Once again, he was being taken back to the booking room for intake. Just like all of the times the champ had been in this area before, the place was loud and crowded with the scandalous and wasted-looking people of the city. Many of them were guilty, and others not so much, but they all were in for a fight for their freedom—all except for Noeekwol Bondz. He already had his time, and it started the moment he signed himself in at the reception desk.
Since he was a self-surrender, he was fast-tracked through the intake process as soon as the cuffs came off. Noeekwol still went through the whole usual process of being fingerprinted, tagged, and having his photo taken, only without the long wait.
Once he was done in the booking room, he was taken to the back where he was stripped out of his civilian clothing and dressed in the trusty county orange. Then he was taken up to pod 5-D to await transfer to the Department of Corrections in Waupun, Wisconsin.
On the funky housing unit, Noeekwol got lucky and was placed in a cell by himself. Because he had been brought in late, he missed dinner, so the deputy gave him a cold bag lunch to hold him over until morning. The bagged meal consisted of two mystery meat and butter sandwiches, a small bag of baby carrots, an apple, and a milk. It was a good thing that he ate before he arrived. His aunt had cooked him some buttermilk fried chicken, mixed greens, red beans, and hot water cornbread.
After making the bed, he dropped in it with the bag of carrots and munched on them while lying on the hard, narrow bunk bed. He stared up at the swimsuit photo cutouts of the sexy Kardashian sisters and a few other unknown beautiful models that the man in the cell before him must have plastered onto the bottom of the top bunk to brighten his view.
“Bondz?” the third-shift deputy called out over the intercom.
“Yeah!”
“You’re on my transfer list for the morning.”
“Alright. Do you know what time?” he asked, now sitting on the edge of the bunk.
“Yeah, I know, but I can’t tell you that. You might have one of your crazy fans come and try to break you out if I did that!”
“Ha, ha. Funny!”
“Have a good night,” she sang, still laughing at her comment.
Noeekwol got up, took a piss, washed his hands, and then splashed water on his face. He looked in the polished metal that served as a mirror.
“Stay focused. You’re all you got, so go in hard and heavy. They can’t break you, and they can’t beat you!” he told himself, repeating the words of his trainer.
TWENTY - ONE
Detective Allison was sitting behind her desk at work searching for information on the second female’s card when she received a call about another multiple homicide. Since she had not been assigned a new partner yet, it was all on her to go investigate it. She quickly left the station and drove to the scene of a witness-reported shooting inside a house on 30th and Michigan Avenue.
When she arrived on the scene, there was a fleet of MPD black-and-white squad cars along with a few other city emergency vehicles parked every which way. All of them were crowded in front of the house. Tabitha wedged her car in where she could and then got out with the last of her Starbucks iced coffee. She downed it and then took a few slow, deep, calming breaths before making her way over to the house.
The detective dropped her empty plastic cup into the green trash bin at the curb and then walked on up the short flight of stairs onto the porch. Stretched out there she found a light-complected male with most of his lower jaw gone from an obvious close-range gunshot to the face.
“Excuse me?” Tabitha exclaimed, flashing her gold shield. “What all do we got on our hands here?” she quizzed one of the two male uniformed officers that were having an unrelated conversation standing beside the body.
“It’s a mess, Detective, is all I can tell you,” the big guy answered after facing her. “Besides, that poor fella there, there’s a few more inside.”
He pointed to the wide-open front entrance to the place.
“I really don’t know much else. We’ve been ordered to stand out here and keep the nosey reporters away.”
“I’m good with that!” the second officer said before he flashed his light on a guy peeking off of the neighboring porch, who instantly withdrew back inside his home.
“I know how you guys feel. No matter how many times you see this kinda thing, it never gets easier to see. I don’t want to be here right now myself. I had only forty-five more minutes to go before I could punch the clock when this call came in. But it’s the job that I signed up for,” Tabitha said as she inched over to the body lying on the floor of the dirty porch. “Hey, can one of you get a statement from that guy next door? He looked like he may have had something to say,” she asked without looking back their way.
She was kneeling down attentively viewing the body of the murdered thug when another officer walked over to her.
“Excuse me, are you Detective Allison?” a female officer inquired.
“Yes, why?” Tabitha retorted, looking up from the corpse.
“They need to see you inside,” the officer informed her while trying her best not to look at the bloody mess of a face.
“What do they have in there that cannot wait until I’m done out here?” Tabitha asked, shaking her head at the rookie who was getting paler by the second from the sight in front of her. “Please don’t puke all over my crime scene. If you gotta, go over to the curb.”
“I’m good,” she said as she stood up tall. “It’s another male vic. I found him; but unlike that guy, this one’s throat’s been slashed.”
“Alright, then if you’re good now, lead the way,” Tabitha said as she clicked off her flashlight and followed the officer inside.
The detective immediately clicked back on the light when she stepped inside the gloomy dilapidated interior. It smelled like gunpowder and something sour and very strange. Tabitha was taken to a body slumped over awkwardly in a chair. It was almost decapitated beside a small dirty table.
