ISBN: 9781483514567
Certain aspects of life you have to numb yourself to or you become numb from seeing such dramatic events so regularly that they seem normal.
The rainy season had set in. Birmingham was drenched, but we carried on like normal, seeing but not seeing. Not caring would describe it better.
Two police cars and a Humvee; the jump-out task force team were cruising the streets of a residential area. All the houses were old but huge. The sun hadn’t quite set. On the porch of a particular home was an elderly man; to his side, behind the large potted plants, was an AK-47. Playing with a pit bull on the sidewalk near a rustic old broken-down car was a youngster. Under his shirt in the waist of his jeans was a 9mm, and under the car was another AK-47. They both were actually on post, guarding the outside perimeter of the home.
A sniper bullet struck the old man by the door in the center of his forehead, splattering blood on the siding of the house.
Another bullet ripped through the throat of the youngster, making the dog nervously jump back.
The jump-out unit scooped onto the property and stormed the house. Their armored suits covered their bodies and concealed their faces. Inside the house, there were people counting money and packaging drugs – oblivious until the unit had moved in sweeping from floor to floor, room to room, killing everything and everybody in their path. Some tried to surrender, thinking they would be arrested instead of killed – they were wrong, the bullets sprayed them anyway.
The team was tactical and merciless and highly efficient. Some secured the house while others bagged the money but didn’t touch the dope. In a matter of seconds, the entire operation was over, and the unit had departed the scene as quickly as they had arrived.
……
Country was a 32-year-old sergeant in the Army Reserve – a sniper with the body of an overweight cook, gentle and harmless looking. He wasn’t dumb or brilliant but somewhere in between; smart enough to self-medicate with liquor, bottle after bottle to blink out the confusion from killing – nightmares, sleeplessness and anxiety. He and his unit had toured twice in Iraq and twice in Afghanistan within a 60-month period. He suffered from emotional trauma, PTSD, brought on by what he’d seen and done in the wars.
Country’s wife, Lulu would awaken in the middle of night to Country’s loud weeping to finally find him in the corner of the kitchen, naked, balled up like a scared little child.
…
Country hadn’t been ordered to treatment, but it was a way for him to guarantee he was fit if his unit was deployed again. The Army was his safe heaven. In life he was a nobody, not even average. But in combat he excelled. He was good at killing. He knew if he had a middle of the night episode while on tour he would officially be labeled with PTSD and his career in the service would be limited if not over. Plus the fact he worked as a janitor at the Birmingham Police Department, which meant the city covered the cost of therapy with Dr. Annette Wright. On her couch he could release his rage, justify why.
“…War releases the animal in you. Instincts take over and we fight for survival. It’s like you don’t care about anything or anyone except yourself, and who or what’s yours. You feel nothing. Could care less what happens to anyone or anything else. You do what you have to do. If you allow shame or remorse or even the thought to slip in to your head, you’re dead! Your unit is dead! That’s how we survive! Then they bring us home and want us to act civilized. Like it never happened.”
“Like what never happened?”
Country couldn’t articulate what his mind wouldn’t admit he’d done. “…To carry out orders!”
Annette could physically see Country’s frustration mounting, as he tried to restrain his rage, gripping the edge of the couch with both hands.
“…Defend our country! Complete the mission!”
“Breathe. Breathe. You are in control. You are in control.”
He took deep breaths calming himself. “Yes I am…Thanks, Doc. Same time next week?”
The University of Alabama at Birmingham had made itself interdependent with the city. Its campus stretched from Compass Bank to Greensprings.
Four white male students were strolling in the parking lot of the music hall as if it wasn’t pouring rain. To take a closer look at them, they had the appearance of misfits, slackers – actually they were musicians, members of the symphony – and had been since elementary school.
Their sizes would’ve made you think they were more into sports, but music was their love. Classical music was their way to get a free education, but hip-hop was their dreams to riches and fame. They were a rap group slash band; each could sing, rap and play all the instruments. They’d actually self-produced a CD, but because they were too educated and conscious, the labels had rejected their demos. The leader of their group was Scott, a 20 year old who had a mixture of trailer park trash attitude with a confident swagger of determination. He was the premier rapper and self-proclaimed manager of the group. Contrary to their appearance, the CD was fire.
They’d gotten the CD placed in the mom and pops music stores around the city – but mostly they moved the CD’s themselves-- sold them outside the hot spots in the city with the help of Scott’s wife, Candy, who looked out of his league being super dark and super fine. Candy always pitched the hardest.
“…More like the reincarnation of Young Ryder or Tuc. Buy it. If you don’t like, you can get your money back…I’ll see you at home.”
……
The rain had taken a temporary break. Night had consumed the city. The city’s outskirts, a rural area was almost completely pitched black, even the campus of one of the mega churches – accept for the flashlights of the four masked figures loading valuables out of the church into a white van.
Once the van was completely packed with candle holders, crosses, gold trays, stands and picture frames – the figures went back inside and splashed the place with diesel fuel and set it afire.
As the white van entered on to the freeway, the four figures removed their masks revealing Scot and the three other group members.
Scot drove to a paint shop located in downtown Birmingham, where all four of them worked. It was three o’clock in the morning and no one else was there. The owner trusted them and relied on them so much he’d given them a set of keys.
Two members packed the items from the van into bags and loaded them onto the back of Big CJ’s pick-up.
……
Scott quietly entered his home, a one-bedroom apartment in central city’s projects. He tried to ease into bed, but his toddler daughter awoke then Candy. They all shared the medium-sized bed that took up most of the small cramped room.
