them, Justice’s dick grew limp, knowing that homegirl’s rowdy demeanor would draw attention to them both if she didn’t shut her fucking grill. Shit, here this whitey come! Fuck! Why the fine females always got them fly-ass smart mouths on ’em! Damn! Justice rubbed his hand on his chin, bracing as the white officer headed in their direction, undoubtedly having heard what Miss 2 Fine had just said.

  “Tell me why you people just can’t follow simple instructions.” The cop leaned over in the female’s face close enough that their noses almost touched, then he walked away without giving her the opportunity to reply.

  Obviously furious she’d been chin checked, the girl turned to Justice, still flapping her gums. “Did you hear that shit?”

  “Yeah, ma, I heard him, but don’t let that shit faze you!” Justice was just glad the cop had kept it moving as he kept a careful eye out of the club’s lighted glass front windows.

  “It’s just I had a pretty fucked-up day, and I’m just ready to get the fuck outta here!” She didn’t care who heard her.

  “I feel you.” Justice stopped as several familiar cars pulled up across the street from the club and parked. “Oh, hell naw!” he softly spoke before tossing his valet ticket into the nearby trashcan. “My day been pretty fucked up too!” Justice finished his thought as the girl seemed to be on her own mission. And it’s about to get even more fucked up as soon as I hit the street! he thought, watching Bama Bob get out of his car as some hoodrat ran over toward him. If I can just get outta here, maybe I can at least make it to the east side and over to Greedy’s and grab one of my other guns.

  Just as a confused Justice thought matters couldn’t get any worse, the boisterous female was back at it, calling another police officer over in their direction. Is this bitch nuts or something? She fine as a motherfucker and all, but fuck getting caught up on the humble behind her wild ass! Trying to keep an eye on Bama Bob as the line started to move again, Justice kinda eased over to the side as if he weren’t paying attention to the girl at all. After a brief exchange between the female and the cop, Justice realized she must’ve known the dude on a personal level since he called her out by her name, Bonita. Then when he told her to come with him and he’d escort her to the door, Justice knew the chick had the hookup.

  “All right then.” She smugly smirked, glancing over her shoulder at Justice while waving.

  “Damn, homie!” Justice blurted out while slightly pulling on the girl’s arm. “I know you ain’t just gonna leave me hanging like that. Hook ya boy up!”

  Turning around, seeing the obvious look of desperation in Justice’s face, the female he’d just met showed him some mercy. “Hey, wait a minute,” she said to the cop, shrugging her arm back from Justice’s touch. “Can you get my cousin out too? We met up down here, and I’m his ride,” she lied.

  After sizing up Bonita’s supposed relative, making sure he knew who was boss, the officer gave in to the girl’s wishes, signaling for them both to follow him toward the front.

  “Good looking out, Bonita!” Justice happily stressed every syllable of her government name, knowing he was about to be given a free pass out the door.

  “You straight, ummm . . .” She leered at him as they breezed past all the agitated people stuck in line.

  “Justice,” he whispered in her ear so the cop wouldn’t catch on that they weren’t really cousins.

  No sooner than Bonita had gotten her keys from the main officer checking IDs were the club’s steel double doors pushed open. Shit, I need them keys to Moe’s whip! With the sudden feeling of the still-warm summer breeze hitting his face, Justice’s heart raced, not knowing what was gonna jump off as his stolen Gucci Loafers touched the pavement. Damn, this is it!

  In the midst of all the chaotic commotion, the eyes of the child killer stretched, even the lazy one, trying to watch the magnitudes of police posted everywhere. He was also still monitoring Bama Bob’s every move. The tension he was feeling mounted. Look at these sack-chasing-ass hood rats posting up on my motherfucking car. I swear to God if all these ho-ass cops wasn’t out here, I’d smack the cow shit outta all they asses! Justice’s mind raced a mile a minute as if he’d really worked hard himself to pay for the BMW the stray females’ behinds were calling home.

  Dang, I hope this nigga don’t look the fuck over here now! His thoughts went in another direction as he saw Bama Bob and a gang of other dudes he once called his homeboys appear to posse up, undoubtedly plotting his demise.

  “Yo, I know this next shit is way beyond the call of duty, but can you give a nigga a ride?” Justice zoned in, noticing that the so-called meeting of the minds Bama Bob was holding seemed to be breaking up, and nine outta ten their focus would be back on Moe Mack’s BMW.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” The girl frowned up at him while keeping her sights on the same group of hoes who were on the Beemer. “Damn, where to?”

  As some of Bama Bob’s cronies waited for traffic to pass so they could cross the street, Justice had to think of any place to go other than where he was at now. “East side,” he stammered, answering her question. “Or better yet, how about the casino?”

  “All right, cool.” Surprisingly she reached over, hugging up on Justice’s arm as a burly plainclothes policeman instructed everyone standing on the front entrance of the club’s sidewalk to break it up and keep it moving. “See you later.” Justice watched Bonita smile at one of the females sitting on Moe Mack’s car as they quickly walked to a Hummer.

