by Meta Smith
“I’m sorry, sir,” she told him, blocking his way. Sparks put his arm around Bentley’s shoulder and led him into the ER waiting area.
“What happened, man?” Bentley asked his brother.
“I don’t know,” Sparks answered, shaking his head. “There was the flash, then gunshots. I saw Dez on the ground, and then you came up.”
“Whoever did this is going to pay!” Bentley swore through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, but who did it? We ain’t got beef with nobody. We don’t owe anybody any money. We ain’t got no gang ties, no mob ties, no drug ties. We busted our asses building this label. I can’t believe that someone was just hating. Not enough to try and kill us,” Sparks exclaimed. “I mean, who were they aiming at? Was it me? Was it you? Was it Dez?”
“Shit! Was it someone else altogether? Maybe we were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Bentley said.
“I don’t know...the way it all went down, it was organized. It was like a professional hit, man.”
The police interviewed Sparks and Bentley. They repeated the same facts: They had no known enemies. They weren’t involved in anything illegal or shady and couldn’t think of any reason other than jealousy that someone would want to hurt any of them. Sparks told the police about the case with Dirty Dan, as well as Ysenia’s reporting to the tabloids, and the stalking incident with a knife-wielding Leilani. The police gave the standard promise to look into every avenue and follow up on all leads, but both Sparks and Bentley were skeptical that the case would be made a priority. They’d seen what happened in cases like the Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac Shakur murders. The authorities would probably chalk things up to senseless rap violence. The detectives that interviewed them gave them their business cards and assured them that they would contact them if any information became available. Likewise, they asked the brothers to call if they remembered or heard anything.
“If we were white, they’d already have a lineup,” Bentley raged. “Maybe, but talking about race isn’t going to help us right now,”
Sparks told his brother. He knew that Bentley was upset and afraid for Dez. “I need to call Ginger, though. She was supposed to get to L.A. a couple of hours ago with her fiancé.”
“I’m going to stay here and wait to hear about my baby,” Bentley replied.
GINGER HAD ALREADY HEARD THE NEWS WHEN SPARKS
reached her by cell phone.
“We just checked in a little while ago. I was getting ready to get dressed when we saw it all on television. Is Dez okay?” Ginger asked, hopeful.
“It doesn’t look good,” Sparks admitted. “Get down here quick.” “Okay I’m on my way. Cedars-Sinai, right?”
“Yeah.”
“But, Sparks, who did this?” Ginger wanted to know.
“We don’t know. We already talked to the police and told them everything we could think of. We told them about Dirty Dan and Leilani, but they gave us the standard ‘don’t call us, we’ll call you’ routine,” he
informed her.
“I’ll be there in a flash. I know Dan, and I don’t think he has the capacity to kill. And although Leilani is definitely crazy, I don’t know if she’s that crazy. But I may have some information that will help,” Ginger told him, then hung up the phone.
In an instant Ginger and her fiancé were at the hospital.
“This is my fiancé, Dr. Jacques Pierre,” Ginger said to Sparks and Bentley.
“Nice to meet you,” Jacques said, and shook their hands. “I’m going to talk to the doctor and see if I can get a better handle on the situation,” he informed them before kissing Ginger on the cheek and disappearing down the corridor.
“How is she?” Ginger asked Sparks as she greeted him and Bentley with comforting hugs and kisses.
“She’s still in surgery. She lost a lot of blood. And she was, she was... oh my God!” Bentley broke down.
“She was eight weeks pregnant. She lost the baby,” Sparks finished. “The doctor just came and told us.”
Ginger burst into tears. Why, God? she prayed. Please help me to understand this and trust that You’ll make it all better.
“On the phone you said you might know something.” Sparks got down to business, and Ginger quickly composed herself.
“Oh my God yes! There was this guy K.G. Dez used to date him before she met Bentley. When she broke things off with him, he didn’t take it so well. She thought he got the picture, but he did have her nervous for a while. He was in some serious denial,” Ginger informed them.
“It’s a start,” Sparks said.
“My baby, my baby,” Bentley said over and over softly as he sat in a hard plastic chair with his head buried in his hands.
“Get me Dez’s two-way. He paged her a bunch of times. We can give that information to the police,” Ginger told Sparks.
Sparks handed her the beaded Judith Leiber bag that Dez had been carrying earlier that night. Then they called the police. The detective seemed a little more optimistic about the lead than he had before. He promised them he’d get right on it.
There had been complications from Dez’s surgery. The bullet had gone through her abdomen and lodged against a nerve near her spinal column. Removal had been difficult and highly risky Dez had lost lots of blood due to hemorrhaging, and having had a transfusion, she was now recovering from the long surgery in intensive care. She was still unconscious, and
both her heart rate and blood pressure were unstable.
