by Tra Verdejo
Five minutes later, the doors from the limo swung open, and both the girls and Joseph got out the limo and headed toward a room. While walking to the room, Joseph was holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and squeezing the ass of one of the girls with the other.
Lucky and Tango were still shocked, but it didn’t stop them from taking pictures, and continuing to do their jobs.
Four and a half hours later, they finally exited the rented room. All three of them appeared drunk as they stumbled out. Joseph’s driver had to help him get in the car.
As soon as the cardinal left with the limo, Lucky went up to their room, while Tango kept watch, looking for extra evidence like saliva, fingerprints, and sperm, anything to ensure Joseph couldn’t lie his way out of the situation.
Lucky was collecting towels and sheets. Then he looked in the garbage and saw two condoms, which still had sperm in them. He put the towels and sheets down and just left with the condoms. He couldn’t believe the cardinal was that stupid.
When the cardinal fell into their lap, the captain made a decision to blackmail Joseph instead of pressing charges and embarrassing him. Tuna and his team weren’t called elite for nothing. They started gathering evidence. That way they could demand a seven-figure payout. Within days, Tuna and Speedy were inside of Joseph’s mansion at the Hamptons. Speedy downloaded everything off his computer, and they left.
The next day was when they made the discovery of Joseph’s true identity. He wasn’t just into escort services; he ran a film company that produced child pornography. There were video clips of the cardinal performing sexual acts with little boys who appeared to be no more than nine and ten years old. Grown men were penetrating the rectums of little boys and recording everything. They went through about twenty-five videos and witnessed about thirty-five different kids being molested.
In some videos, the cardinal was seen with two boys at the same time. Captain Tuna and his crew were not about to protect a child molester, so they decided to expose the cardinal, instead of extorting him. They arrested him and pressed charges. A week after pressing charges against the cardinal, he was out on only $30,000 bail.
The city was shocked, but they didn’t rush to judge. In fact, a lot of the city papers had quotes with New Yorkers wanting more proof that he indeed molested younger boys. The public had only heard of these videos. They wanted to see them before crucifying the cardinal.
The cardinal pleaded not guilty, and a trial date was set. During the trial, he was offered a deal without any evidence presented to the jury. The cardinal was sentenced to twelve months of probation and was stripped of his duties as cardinal while he served his probation time.
After the plea deal was made public, Tuna and his boys were very upset because they could have made a few million blackmailing him.
Lucky turned in all the evidence against the cardinal, the pictures and all the videos. He wanted to make sure, when the cardinal died, his name was remembered as a child molester, not a hero.
After the new reports had surfaced, the FBI started to investigate some of Lucky’s claims, especially the kiddy porn business Joseph was running. The FBI figured if his claims were accurate, then many more high-profile individuals like him were involved.
Envelope #5: This package was the most dangerous one because now he was implicating the top cop in New York. Commissioner Brandon Fratt had started out as a trooper in New Jersey, where he learned to profile African-Americans. When he worked the New Jersey Turnpike, that’s all he pulled over, African-American drivers. Years later, he transferred to the NYPD when his uncle became a chief.
Brandon, at twenty-seven, was made one of the youngest captains in the force. Five years later, he was running an elite squad called “Operation DG,” which stood for drugs and guns. Their job was to lock up drug dealers and get the guns off the streets. Brandon handpicked his squad, and his first choice was then Officer William “Tuna” Youngstown.
Operation DG didn’t help reduce crime and murder, they helped increase the numbers. That’s how dirty this unit was. They were working with drug dealers like Pito, helping them move kilos of cocaine all around New York City. When Operation DG made arrests, they usually would lock up low-end criminals and then frame them with bigger crimes. This process kept the heat off their back from the mayor, and more money coming in from the criminals who paid for protection.
Since Lucky wasn’t around at that time, the only evidence he had was recorded conversations between Tuna and Brandon.
Tuna had always credited Brandon for showing him the ropes and how to make millions of untaxed money. Lucky was able to provide certain files to the media, showing Brandon’s signature on at least five different house deeds, two of them million-dollar condos. This was excluding the $1.2 million house he currently lived in with his wife and children. Commissioner Brandon also ran a non-profit organization called “The Future Is Now,” a non-profit venture to help kids with special needs.
In the three years the company has been in existence, he has raised over fifteen million dollars. Lucky provided documents of an overseas account with Brandon Fratt’s signatures on deposit slips. There were over ten deposits totaling fifteen millions dollars. The documents also showed a history of withdrawals, and for the past five years, he had spent over seven million dollars in houses, cars, and lucrative vacations. In 1994, he co-owned a construction company that did all the major projects in Brooklyn.
His company was given a hundred-million-dollar contract to renovate public schools in Brooklyn.
Out of more than sixty public schools, only about twenty were renovated, while another fifteen or so received new computers and books. In total, maybe forty million was used for the schools. The rest of the money was used to buy residents out of their home in order to start building these big department stores in the neighborhood and build big hotels in downtown Brooklyn.
