Mama's Boy (12 page)

26

C
ome on, Ryan. Get off the computer and go to bed. It's past your bedtime,” Kay said as she tossed Leslie's Barbie into the toy bin.

“Aww, Mom. Just five more minutes,” he whined.

“That's what you said forty minutes ago.”

“But I've almost figured out this chemistry equation.” He peered at the screen as he scribbled in his notebook.

Kay walked over and stood behind him. She wouldn't know that stuff to save her life; it was just a bunch of equations that looked like a jumble.

“Why are you waiting until the last minute to do your homework anyway? I'm shocked at you,” she chastised.

“Oh, this isn't for tomorrow. This is due next week but I'm trying to get a jump-start on it.”

Kay stood smiling. How in the world could she be mad at that? Ryan was every mother's dream.

“Come on, son. You can finish working on that tomorrow.” She patted his shoulder.

He shut down the computer, grabbed his notebook, and stood up.

“No, sir. Leave that notebook on the table. I know you. You'll be under the cover with a flashlight working on that chemistry equation.”

He smiled. “Guess you got me.” He dropped the book on the table, kissed her on the cheek, and darted upstairs.

Kay put away a carton of juice that someone had left out, then surveyed the kitchen. Thank God for Selena. Not only did she cook and watch after Leslie, but she kept the house immaculate so that when Kay got home, there was little housework to be done.

She turned the light off and headed down the hallway. “Knock, knock,” she said, tapping her husband's office door. “What are you doing in here?”

“Just handling some business.” He leaned back, removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. “Are you about to go to bed?”

“I am. I'm a little drained,” she replied.

“Long day?”

“Yep.”

Running this campaign was no joke. She, Valerie, Loni, and her campaign manager, Jeff, had spent all evening reviewing campaign strategies and preparing for upcoming debates.

“Well, go take your shower and I'll be waiting when you get out.” He ran his tongue over his top lip in that LL Cool J way that always sent goosebumps up her spine. “I hope you can muster up just a little energy for Daddy.”

“That I think I can do.” Kay giggled before darting off to her room.

Kay showered, changed, then snuggled in the bed next to her husband, who, as promised, was waiting when she got out. This was her favorite time of the night, when they decompressed and just enjoyed each other's company.

“You seem a little stressed,” he said, stroking her hair as she laid her head on his chest.

“I am. I know we don't talk about work,” she replied, giving a disclaimer, “but I spent a great part of the day with Officer Wilkins's family.”

Cheryl Wilkins had shown back up at her office this morning. Kay felt like she needed to help Cheryl find a good therapist because the woman was having the hardest time coping with her husband's death. Cheryl had cried and cried and Kay had once again assured her that she was going to bring Jamal Jones to justice. “I just feel really bad for her. It's such a shame to lose—”

“Ah,” Phillip said, cutting her off.

She raised her hands in defense. “Okay, okay. I know we're not supposed to be talking about work.”

“No. Not just that.” He sat her up and turned her to face him.

“You know that thing Riley mentioned to us the other night?” Phillip began.

“What thing?”

“You know, about me taking on the case, your case?”

Kay sat back and stared at him. “Don't tell me you've agreed to it?”

He hesitated, then said, “Yes, I want to. Do you have an issue with me doing it?”

She thought about it for a moment. “You know I'll never tell you who you should and shouldn't represent.”

“That's good to hear. This one is pretty high profile and I don't want it to cause any problems with us.”

Kay thought about it for a moment, then said, “You know what? It'll be fun.” She straddled him. “But you know I play hardball in the courtroom.”

“I know. That's what turned me on about you. That's why I stopped you, though. No discussing the case once we get to 34 Andre Court, right?”

“Oh, you know this.” She wiggled in his lap. “I can't let you use that magnificent body to woo my strategy out of me,” she joked.

“Hmph. You're sure about that?” He pushed her down on the bed and started kissing her neck.

“Positive. May the best person winnnn . . .” She moaned as his lips met her breasts.

“He will,” Phillip muttered between kisses.

Kay stopped him, then lifted his head to meet her gaze. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He removed a strand of hair from her face. “And nothing will ever change that.”

He returned to finish the job of pleasuring his wife.

27

W
ho was this man that she'd married?
That's the thought that ran through Gloria's mind as they stood in the middle of the living room, arguing. Again.

“Are you listening to me?” Elton roared.