“Did you find any weapons on him?” she asked while leaning in closer and skimming the beam of her flashlight up and down the victim’s arms and hands.
“Weapons?”
“Yes, weapons. The guy on the porch still had his finger on the trigger; and from the looks of this place, it’s a drug house. So I’m sure this guy also had a gun on him.”
“I didn’t touch the body. But I did look all around it, and I did not see anything,” the female officer replied.
“Get the team up in here, and tell them to photograph every inch of this room before anything is moved. I’m going to go check out the bodies upstairs if you need me,” Tabitha said, heading over to the staircase.
The first thing she observed was the broken banister above and then the bullet-ridden sofa beneath it. She guessed someone had either fallen or jumped down from the second floor.
“Hey, rookie!” she called out. “Tell the team to get shots of all of this area, too, please.”
She then continued up the flight of stairs, where she came upon the third body she had seen in the house so far. From what she could see, there was no need for the body shots she saw; and if they came first, then there was no reason for the face shot, unless this murder was personal. She guessed the man laid out in front of her was a target victim.
“Hey, Detective Allison!” the uniformed officer from the porch called to her standing in the middle of the staircase.
“Yeah?” she responded, walking back to the top of it.
“I just got word over the radio that they caught a suspect from here. He’s on his way to the hospital. Get this, the guy was T-boned by a speeding fire truck,” he explained excitedly.
“That’s good to know. Find out where he’s being taken. I will come find you when I’m done up here,” she told him before she went back to investigate.
She hoped the two were really connected so she could get this case closed fast and get back to the Bondz murders. She needed to give that family some closure, especially afte
r what Sadd had done to them.
TWENTY - TWO
It was roughly 5:45 a.m. when a squad of four transport deputies appeared on 5-D to round up Noeekwol along with sixteen others that were scheduled for transfer to Dodge Correctional Institution that morning. Once Noeekwol was down in court staging for transfer, he was put in handcuffs, blackboxed, and shackled on a chain of five other men. When the deputies had all of their prisoners secured, they marched them down the corridor to a big gray-and-orange prison bus that was idling in the jail’s sally port.
Noeekwol estimated about twenty men were already seated on the bus. He found an open seat by the window and sat in it. It did not go unnoticed by him that a few of the men recognized who he was and right away started their whispering about whatever they heard from the news about his case. He did his best to ignore them and not to make eye contact with any of his convicted fans. He was there to do his time, not to make friends, so Noeekwol just stared out of the barred window of the bus.
“Are you really Noeekwol Bondz, the MMA fighter?” the young black kid asked in the seat beside him.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he responded, not wanting to be rude.
“Dawg, man! I ain’t never met nobody famous before!” he said excitedly. “My name’s Veteran, but everybody calls me Vet for short. What do they call you?”
“My name is good enough,” he responded, still looking out the window at the city as it went from urban to small-town country. “Is that your real name?”
“Nawl, it’s my rap name, because I spit fire like the real veterans in the game. I’m known to put that heat to ya feet and leave you hobblin’ in pain,” Vet answered, showing off his rap skill.
“Alright, now I hear you, but ain’t no guns where we’re going. So you better know how to use your hands,” Noeekwol said, facing the youngster.
“I’m good with these boys, too, but I ain’t no Noeekwol Bondz. I used to do a little wrestling when I was in high school.”
“Yeah, what happened? Why you stop?”
“I caught a petty weed case and got kicked out of school.”
“Is that what you’re going up for now?”
“Nawl, I got revoked on my second dirty UA for smoking K-2.”
“I see. You didn’t get enough of prison the first time, or is it so cool up north that you wanted to come back?”
“Nawl, man, this is my first time going up north. I did time in the HOC for my first bid.”
“Vet, man, I’m gonna just sit back and chill for a minute,” he told him before he turned back toward the window.
“Alright, man! I’ll let you know when we get close, if you’re asleep. I’m too fuckin’ nervous to go to sleep, but I got you though.”
Noeekwol was kind of nervous himself, but he did not let it be known to Vet. Instead, he closed his eyes and reminisced about his last cage fight. He had already proven to everyone that he was ready for the big show in the great octagon of the UFC. He suspected the last match he fought was rigged for him to lose, because they wanted one of the guys out of the Hardball Camp to win it all. That is why he guessed they put him up against the Viking, who had been allowed to drop from heavyweight to fight him in the light heavyweight class. From the Viking’s size, Noeekwol knew they were lying about his weight. The man was 230 to 240 pounds easy, but Noeekwol didn’t complain. He had never thought his success would come easy. That is why he trained with the big boys.
As soon as he heard the bell ring, Noeekwol dropped his chin the way his dad used to tell him to do when he first started fighting as a kid. With his chin down, he rushed at the Viking to throw him off, while at the same time swinging his heavy hands at full power toward the Viking’s head. The two of them had stood in the center of the ring trading blows to the face and head as if they were immune to pain. By the time the bell ended the round, they were both bloody messes. Noeekwol could still remember how glad he was to hear it ring. He went back to his corner wondering if his father was watching him on TV.