According to Lucky, Brandon Fratt was the mastermind behind their unit. Captain Tuna ran everything through him first, and the commissioner was always the first one to get paid. The commissioner has already gone on record and denied all accusations.
Thesmokygun.com would like to thank everyone who read this article about the five envelopes. Our information comes from a reliable source down in City Hall. We are not responsible or liable for any suit, due to this third party information we received.
Chapter Thirteen
Lucky’s Daughter
Tuna arrived with both agents at the apartment, so he could introduce them to his partners. Loose and Speedy didn’t overreact like he thought they would. They understood that if Tuna was introducing them, they were legit and in it for the same reasons.
“Fellas, these two brothers are law enforcement, but they are feds. They are here to help us. The commissioner recommended them. They know where Lucky’s daughter lives.”
“For real?” Loose said. “So what are we waiting for. Let’s go find her.”
“I agree with Loose. Let’s go find her. If they are working with us, then let’s do it. Floyd and his boys already left. We need all the help we can get,” Speedy added.
They gathered around the living room and listened to the information the agents had to share. They knew, by finding Lucky’s daughter, this nightmare would go away. They would force Lucky to get in front of a camera and tell all of New York and America that he basically made up everything to frame his former employers because he was upset over his salary.
“Okay. So, Agent Kuntz, where is Lucky hiding his daughter?” Tuna asked.
“We have a P.O. box address up in Cape Cod, Massachusetts. This is the address that came up on some old hospital document. We ran Donald Gibson’s name through the hospital database for the entire United States of America.”
“But how do we know this is Lucky’s daughter? There could be hundreds of Donald Gibsons,” Speedy added.
“You are right, but there were only three Donald Gibsons in the force, and only one of them is African-American. Donald used his pol
ice medical insurance to pay for the birth of his daughter. The birth certificate also gives us the name of both his daughter and the mother. His daughter’s name is Tamika Freefall, and the mother’s name is Tasha Freefall. Their last known address is a P.O. box in Cape Cod.”
“Wow! That’s some slick shit. I would have never thought about searching birth certificates and shit. I guess we are heading up to Cape Cod, right, boss?” Loose Cannon asked.
“Yes, we are, but we have to be smart. Loose, you and one of the agents go check this address out and bring back the little bitch. I’m sure they’re still up there hiding.”
“We have to be extremely smart. Tasha must be an expert in hiding because, besides the P.O. box address, we can’t find anything else on them. It’s possible they changed their names and their looks as well,” Agent Kuntz added.
“You are right, but at least we know where to search. It shouldn’t be hard to find a nigger in Cape Cod,” Tuna added.
They all laughed.
“Boss, I think we should let Lucky know we’re heading to Cape Cod. This will put fear in his heart and make him go out there as well. We could kill two birds with one stone.”
They all thought it was a great idea.
About an hour later, after getting all the details worked out for their mission, Commissioner Brandon called Tuna’s cell to express his frustrations.
“We are running out of fuckin’ time. Find this nigger, and end it before we all go to jail for life. Now I have to get the feds off my ass. The DA is still gathering evidence, so we might have a slim chance of getting away clean from this mess. But you need to kill this son of a bitch. Got it?” He ended the call without letting him respond.
“Listen, Speedy, call our people down at the newspaper and make up a tip,” Tuna ordered.
“What kind of a tip?”
“Come up with a story about how you received a call from a hotel employee and that those three police officers accused of killing that Black kid just checked in. Tell them that they can’t name the hotel, but it’s located in Cape Cod. Tell them to make sure they mention that all three police officers checked in, even though only Loose is going out there.”
“That’s a smart idea. You know Lucky will be watching the news, once he hears about us being in Cape Cod, he will shit in his pants. He will know we know about his daughter’s whereabouts,” Speedy added.
When the six o’clock news came on, the first story were those five envelopes. They were still the hot topic, and everyone had an opinion about the whole ordeal.
“Good evening. My name is Barbara Water, Channel 5 News. Tonight, we have more details about those five envelopes. We all know they came from former police officer, Donald Gibson, who not long ago took the stand against his former partners for the murder of Perry Coleman. These allegations are not only shaking the streets, but they also have members of Congress scratching their heads. Every criminal from every corner is supporting Rell Davis and Juan “Pito” Medina. The city streets are feeling their pain about being wrongfully accused and imprisoned. Let’s go to Destine Diaz, live from 125th Street in Harlem.”
“Thank you, Barbara. I’m here in front of the State Office Building on 125th Street, speaking to the real New Yorkers, asking them how they feel about the recent allegations of corruption. I’m going to run you this clip I recorded an hour ago, this is what people on the streets of New York are saying.”
“Hi, my name is Tim, and I’ve lived in New York all my life. These allegations don’t surprise me because I see it every day. These crooked cops are not here to protect us, they protect the shield. If it wasn’t for that Black cop testifying, those other three officers would have gotten off. “
“Hello, my name is Sophia, and I think it’s sad when we have the highest-ranking officer and the most respected priest committing these criminal acts. I don’t know what else to say. I’m still waiting to hear from the mayor. He’s been silent throughout this ordeal. The longer he stays quiet, the more I’m going to wonder.” Sophia looked straight into the camera and said, “I voted for your—Beep!—you better say something.”