  Hearing the chirp of the truck alarm go off and seeing the lights flash, Justice hopped up in the passenger seat, still looking back at Moe Mack’s car he was just forced to abandon. This is some fucked-up bullshit! Why the damn police had to bring they asses up here raiding this son of a bitch tonight? If I could just get inside the trunk for five minutes, I’d be straight for life!

  “No offense, but I don’t know you.”

  Justice was sadly yanked out of his remorseful thoughts of taking such a huge loss as Bonita removed a gun from the glove compartment, placing it on her lap. “Damn, Bonita!” He once again stressed every letter in her name, tugging down on the crotch of his pants. “You straight gangster! You can get to know me!”

  With his eyes tracing every inch of her body, she eagerly offered him some advice. “Look, don’t make me change my mind. And quit calling me Bonita. To you, my name is just Bo!”

  “Yeah, all right, damn! Excuse the fuck outta me! You’s one of them high-class broads!” Justice
then stared over in the sideview mirror as she drove out of sight of Moe’s car and any chance he had of getting that dope or the guns.

  Complete silence took over the truck’s interior as each one of the occupants obviously had their own troubles on their minds. Five minutes later, Bo was pulling up almost in front of the MGM.

  “Be safe!” She offered encouragement, knowing that if his day was as half as fucked up as hers, he’d need it.

  Justice was still coming to terms with what had just happened to him on the humble, but he thought he’d give it one more shot before shutting the truck door. “You sure I can’t go with you?” He hoped she wouldn’t reject him, but deep down inside he knew she would. That was the story of his life.

  “Boy, bye!” She hysterically laughed in his face before skirting off, causing the truck’s door to shut on its own.

  I should’ve at least tried to rob the stuck-up bitch since she wasn’t giving up the pussy, or at least taken that gun.

  As Justice, hard dick in hand, stood on the side of the casino’s entrance, watching the Hummer drive out of sight and the taillights bend the corner, his emotions took over, and his anger intensified. What had started off as a typical day of standing on Linwood with Cree, putting in work on a bold package, had now turned out to be nothing more than a complete waste of time. With multiple criminal charges sure to be pressed against him, Justice by force had abandoned everything he’d plotted, kidnapped, robbed, murdered, and betrayed for. All three guns he was cherishing earlier were stashed along with the dope in Moe Mack’s trunk, which he couldn’t get near. The clothes he’d stolen from NayNay’s closet for Greedy, not to mention all of Moe’s high-priced gear, were stuffed in the back seat. Removing the vibrating cell phone from his front pocket, Justice saw he had one missed call from a random female, one from Cree’s pregnant girlfriend, and lastly another text message, this time from Bama Bob: Ho-ass nigga, we know you inside of the club. When you come out, you’s as good as dead!

  After twice reading over Bama Bob’s promising death threat, Justice smiled. He was going to get such a head start on getting out of dodge and lost in the city as they waited it out. This dumb country Bama all posted back at that club, and I’m long gone. He smiled, taking in his surroundings. But now what? Maybe I should go in this motherfucker and hit the craps table!

  With more vehicles than he could count entering the casino parking structure, Justice knew they all had money they’d be more than happy to part with if he had his pistol on his side. At least he could make some sort of a come-up and the evening wouldn’t be a total loss, seeing how that black American Dream he was living as he pulled up in valet a few short hours ago was gone. Just like that, Justice was back where he’d started: zero, bitter, broke, and again on the prowl.

  It was like one of his many foster mothers had repeatedly yelled out to him in the middle of her harsh beatings he suffered: “You were born to be a sorry loser!” He’d feel the sting of the long brown extension cord being slammed across his damp bare back. “No one wants you, little boy, not even God! If I didn’t get a check from the State of Michigan once a month, I wouldn’t even want your ugly, no-good ass!”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Allowing three or four elderly people to go inside the casino, then at least ten or eleven more, Justice could never find the right moment to snatch a purse or hit a man over the head with the huge rock he was holding in his hand while crouched down behind a candy-apple red Ford F-150. Eavesdropping on all the white, pasty-face people talk shit about the Negroes who lived in Detroit and the many police sirens that were roaring by, Justice couldn’t take it anymore.

  Dropping the black piece of stone to the ground, he reached in his pocket, taking out the small knot of money he had left from partying, counting it up. “$386 ain’t jack shit!” he reasoned as another set of headlights entered the structure. I know I should’ve just bought a few shots of Rémy! Damn, what was I thinking tricking with them hoes?

  Deciding it’d be in his best interest to just catch a cab to Greedy’s crib so he could come up with a game plan, Justice emerged from the parking garage. Checking the block for signs of anyone he knew, he jumped in one of the many waiting yellow taxis.

  “Yeah, dude, Devonshire and Mack.” He slammed the door as the driver disapprovingly looked back. “Then I’ll tell you where from there.”

  “Look, umm, sir, sorry. I’m only taking airport runs tonight.”

  “So damn what?”

  “Well, I can’t go that far east,” the driver of Indian descent explained. “I try to stay on this side of town for airport runs only.”