Since the day she'd said “I do,” Gloria had put her husband first. There was only one time that she'd put her foot down and stood up to him. Most of their marriage, she'd let him lead, even when she didn't agree. She'd taken care of him, often at the expense of her and Jamal's own feelings. And now, one simple tragedy had transformed her. She no longer cared what Elton Jones had to say.

She massaged her temples. “Elton, it's obvious that we aren't on the same page when it comes to our son.” They weren't even in the same book, but Gloria was tired of arguing. Even if she understood his rationale for turning Jamal in, his behavior now caused her to question everything about her husband.

“I am thinking about this family,” he barked. “I do not want to
use Phillip Christiansen. That's just gonna create more drama. Now, the Black Justice Coalition has top notch people and I. . .”

Gloria tuned him out. He'd already given her 101 reasons why they should work with the ministers and their attorney. She was tired of hearing it.

“You work with whomever the hell you want!” she yelled, and headed out the door. “I'm using Phillip Christiansen!”

She'd driven back to Houston alone, struggling not to let Elton ruin her mood. She and Phillip were scheduled to see Jamal at the jail today and she wanted to be in the best spirits possible when she saw her son.

Gloria lucked out and found a parking spot right in front of the jail. A thought flashed through her mind. Maybe this was a sign that things were about to turn around. Okay, so maybe lucking out on a parking spot didn't necessarily mean anything, but she'd take every little blessing that she could.

Phillip had texted her and told her he was already inside, filling out some paperwork and to just wait in the lobby, which she did. The cold, bare walls of the Harris County Jail turned her stomach. This place was much bigger than the Jasper jail, but it definitely wasn't better. And it was packed. Sad faces, puffy eyes, and exasperated bodies filled the room of people waiting to see their loved ones.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Phillip walked out. “Mrs. Jones, you made it.”

He extended his hand to shake hers, but Gloria couldn't help it, she pulled him into a hug. He didn't seem surprised and simply smiled.

“So, did you get signed in and everything?” Gloria asked. “I'm
amazed that you were able to get this meeting so quickly.” Phillip had been on it and had set up a meeting with Jamal. Gloria was just grateful that she could attend.

“We're all set. I did have to call in some favors to let you be able to sit in on this meeting. But luckily, I cited a case law about a juvenile who had his case overturned because his initial counsel meeting was without his parents.”

“Good thing you know your stuff.” She smiled. Not only was this man on top of his job, but he also seemed to care about Jamal's well-being.

Phillip gave her a reassuring smile, then motioned for her to follow him back.

They walked into a small, dusty room that held nothing but a wooden table and four chairs. Phillip pulled out the seat for Gloria. He eased into the chair next to her.

They sat in silence for about five minutes, Phillip looking over paperwork, she praying incessantly.

The door clicked and both of them sat up. Tears raced to the front of Gloria's eyes as a uniformed guard brought her son in. Shackles adorned his wrists and ankles. The orange jumpsuit swallowed his frame. Fear covered his face. There was a bruise under his left eye.

“Oh, my God. What happened to you?” Gloria asked, jumping up and reaching out to touch his face. He moved his head out of her reach.

“I'm a'ight. This just ain't no party in here,” he said with a raspy voice.

“Did a cop do that to you?” she said.

“Nah, Ma,” Jamal said, sliding in the chair across from her.
“Some dude named Big Earl. But I'm okay, seriously.” He looked at Phillip. “So are you my attorney?”

“That's what I want to talk to you about,” Phillip said. “I want to represent you, but before I officially take on any new clients, I like to have a conversation with them and make sure I'm who they want on their team.” Phillip leaned forward on the table. “I need you to be one hundred and fifty percent honest with me, okay? The only way I can help you is if I know everything. Got it?”

Jamal nodded.

Phillip took out a pad and pen. “Now, I need you to start from the beginning on what happened that night. Tell me every detail.” He looked over at Gloria. “Does your mother need to step out?”

Jamal looked at Gloria. She would die if he asked her to leave, but thankfully, he said, “No, she can hear everything because I've already told her.”

Gloria relaxed as Phillip pulled out a small digital audio recorder. “Hope you don't mind, I'm recording in case I need to refer back to my notes at any point.”

Jamal nodded as Phillip pressed play. “Now, start from the beginning and don't leave out a single thing.”

28

J
amal Jones couldn'
t understand how anyone would want to live in a small town. As soon as he turned eighteen and/or got a little money in his pocket, he was going to put Jasper, Texas, as far in his rearview mirror as humanly possible.

“Yo man, why you so quiet?”