Cards, flowers, and stuffed animals began pouring into the hospital from hip-hop fans nationwide. MTV and BET had both interrupted their regular programming with updates and a marathon of Titanium Records videos, along with all the videos Dez had ever appeared in. People e-mailed and called the networks to offer their best wishes for her recovery. Naturally, Ysenia took the shooting as an opportunity to talk to the sleazy tabloids and so-called entertainment news programs to milk the tragedy for all she could.
Two days after the shooting, the police contacted Sparks via his cell phone. Both Ginger and Bentley had not left the hospital since the shooting, although Dez was in a coma and was non-responsive to stimuli.
“Mr. Baker? This is Detective Atkins of the LAPD.”
“Detective, have you found out anything about this K.G. character?” Sparks crossed his fingers, and Ginger grabbed his hand and began to pray.
“We followed up on the lead. His name is Kevin Gilliam. He’s a high- level drug dealer who is currently being held in a pretrial detention center in Detroit facing a mandatory minimum of twenty-five years to life in a federal penitentiary. He’s charged with murder, trafficking, extortion; you name it, he was involved. But he wasn’t involved in Dez’s shooting. He’s been locked up for about three weeks now. And it’s highly unlikely that he could have orchestrated this whole thing from behind bars. He’s facing his own trial right now. Dez probably isn’t his main focus, no matter how smitten he once was. But we’re gonna keep digging. It’s a long shot, but if he’s involved, we’re gonna find out.
“As for Leilani Hong Thomas, the young lady that threatened her with a knife, she was working on a soundstage in Miami that night. Several people have vouched for her whereabouts. Meanwhile, there’s a lab checking out the footage of the pre-awards show. There has to be something on one of the tapes. Most of the journalists are cooperating with us.”
“Most of them?” Sparks questioned.
“Well, some of them are taking their time handing over their footage. They want to be the first to discover anything. They want the scoop,” the detective explained. “But don’t worry. We’re going to find something. Whoever did this wasn’t thinking too much. There were a million cameras out there. There’s bound to be something. Just try and be patient. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.” Sparks disconnected the call.
“I don’t understand,” he told Ginger. “K.G.’s been locked up for three
weeks. He couldn’t have been involved. He’s about to go on trial facing a major bid. H
e’s probably focusing on how to save his own ass, not causing more trouble for himself right now.”
“Think, Sparks!” Ginger begged. “I mean, is there anyone? Who would want to see you dead?”
“I keep telling you, we don’t have beef. Me and B used to be petty thieves when we were younger, boosters. But we never fucked around with the big boys. I started DJ’ing before we could get too caught up in the streets. We’ve been all about our music ever since. That’s on everything.” “This is so crazy,” Ginger said. “K.G. is out. Ysenia wouldn’t do it because Dez is her meal ticket. Dan isn’t a killer. I know him. He was probably mad as hell that he had to pay her all that money from the settlement of the tape, but killing Dez wouldn’t have changed anything. He already paid her, it’s not like he can get his money back. He’s probably just glad that he’s not in jail. But I got to ask you, Sparks. Does Leilani
know what went down between you and my sister?” Sparks looked surprised.
“Yeah, Dez told me,” Ginger explained. “But don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. I’m just asking because Leilani is nuts. There was that whole incident with the knife. And now that I’m thinking about it, it seems to make sense.”
“Leilani was just being dramatic,” Sparks replied.
“Stop defending her. She held us at knifepoint. Do the police know that?”
“Yes, I told them. If it was her, the police would know something. Besides, if Leilani is behind this, it’s not because of what happened with me and Dez. I never said anything, and I don’t plan to,” Sparks swore.
“Well, I don’t know. But what’s more important anyway is that Dez make it through this. She’s got to pull through. She can’t die!” Ginger began to cry.
“Come on.” Sparks hugged her. “Let’s go talk to Bentley and see if anything has improved.”
BENTLEY SAT AT DEZ’S BESIDE, HOLDING HER HAND. HE HAD A
blank expression on his face.
“Is she getting any better?” Ginger asked.
“No. Nothing has changed,” Bentley replied somberly.
“Well, let’s all pray. That’s all that’s left to do,” Ginger suggested, and
they did just that.
CHAPTER 25
Four days later
J
ONATHAN BAKER?” IT WAS DETECTIVE ATKINS ON THE other end of the phone. “I need you to come into the police station
immediately.”
“Has there been a crack in the case?” he asked eagerly.
“I won’t go into it over the phone. Just get here,” he instructed before ending the call.
Sparks and Ginger headed to the police headquarters in Inglewood. Bentley refused to leave Dez’s side, but promised to alert them of any change in her condition. He made them swear to page him as soon as they knew something.
“Have you found the shooter?” Ginger asked immediately as Detective Atkins joined them.
“Yes and no,” he replied.
“Please, just tell us what’s going on,” Sparks interrupted.