  Justice wasn’t in the mood to argue with the driver, whose head was wrapped in a purple turban. “Look, Ali Baba, just take me where the fuck I wanna go. Why y’all gotsta be so difficult? My money spends just like everybody else’s! If I were white—”

  “I’m not saying that. I just do—”

  “Look,” Justice stopped his protesting, holding up money to the bulletproof partition. “Are we gonna ride or what?”

  Seeing that his disrespectful passenger had cash in hand, and taking into consideration that the night was slow, the driver opted to follow instructions, carefully pulling away from the casino and into traffic. “Okay, you win. We go. But I need money first.”

  “Damn, fool, just keep driving,” Justice angrily advised. “You’ll get ya loot!”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “I thought so.” Justice lowered his head, going through all of Moe Mack’s texts. “Money talks and bullshit walks!”

  * * *

  “They done let a gang of motherfuckers out of that joint.” Bama Bob reached up, banging his hand on the green street sign. “And ain’t none of those dudes Justice’s ho ass. If that faggot would’ve come anywhere near Moe’s ride, we would’ve peeped him out.”

  “Yeah, you right,” one of the angry crew said. “Unless he somewhere in there hiding out.”

  “Come on, dude, use ya brain,” Bama Bob reasoned. “There ain’t no way the cops gonna be letting that retarded son of a bitch post up nowhere in there. I just hope he ain’t got no warrants and they arrest his ass on the humble before we get a hold of him! But just in case, I’m gonna get in touch with my girl Jazmine and see if she’s on duty tonight. If she is, I know she can get me the 411 on what her people know so far.”

  As the clock ticked by, Jazmine finally called Bama Bob back. She informed him not only was she on duty the deadliest night in Detroit history, but she was actually inside of the nightclub, helping to clear it out before moving to their squad’s next designated hot spot to raid.

  “Hey now.” Her voice rang out rapidly in the midst of all the loud commotion going on in the background. “I’m kinda busy right about now. It’s a madhouse in this bitch! But what do you need, and can it wait?”

  “Naw, it can’t wait! I need some info, baby girl, real quick, fast, and in a hurry,” he demanded in a rough tone. “I don’t know if you heard yet, but OG Moe Mack took a fall tonight. So this shit right here is top priority, ya heard!”

  “Hell naw. You lying? Are you sure? His car is parked right out front. I saw it when we stormed the club!” Full of questions, heading toward the front of the crowded building, Jazmine exhaled, peeping out the window. Seeing the Beemer definitely still parked in valet made her continue to question the tragic news she’d just heard. “Moe? Gone? You sure?” Jazmine sucked her teeth in denial. “Where was this at? What side of town? What happened? Damn!”

  “West side, Linwood and Dexter,” Bama Bob sadly responded as his soldiers stood tall, watching the club’s entrance for any signs of Justice. “Ol’ girl NayNay and them bad-ass kids of her sister’s got the business too! That’s why I’m calling. I need to know what ya might’ve heard about what ya people think went on inside that crib. Plus, I need you to check for the snake-ass motherfucker who did the deed! He the one who’s pushing Moe’s whip!”

  “That was Moe and his people?” Jazmine shook h
er head, almost gasping to breathe. “We heard that bullshit on the radio on the way here. That’s fucked up! I mean real fucked up!”

  “Yeah,” Bama Bob solemnly agreed. “Ho-ass corner boy!”

  “Y’all know who it was?” Jazmine trembled with a mixture of sorrow and anger. She tried to remain on her square after hearing her boy from way back when, Moe Mack, had left the world that most called hell. The young narcotics squad officer had been raised in the hood and had experienced death often in her line of work, even being behind the gun of several justifiable police shootings herself. Yet anytime her own left this place it was a sad day, to say the least. Momentarily paralyzed and stunned, Jazmine came to her senses, searching the room as her trigger finger itched with anticipation. “Fuck it, what y’all need me to do? Y’all think he in here? Now? What that fool look like?”

  With Bama Bob giving her Justice’s description, Jazmine got another officer to take her line duty, and she started her hunt. Quickly discovering that no one had an obvious lazy eye who had processed a valet ticket, her police skills kicked into full gear. Eagerly taking two steps at a time, Jazmine got up to the VIP section, finding it completely empty. Where could this nigga be? She kept her hand on her pistol just in case of any unexpected surprises. With each footstep the grief-stricken cop took, broken glass barely penetrated her thick-soled combat boots. Kicking bottles of beer and champagne out of her path, Jazmine’s eyes soon became glued on a few scattered snapshots on the floor near one tossed-over table. Shining her department-issued flashlight on the trampled photographs, one in particular stood out. This that one-eyed bastard right the fuck here! Ugly-ass, jealous motherfucker!

  As her adrenalin rose, she rushed back down the flight of stairs, eye fucking every nigga she came across who had on an outfit similar to the one Justice was wearing in the pictures. Still having no luck on her own, she tried calming down and thinking with her head and not her heart. Showing the picture to several of her fellow officers, Jazmine found out from one of them that he’d given the lazy-eyed Negro and some hot-in-the-ass female he claimed to have known a pass earlier to skip the line and leave.