He looked up at his friend Dix, who was leaned up against his '79 Impala.
They were in the parking lot of the Stop-n-Shop, the only convenience store in town that stayed open 24 hours.

“Hello? Am I speaking English?” Dix asked when Jamal didn't reply.

Jamal waved him off as he texted Shante, a girl from nearby Beaumont that he'd met at a football game last week.

“You know he's stressed out,” his other friend, Brian, or Squeaky as they called him,
said. “His pops probably givin' him a hard time again.”

Dix shook his head as he shadowboxed, something he could always be found doing. He had dreams of being the next Floyd Mayweather, though he had never taken one boxing lesson in his life. “Man, if I was you, me and yo pops would be coming to blows, preacher or not.”

“Yeah, Dix is right,
” Squeaky said. “Yo pops be for real trippin'.”

Jamal couldn't argue with that. Ever since he hit thirteen, he and his father had butted heads. If it wasn't for his mother, he probably would'
ve run away a long time ago.

“Why your old man be trippin' like that, though?” Dix asked the question he always asked. “He supposed to be a man of God.”

Jamal shrugged. Like always, he didn't have an answer for his friend. “Just strict. And you know me and rules . . .
”

Squeaky laughed as he reached in the car and pulled a beer out from the backseat. He didn't bother offering Dix one because Dix didn't think “an athlete in training” should drink. Squeaky didn'
t offer Jamal a beer, either, because Jamal hated the taste of beer and never indulged.

“Shoot, for real, it's like you allergic to rules, bruh,” Squeaky said as he popped the top on his beer and took a sip.

Dix shook his head as he laughed as well. “I mean I ain
't never met somebody as smart as you but refuses to go to school.”

Jamal finished his text, then looked up at his friends. “It just ain't for me.” He wanted to say neither is hanging out in the parking lot of a neighborhood convenience store, but since this was
what his friends did dang near twenty-fou
r
/seven, he didn't want to insult anybody. They'd get real salty if he told them the truth; he really didn't care for hanging out with them anymore. He didn't know if he'd outgrown his boys or what, but hanging for the sake of hanging just no longer interested him. He wanted more out of life.

His mother tried to tell him that if he would commit himself to school, he could easily win a scholarship somewhere. She called him gifted, a genius, because he could skip school all year long and then show up for the final exam and ace it. He'd already tested at amazing levels. He'd also gotten interest from nearby colleges for his wrestling skills. Being on the
wrestling team at Jasper High School was the one thing he did enjoy. But after his last suspension for skipping school, he'd been cut from the team. His father told him constantly that he was just going to let all of his talent go to waste. Jamal didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. All he did know was that he wanted out of Jasper, Texas. He hated being a preacher's son and if he was really being honest, he hated his dad. Once he made it out of this town he'd send for his mom to come visit him, but that'
s all he'd ever want from Jasper.

“No hanga out!” The high-pitched sound of the Korean store owner broke up their conversation. “I tell you ova an ova, no hanga out!”

“Hang, dude. There
's no ‘a' at the end of it,” Dix said, laughing.

“You rude! You rude! You motha should teach you betta!” the shop owner said, wagging a finger in their direction. Even though they always came to this store, none of them had ever bothered to learn the man's name.

“Oh, you wanna talk about my mama
?” Dix said, advancing toward him.

“Leave, leave now. It one in the morning. You should be home!” the store owner shouted as he scurried back into the store.

“And you need to be on dese nuts!” Dix yelled, grabbing his crotch.

“I don't know why he keep tryna run us off. It ain
't like he got nobody coming into this busted-ass store anyway,” Squeaky said.

They sat around and laughed and talked for a few minutes and then a police car came rolling up.

“Oh snap!” Squeaky said. He tossed his beer can to the side.

They watched as the lone officer pulled his patrol car to a stop, then got out and came over to
them.

“Yeah, we got a call about some loitering,” he said.

“We didn't call about anyone loitering,” Dix said, stifling a laugh.

Squeaky leaned in and looked at his name tag. “Yes, Officer Keith
Wilkins. We didn't make any calls but if we see anyone loitering, we'll definitely let you know.”

“Oh, so you want to play games, huh?” the officer said.

“Nah, I gave up games at ten,” Dix casually replied.

The officer took a step toward Dix. “
Look you little smart-mouth punk, I don't know who you think you're talking to, but—” The officer's radio, which was attached on his shoulder, crackled, then dispatch said, “All units on alert. Armed robbery of Jake's Liquor on Tafferty. Black male suspect remains at large.”