“I’m working a double tomorrow. Pick up Sade from Ms. Brown after you get off.”
Candy was a waitress slash singer. She believed in herself and Scott, and did whatever to help with the studio cost and the bills around their apartment and in their life.
I’m Devin James, attorney at law. I’d been on a hiatus from practicing law to resolve some emotional issues I’d had. But I was back, not as a public defender – I’d accepted a partnership with an elder frat brother of mine that had mentored me while I attended law school.
Of course, the idea of having a corner office with a view of the entire city had me enthused, along with the seven figures I was receiving – but at the same time I was leery about defending someone who could afford the retainer fee of the firm.
It was my first day as part of the firm, and I was summoned to a meeting with Emory Collins, the founder of the firm who was also the uncle of Detective Ellis Collins. His office made mine look like a coat closet.
“…This is a high profile case but I’m sure it’ll be nothing to you.”
Emory’s smile, age and encouraging demeanor could’ve been read as manipulative or motivational. He had the perfect poker face and knew it. So I scanned through the file. It was my old elementary school basketball coach. He’d been charged with sexual assault of a female elementary school basketball player. Coach was also a Hall-of-fame pro basketball player that had won championships with the 76ers and the Lakers.
Since I was reading and hadn’t spoken, Emory started to stroke my ego, “He personally asked for you to represent him.”
……
It was hard to not look at the case through the eyes of a father, plus I’d promised myself I wouldn’t knowingly get a monster off – so I met with Coach at his lake house in the woods to see what my intuition had to say.
Coach was fishing from the bank of the lake with a fire blazing and a line of fish waiting to be cooked. He had a kind of inexplicable charisma, an energy about himself that other people just don’t have. He seemed to be in high spirits, but his body language said otherwise.
“…Maybe I should’ve settled when her gold digger of a mutha…” He stopped from cursing. “…propositioned me.”
“Why?”
“Then I would still have the joy of my life: coaching kids, helping develop them …”
He hadn’t actually coached in decades, he micromanaged, almost like an AD of the private elementary school he was part owner of – which was a basketball factory for a bigger basketball factory high school that guaranteed all their players, both boys and girls, would go to Division1 universities…or better, the pros.
“…I didn’t touch that child. I swear on Betty’s soul. It’s hard enough for me to piss let alone think about anything else…” He realized I hadn’t made my mind up if I was representing him or not. “…I’ve being helping the program by networking with the high school…” What he meant was he relocated the families and the talented young athletes. “…She and her evil ass mother are in one of my properties right now. And she had the nerve to ask for my house and $5 million! I can’t even put them out!”
Nothing sounded unbelievable, so I took it as it was possible he hadn’t done it.
Detective Ellis Collins and Dr. Annette Wright had been dating for years. Everything they did showed how deeply they loved each other. Annette was ready for the next stage of their relationship; Ellis Collins was too, but something kept him from popping the question. He was my best friend and frat brother and had told me he was ready. All of his excuses for waiting had run out. Ebony, his daughter, was now a freshmen in college. Annette and his mother-in-law from his first marriage who lived with Ellis Collins, got along great – but something wouldn’t allow him. It was his job – the fear of another person seeking revenge, and Ellis Collins having to relive the horror and the guilt of losing his wife. It had been over a decade, but his wife’s death still haunted him.
The night had been perfect. Dinner, dancing, even the rain made it seem romantic – dashing for Ellis Collins’ car, being soaked by the time he and Annette reached the front door of Annette’s home.
Their passion was feverish, undressing from the time they entered the house, being completely naked by the time they reached her bedroom.
With all the professionalism and control Annette personified as a doctor in the office disappeared in the bedroom; she was a woman who wanted a man who took control, somewhat manhandled her – exactly the way Ellis Collins put it down. At times their lovemaking seemed animalistic, but they both loved it and each other, knowing when to be rough and when to be sensual.
Starting another round of cave man meets cave woman, Annette and Ellis Collins knocked the lamp off the nightstand next to the bed. The bedroom door opened, and a red dot in the dark shined on Ellis Collins’ chest. He saw the figure in the door way and moved toward his holster to be tazed. The electric shock knocked him off his feet. The figure quickly turned on the light.
“C’mon! …” A grey haired old pretty woman in a house robe. She then realized Annette was naked, wrapped in a sheet, standing over Ellis Collins who was gaining his composure. “…I thought someone was in here killing you. All the noise you two were making.” She tried to be subtle peeping at Ellis Collins’ erection.
“What are you doing here, Grandma? You texted that you’d cancelled your trip.”
“You know I’m old school. I meant the flight was cancelled, but I was able to catch an earlier one. Since you gave me a key and you weren’t here, I let myself in. You two keep it down. We’ll talk in the morning. I’m sorry about that, baby.” She was somewhat smiling at Ellis Collins who was catching his breath on the edge of the bed.
……
Annette’s day was going great. She’d arrived at her office to be greeted by a bouquet of roses with a card from Ellis Collins inviting her to lunch. None of her patients had had setbacks. And to her surprise Ellis Collins arrived wearing a new suit.
“We have to leave now. Our reservation at Azure is at 12.”
The restaurant Azure wasn’t Ellis Collins normal taste or budget. It was a fivestar restaurant and super exposure. She knew he was going to propose, but when they stepped into the parking structure on the level of her office; she saw her 70-plus years grandmother driving an up-to-date model rental car, pulling onto their level of the parking structure.
“Grandma what are you doing driving?”