When the second round started, he ditched all emotion and went back into his fight mode. This time, Noeekwol did not rush at the Viking; instead, he allowed him to come rush at him. He wanted to make him think he had him intimidated, so the Viking would get overconfident and make a mistake.
Noeekwol went to work chopping the big man down with vicious leg kicks, but he just kept coming. At the time, Noeekwol thought it would be a good idea to change up and go high with his kicks instead of low. But now that he thought back on it, he felt the decision to throw the kick at the Viking’s head was just him panicking. He did not know how he was going to be able to put his crazy opponent in such a perfect armbar after he lost his footing and slammed to the floor. But he was glad it popped into his mind when it did, because it gave him the win in the ill-matched fight.
“Aye, champ, wake up. We’re pulling up!” Vet informed him, with a slight nudge to his elbow.
“I’m up,” he answered, surprised that he had actually dozed off on the bus.
When he opened his eyes, he saw a gloomy monstrous prison sitting firmly behind two double-high electric fences. Both fences were also layered with a multitude of sadistic-looking razor wire at the bottom and top and between the fences.
“Chin down, eyes up!” Noeekwol muttered to himself as the bus pulled to a stop outside the prison gatehouse.
“Everybody get off in a single-file line. Head through those doors where you can see my officers standing. Once you’re all inside, you will be given further instructions. Now, is there anybody that has an issue understanding what I just said?” asked the crispy white-shirted captain who boarded the bus to make his announcement.
No one said a word, so everybody was herded off the bus just the way the captain instructed them. Inside the prison, the cuffs and shackles were removed, and the men were broken up into small groups. They were then placed in holding cells until they were called to go through their property. Since Noeekwol did not have anything, he was sent into the shower room where he was put into a stall and strip-searched.
“Take everything off and hand it to me piece by piece,” the officer ordered. When Noeekwol was naked, the officer continued. “Open your mouth. Any false teeth or anything I need to know about?” he inquired while looking inside his mouth with a flashlight.
“No, sir.”
“Okay, arms up! Let me see your hands.” Noeekwol did as he was told. “Turn around, bend over, and spread your cheeks!”
After the demeaning search, Noeekwol was given a strong-scented body wash, and he was told to spread it all over his body from head to toe before the water in the shower stall was turned on. He was next given his state-issued green clothing and a pair of hard brown leather boots to wear. Noeekwol dressed and was marched out and put in line with Vet and the others who were all waiting to have their photos taken and given a prison number and ID card.
“When you hear your name, answer by reciting your number. You must remember that number like you know your name, if you would like to receive any of the services during your stay here at DCI. Again, when you hear your name, answer with your number and line up next to the officer that called you.”
“Bondz! Noeekwol Bondz?”
“Here, 00222201!” he answered as he walked over and stood beside the correctional officer.
Noeekwol was glad when he heard his CO call Vet’s name. He did not come to make friends, but it felt good to have someone around that he could talk to.
“Hey, champ, they’re putting us in the same cell block. I think this line is for the Dungeon in the old building,” Vet told him, skipping the men in the line to be next to him.
“Man, go on with that. They don’t got a damn dungeon.” Noeekwol chuckled.
“Nawl, I’m for real. That’s what they call it because the unit is in the basement. My big homie told me about it before I left the HOC. They put us three to a cell down there, and we can’t go nowhere for the two or three days.”
“What happens then?”
/> “I don’t know, I guess we get put in GP with the rest of the people here. No homo, champ, but I’m trying to get celled up with you, only because I know you from the bus.”
“It’s cool, Vet. Man, you good. I was thinking the same shit when I heard the CO call your name. Say, stop calling me champ. Just call me Bondz. I’m trying to keep as low as I can in this bitch. I don’t need these people or any of these muthafuckas that think they’re tough coming at me.”
“Bondz”—Vet lowered his voice—“do you think you can teach me some of that shit?”
For the first time, Noeekwol could see fear in his new friend’s face, and he knew he was going to be stuck with him.
“Let’s talk about that when we know what’s going on with us first, alright?” he told him.
Then the COs headed them all out into the main corridor to be taken to their cell blocks.
TWENTY - THREE
The continuous reverberation of Asad’s phones woke up China while he just shifted to a new spot and kept snoring. Irritated by the ringing, China glanced at the time on the clock and guessed that it must be very important. So still half asleep, she reached over Asad and snatched up the cell phone.
“Hello? This better be a real damn emerg-ency with you calling this early.”
“Where’s Asad, China?”
“Byrd, he’s asleep. What’s wrong?”
“Wake him up. He needs to go to the hospital right now because Fame got shot.”
“Oh God, is he alright? Hold on.” She shook Asad awake. “Here, here! It’s Byrd. He said your brother got shot,” China explained as she clumsily passed him the phone.
“What!” Asad snapped awake and snatched the phone out of her hand. “Byrd, what the fuck happened?” he frantically demanded as he sat up in bed.
“Brenda just called and told me that Fame was brought through the emergency room by the police this morning. She said he got hit by a car and shot. I guess they fucked him up real bad, bro. So you need to get over there before they do some more foul shit to him,” Byrd explained.
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