“Wat’s good? I hope dis goin’ to be on TV, yo. I think iz foul how peoples keep sayin’—What’s dat word again?—alle-what, oh yea, yea, allegation, when they got pictures and have you on cam cordas wid li’l kids. Dat’s sick, fam.”
“It’s scary. I’m already working on a plan to move down South. I was born and raised here in Harlem. I don’t want to leave, but if I can’t trust the police or my mayor, then it’s time to leave and start somewhere fresh.”
“My name is Moses Williams. I have three sons who I raised well, just like the Colemans raised Perry. Their son was murdered by police officers who were high off cocaine, and they have these officers on a paid vacation. It’s sad, and it sends the wrong message. But I tell you what, we are not surprised. This kind of thing has been going on for a long time. I’m just glad the spotlight is now on them. It’s going to take a miracle for them to restore the trust of the people. A lot of foul play was involved, and we still don’t know how deep it runs. That’s the scary part.”
“Those are some of the many comments I recorded. Meanwhile, a new trial date has not been set. The DA’s office is still deciding whether or not they should move the case to another county. Let’s not forget the five bombs that Lucky dropped, and boy, did we receive a wake-up call. This is Destine Diaz, reporting live from 125th Street in Harlem. Back to you, Barbara.”
“Did you hear that, honey?” Laura asked.
“I sure did. They’re still undecided about moving the case to another county. I’m sure these recent reports will help us more than hurt us.”
Lucky was watching the news as well, smiling. He was looking around the living room, missing Diamond’s presence. Usually, around this time, she would feed Lucky whatever he wanted.
He finally got off the sofa and was about to make a sandwich when he heard the breaking news theme song come on. He quickly sat back down to listen.
“This is Barbara Water again. We have breaking news coming out of Queens, New York. The family of Perry Coleman, who was killed by the NYPD, also received what’s believed to be a tape. A tape sent by, you guessed it, Lucky. On this tape, the Colemans are saying the three officers are heard talking about shooting, and implicating themselves. They won’t allow the media to hear the tape, but they will let the district attorney hear it. They are set to head downtown tomorrow morning for a meeting. This is what Laura Coleman said, the mother of Perry Coleman.”
“Good evening. A tape was brought to our attention by detective Donald ‘Lucky’ Gibson. Bless his heart for caring and making sure justice is served to these animals hiding behind a badge. On this tape, the officers are thanking each other for a cover-up. They call my son the N-word. At least now I can sleep at night knowing my son never pointed a gun at those officers. That’s all for now. I want to thank New York for their continued love and support.”
Lucky, at first, was upset that the Colemans went public with the evidence, but then he actually believed it was a perfect move. Due to all the recent allegations against the City, now was the perfect time to hit them where it hurt.
Lucky refocused his attention on the TV when he heard the news reporter say they were attempting to reach the three officers who were on trial, to see if they had any comments about all the allegations.
“We have tried to make several phone calls to their residences, but we’ve received no answer. However, through a reliable source, we hear the officers are in Cape Cod, fishing, but fishing for what?”
Lucky froze when he heard Barbara Water mention Cape Cod. The first thing that came to his mind was his daughter. “Fuck! They must know where Tamika lives.”
He grabbed a few pieces of clothing and packed up his Expedition. Then he drove to his storage on Gun Hill Road in the Bronx.
One of Lucky’s best friends, Divine, ran the storage facility, Put-It-Away, and Lucky was a silent partner. They were smart
enough to invest their money after the armored truck heist they’d pulled a few years back. He had hired Divine and his two muscles, Pee-Wee and Blood. They made over ten million off the heist, eight million in bonds and two in cash.
The storage facility was really a front. Divine ran a business called Street Secrets. He let high-profile criminals store their money, drugs, and weapons, whatever they wanted. With Lucky’s protection and intel, the storage was a successful business. Divine played the roll of banker, offering lockboxes with a 100 percent matching insurance policy. He ran a legit business, too. About 75 percent of the storage units belonged to regular customers, so they were able to keep the IRS and cops off them.
Divine and Lucky had one rule. They only did business with high rollers. There were times they were holding over a hundred million dollars in cash and a few tons of cocaine. They were making a lot of money, so Lucky had a state–of-the-art alarm installed, custom designed for the entire property. They went with technology, instead of armed guards, which would have made customers suspicious.
When Lucky arrived, Divine knew it was war.
“Yo, fam. Wat’s good? Everything a’ight? You look like you about to start a war. Let me get my shit, too.”
“Not on this one, Dee. I have to go alone. I think these pigs know where Tamika lives. It’s going to get ugly. I need you here, just in case.”
“Just in case? What you mean, dog?”
“Just in case something happens to me, you could continue running the business.”
“C’mon, you sound crazy. I’m ready to die for you, hood. You took me out the streets. I’m still criminal-minded all day, but you got me off the block. I owe you, family. I’m not scared to die, not if I’m riding with you.” Divine hugged his childhood friend.