Prince of the City (3 page)

“Yeah, nigga, I took your shit. And from now on, whenever you go to the canteen, you make sure you come and get my list first,” Brutus said. “Now get your bitch ass outta here before I take your manhood and stick my dick in your ass.”

Brutus was enormously big and known to have a one-punch knockout. On top of that, he stayed strapped. Michael knew he couldn't turn back. Brutus had crossed the line of no return. Although it was over some petty-ass tennis shoes and cigarettes, the value of the items weren't the point. It was about principle and respect, and whenever a man's principle and respect were violated, justice must then take its course. On top of that, if Michael were to let it slide, every gorilla on the compound would be taking shots at him, assuming he was weak.

When Brutus got down off the sink, he gave Michael the coldest stare, and his eyes reflected death. “Nigga, didn't I tell your bitch ass to get the fuck outta here? What's wrong? Is you deaf? Did I stutta, muthafucka?”

As Brutus reached into his waist for his knife, Michael slid the long blade from under the sleeve of his sweatshirt while looking Brutus directly in the eyes. Just as Brutus pulled his knife from the front of his waistband, Michael plunged the lawnmower blade straight through the middle of his torso. The blade was so sharp that when he pushed inward, it went through Brutus's body as if he were cutting butter.

Before Michael could remove the knife from Brutus's stomach, Brutus grabbed Michael's sweatshirt and stabbed Michael on the right side of his body near his lungs. Although Michael was strapped with magazines, Brutus exerted so much force that his knife went straight through the magazines and poked Michael's flesh, luckily never breaking the skin. Brutus held Michael so close that he didn't have enough room to pull his blade from Brutus's stomach. So instead of taking it out, Michael grabbed hold of the lawnmower blade with both hands and jerked it upward, tearing the insides of Brutus's guts. The harder he jerked, the lighter Brutus's hold became until finally he let go.

When Michael noticed Brutus weakening, he pulled the long blade out, held it up like a sword, and chopped the right side of Brutus' neck, cutting deep into his jugular vein. Blood gushed out of his neck like a waterfall, while at the same time his intestines fell out of his stomach. Brutus fell to the floor, dying instantly.

Michael stood over Brutus's body much like a lion after killing its prey. Although his victim was dead, Michael wanted to send a message to the rest of the convicts at Lorton. He wanted to make it fully known that he, Michael Antonio Perry, was not to be fucked with, and whoever violated him in any way would be treated the same. So he reached down, grabbed Brutus by the head, and began chopping at his neck. As he looked down at the body lying in a pool of blood, and now disconnected from the head, Michael mumbled, “Nigga, the only manhood you took today was your very own.” Then he spat on Brutus.

At that very moment, Slim James burst into the bathroom. Instantly, Michael became alarmed. Still clutching his blade, he turned to look Slim in the eyes and noticed Slim wasn't strapped. Instead, he held a fresh prison uniform in his hand.

“Look, nigga, I ain't come in here to do you any harm. I came to save your life,” Slim said, standing face-to-face with the young but fearless warrior. “Now wipe that blade with this towel and put on these clothes. Leave the blade and throw the clothes in the toilet,” Slim James instructed. “Hurry up before the CO comes to make his rounds.”

As Slim looked over at Brutus and noticed his headless body, he said, “You know you sending a vicious message, right?”

Michael never answered.

In the following weeks, Slim James and Michael became close friends. They ate, worked out, and played ball together. They walked the yard while learning more about each other. Michael thanked Slim for saving his life. Right after the incident, the CO came around to make his rounds and found Brutus decapitated. If Slim had never walked in, Michael would be doing a life sentence behind the walls of Lorton. Michael would never forget what Slim James did, and for that, Slim James had his respect.

Michael and Slim became cellmates for the remainder of Michael's sentence. They shared their dreams of becoming young millionaires. Also, they had talks of getting out of the game and going legit. They talked about women, but most of all, they talked about a plan to get on top and remain on top. None of these plans would ever work for Slim though. They were more of a fantasy for him since he was serving thirty-five years to life for two murders. As for Michael, it was just a matter of time. So instead, Slim's plan was to stay close to Michael until his release, and then take over the throne and run the prison compound.

After Brutus's murder, Michael became the most talked about convict in the compound. Niggas respected and feared Michael. He held his position with style. During the last two years of his sentence, he put together a most vicious team that would rule Lorton Prison until the walls fell down. His right-hand man was Slim James, and his advisor was his brother-in-law, Jason. Also, he had two vicious youngins around, Gerald and Carlos, both hailing from a crime-ridden neighborhood in Southeast that obviously lived up to its name. They began moving all the drugs once he took over Donnie G's business. Michael always knew Donnie G was a cruddy nigga. Donnie had known that the items Brutus gave him belonged to Michael. He was the only person in the jail with those Nikes, and weeks before the incident, Donnie had asked Michael about the sneaks. It was Donnie who'd sent Brutus on that mission. Donnie tried to kill two birds with one stone—get the shoes and give up Brutus. That way, he didn't have to worry about Brutus extorting him anymore.

Once Michael got his crew together and his connections with Slim James's older brother on the outside, he put hismove down on Donnie G. Donnie had raw dope coming in by the ounces. In Lorton, you could make some real money, but you had to have your operation tight. And Donnie G's operation was skintight. He had a lil crew from Northeast that held him down, but there was no other team as vicious as Michael's. Michael realized he needed to have some start-up money when he got out, and the only way to get it was hustling while he was still locked up. After all, his best friend Black Sam wasn't doing too well on the outside, and surely, he didn't want to come home and have to rob a bank after doing seven years.