“Well, we’ve found the perpetrator on film.” Detective Atkins popped in a videotape. “This footage came from Access Entertainment Weekly. Their cameras were directed at Dez, but from behind her. Take a look into the upper left-hand corner of the TV screen as I play this. Now, I’m warning you, this is graphic. You’re going to see Dez go down. But you’re also going to see who did it,” the detective explained. He played the tape in slow motion. Ginger began to cry as she watched the footage, but tried to keep
her eyes focused on where the shots were being fired from. The detective stopped the tape.
“See, right there.” He pointed a ballpoint pen at a shadowy man in the upper left-hand corner of the screen. He was holding a giant strobe flash with one hand and a nine-millimeter revolver in the other. Simultaneously, the man illuminated the extra-bright flash and squeezed the trigger on the gun.
“Who is it?” Ginger asked, averting her eyes.
“We don’t know yet. We were hoping that maybe you would recognize him,” Detective Atkins stated.
“I can barely see him. From what I can see, he looks Chinese or something,” Ginger replied. She gave Sparks a meaningful look. Sparks raised an eyebrow.
Chinese! Nah, it couldn’t be, Sparks thought. Could Leilani somehow be behind all of this? Fuck her alibi! I owe it to Dez to find out. But I don’t trust the LAPD. We still don’t know who killed Tupac or Biggie! They probably don’t even care about who did this or why. They’re probably only hoping to solve this crime so they can be on Court TV and write a book or get a promotion. But I think I have awayto get to the bottom of this.
“His picture is being blown up and enhanced and is going out on every station as we speak. Someone somewhere knows who this guy is, and they’re going to tell us,” Atkins said with confidence.
“Someone knows who did this, all right, and whoever did will get caught,” Sparks said. “Have the media alert the public that I’m offering a reward of a million dollars to anyone who can lead us to the identity of this man, his motives, and his connections. The pieces have all got to fit together, but if they do, the million is theirs.”
“You do realize that our department is going to get flooded with calls from all kinds of people who just want the reward money, don’t you?” Atkins asked.
“What’s your point?” Sparks asked.
“My point is that we need real leads. I’m not sending my men on some wild-goose chase.”
“Well, do what you gotta do.”
I know I will, Detective, Sparks thought. If his instincts were right and Leilani was connected to Dez’s shooting, he was going to catch her himself and he wasn’t going to have to come off of a dime.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ginger asked Sparks once they had left the police station.
“Leilani?” Sparks replied.
“What are the odds? The crazy girl shows up at the house, holds us at
knifepoint, and then Dez is shot by an Asian man? Leilani’s the only Asian that’s got beef with any of you,” Ginger said.
“I just want to know why the police haven’t made the connection. I told them about Leilani...Maybe if I would have pressed charges, Dez wouldn’t–”
Ginger cut him off. “There’s no sense in wondering what might have been. And beating yourself up isn’t going to help us catch Leilani.” Ginger patted Sparks on the shoulder.
“Ginger, I love Dez.” “I know. We all do.”
“No. I love her. You know this. I would have gladly taken the bullet for
her if I could have.” Sparks got choked up.
“Come on, Sparks. Let’s go to the hospital and check on Dez. We need to let Bentley know what’s going on,” Ginger suggested, and they headed back to Cedars-Sinai.
BREAKING NEWS REGARDING THE AWARDS SHOW SHOOTING OF
rapper Dez and journalist Sheila Rubin: A suspect has been caught on tape. The perpetrator is described as an Asian man, five seven to five ten, slight to medium build. What you’re looking at now are digitally enhanced images of this man. Titanium Records has offered a one-million-dollar reward to any person with information leading to the arrest and conviction of the shooter.
Leilani sat transfixed in front of the television smoking an L.
“Good luck, Sparky boy!” she sneered at the screen. “It serves the bitch right, you know.” Leilani sucked her teeth and grinned mercilessly. “She just had to go and ruin everything, didn’t she? She had to be greedy. It wasn’t enough for her to be a model. She had to go and be a rapper too. Dez always had to have all of the attention. And she couldn’t just stick with Bentley. Oh no! She had to go and try and sink her hooks into my man. I know she’s the reason behind our breakup. She poisoned his mind against me.” Leilani had taken to talking out loud to herself more and more. If she could distinguish the difference between an internal
monologue and an external one, she was far beyond caring.
“Bitch, bitch, she
’s such a bitch. She left me hanging at the party. She put her hands on me. She starred in that awful Dirty Dan tape. And still, everyone loves Dez. Well, I’ve fixed that. Let’s see how much the world loves a ghost. How long will they mourn you, Dez?” Leilani inhaled deeply, coughed a bit, and then blew a thick haze of smoke into the atmosphere.
“I told her she didn’t want to see me! I was her friend even when everyone talked about her like she had a tail. And how did she repay me? With betrayal. And everyone knows what the punishment for betrayal is. It’s death. Benedict Arnold, Brutus, and all of Caesar’s homeys, they paid for their treason with their lives. It’s the law of the streets, always has been, always will be. Dez had to die.” Leilani laughed and laughed until her sides hurt.