Officer Wilkins pushed Dix against the car. “You fit the description. Did you rob that liquor store?”

“Man,” Dix said, his nostrils flaring in anger, “we ain't doin' nothin'
and y'all always harassin' us. Racist pigs.”

“Y'all punks always doing something,” the officer said as he pushed Dix again. “Put your hands on the hood!”

Jamal took his cell phone out and began recording.

“You getting this
, bruh? You getting this police brutality?” Dix yelled as the officer snatched him around and kicked his legs to spread them.

“Naw, you wanna be a Billy badass?” Officer Wilkins said as he patted Dix down. When he didn't find anything, he pushed Dix again. “Matter of fact, you know what? I think I need to haul all you in for that liquor store robbery.”

“
We ain't robbed nothin'!” Squeaky shouted. “We're law-abiding citizens. Why don't you go to the other side of the tracks and get those dudes smokin' meth?”

“I can't because I'm over here arresting you,” Officer Wilkins said, moving in Squeaky's direction.

“Arresting me for what?” Squeaky asked as Officer Wilkins slammed him against the car next.

“
For loitering, or suspicion of robbery. Or for being a pain in my ass. I'll figure something out.”

“Seriously?” Squeaky said.

Officer Wilkins ignored Squeaky's protests as he jerked his arms behind his back.

“Police brutality!” Squeaky yelled.

Jamal held his Samsung Galaxy phone out, continuously recording everything. He didn't say a word as he zoomed the camera in.

“Get it all! Get all this police brutality on tape!” Squeaky yelled as he squirmed to try and keep the officer from putting handcuffs on him.

Officer Wilkins finally noticed Jamal. He stopped and stared at the camera. “Are you recording me?”

“Yep. I know my rights. I'm not violating any laws. I have a right to film.” Jamal continued recording. “As long as I'm not interfering in your arrest, I have a legal right to film.” Jamal turned the camera around to his face. “You see how they treat us? If you're young and black in America, you're guilty until proven innocent.”

Officer Wilkins released Squeaky as he took a few steps toward Jamal. “I said, get that camera off me.”

Before Jamal could respond the officer raced over and knocked the phone out of his hand. The phone tumbled into the grass.

“Hey! You can't do that!” Jamal said.

“
I just did.”

“Look, I ain't did nothin' wrong!”

The officer reached for Jamal, but he jumped out of the way.

“You can't arrest me. I didn't do anything. I
'm going home.”

Jamal turned to retrieve his phone and leave when the officer grabbed his arm, spun him around, and flung him to the ground.

“You little piece of—”

“Get off of me!” Jamal screamed.

He kept hearing his mother's voice. It's a police officer, calm down.

While he heard her voice, he saw his father's face. He saw the last time his father beat him, for skipping school. Jamal had promised that was the last time any man hit him.

“Get off of me!” Jamal screamed again. “
Get off me!”

“I'm gonna teach you little punks a lesson!” the officer yelled.

From the sideline, both Dix and Squeaky continued yelling as well.

“Shoot that racist pig!”

“You gon' die tonight, cop!”

The words of his friends rang in his ears as Jamal struggled with the officer, whose rage was rising by the minute. At one point their eyes met, and Jamal knew, this officer was not going to let him live. As Officer Wilkins reached for his service revolver, every wrestling move Jamal had ever mastered kicked in. He managed to flip the officer over. All he was trying to do was get away before this man killed him. But the cop was no weakling. He grasped his revolver and as his fingers moved toward the trigger, Jamal summoned all his strength to wrestle it away.

They fought over the gun until one single shot penetrated the night air.

The sound of the gunfire was followed by silence, then Squeaky yelled “Let's get out of here!” and he and Dix took off running. Jamal wasn't mad at them, because he always knew those two were some “everybody for themselves” type of dudes. But Jamal couldn't think about them now. He hadn
't meant to shoot the officer. As he saw the puddle of blood forming, he knew that he'd done just that.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

“Hey, what's going on?”

Jamal looked up and saw the shop owner peering through the darkness and then Jamal did the only thing he knew how to do. He ran like hell.

.   .   .

Both Gloria and Phillip sat riveted as Jamal wrapped up his story. Tears ran down Gloria's face. Jamal buried his face in his hands and sobbed. “I didn't mean to do it. I didn't mean to do it.”

Gloria wanted desperately to hold him, but the glare of the guard stopped her. She did, however, take his hands as Phillip said, “I believe you, son. Now, we just need to get a jury to believe you, too.”