One morning, Michael and his crew got up and strapped themselves with knives at breakfast time. They went into Donnie G's dorm while he was still at breakfast. The two youngins from Simple City, Gerald and Carlos, stood outside the dormitory as lookouts while Slim James and Jason waited in the back for the signal. Michael broke into Donnie's cell and hid under the bed. When Donnie came back, the youngins gave the signal. Slim James and Jason let him through, but cut off any familiar faces in Donnie's crew. Donnie didn't even realize what was going on. He thought they were there to bring someone else a move, not knowing he was the victim all along.

As Donnie walked into his room, Jason and Slim James stood in front of the cell blocking the door.

“Hey!” Donnie said after looking back. “What the fuck y'all doing?”

At that moment, Michael rolled out from under the bed with two knives taped to his hands. “Surprise, Donnie! I came for what's rightfully mine.”

“Heeeeeeeey, Mike . . . if you're talkin' 'bout that thing with Brutus, you ain't gotta go like this.”

“Don't tell me what I don't gotta do. I'm the one in charge. I'm the aggressor in this situation, and I make the calls. Now sit your ass on that toilet and listen carefully,” Michael said. Donnie did as he was told. “Now look, Donnie. I want everything.”

“Everything? What you mean you want everything?”

“If I have to repeat myself, you'll be the next nigga they'll be sending home in a box. Now, like I said—everything. Put it in the pillowcase.” When Donnie went to reach behind the toilet, Michael said, “Don't even think about making a move. You're outnumbered. I got two niggas out front holding off your crew and two niggas holding this cell, and I alone have two knives on you. That's five against one. Either way, you come out dead.”

“I ain't that stupid, Mike. I'm just getting out the dope. Here, that's one ounce of raw dope.” Donnie reached into a hollow brick in the wall. “And that's one ounce of weed and a half ounce of coke.”

“Okay, now where's the money?” Michael asked.

Donnie went into his locker and pulled out about fifteen cartons of cigarettes. “There's fifty dollars in each pack. That's all I got, slim. I swear. You can turn this muthafuckin' cell upside down.”

“Okay, but before I leave, I'm gonna let you know something. I always knew you were a cruddy nigga. I knew you set up the move for Brutus, but I also knew when we robbed that bank with them uptown niggas, you stashed some money in your nuts.”

“Mike, man, that was years ago.”

“Yeah, but I'm letting you know that you ain't get nothing past me, nigga. I'm like God. I see everything. Now move your bitch ass the fuck outta my way.”

Relieved that his life had been spared, Donnie quickly moved out of the way to let Michael pass.

With his back facing Donnie, Michael said, “I want to thank you for something.”

“What's that, Mike?”

When Michael turned, he looked Donnie straight in the eyes and replied, “For giving me the opportunity to send your bitch ass to hell.” He then stabbed Donnie a total of twenty-two times in the stomach, neck, and head.

In the following months, Michael made more money in prison than he did on the streets. After selling all the dope he had gotten from Donnie G, he sent half the money home to Connie and copped with the other half.

Connie was still in his corner, and although it was hard raising a child while his father was living in a prison environment, they managed to make the best of it. Malik respected and loved his father, something his mother had instilled in him. Connie was the perfect wife. No other woman could ever fill her place. She was his queen. From prison, Michael paid the rent for their two-bedroom condo at Wingate Condominiums in Southwest D.C., and he also paid for Connie to attend nursing school. In addition, he had Connie trade in the Cadillac for a reliable car that would make it down to Lorton in any weather.

Michael was making at least five thousand dollars every three weeks selling dope. He'd often get three ounces of raw from Slim James's brother, Sonny. He'd get Sonny to give it to Connie, and she would give it to CO Carter to bring in. Slim James and Jason would cut the dope and bag it up, while Gerald and Carlos flat-footed the compound. Michael just sat back, collected, and smiled. He didn't have to put in any work to keep the compound level. All he had to do was keep his crew in check and let them run the joint while he sat on the throne.

In 1985, Michael's parole hearing came up. This was the most critical stage of his bid. This was the time when he needed God the most. Michael had everything he needed to get paroled, a clear conduct sheet and a degree in marketing from attending the University of D.C. prison college program. Also, he had earned all kinds of certificates in anger management, A.A., N.A., parenting, etc.

One day at mail call, Michael received a letter. He thought it was from the parole commission giving him an answer, but instead it was postmarked from New York with no return address. He eagerly wanted to know who was writing him from New York. As he opened the letter, he was aroused by the smell of a perfume that wasn't Connie's. Michael sat down on his bed and began reading.

 

Dear Michael,

How are you? I pray that when you receive this letter, you read it carefully and know that I love you. You were my first love and always will be. Before you got locked up, there was something I wanted to tell you. Even though you left me for Connie, I still tried to tell you, but was too scared to get my feelings hurt once again. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to tell you, but I have moved on with my life now and just thought you needed to know. When you got locked up, I was two months pregnant. Don't worry, I didn't have it, and yes, you were my only boyfriend at the time. It was your child, Michael, and now he's gone and I hate you for that. You left me for that bitch Connie. You made me have an abortion and move to New York just so I couldn't see your face. You humiliated me, nigga. I was pregnant with your child.

I HATE YOU, MICHAEL! I HOPE YOU DIE!

C.J.

 

Unfazed by the hatred of this woman from his past, but more concerned with his parole hearing, Michael quickly tore up the letter and envelope and threw them in the trash.

“Stupid bitch,” he said while shaking his head.

 

 

Chapter 4

- (1985) A LION'S ROAR -

 

 

n the spring of '85, Michael Antonio Perry was paroled. When he left Lorton, he had accumulated one hundred thousand dollars, which was stashed in his and Connie's condo. He'd left Slim James and Jason with all the dope. While he was on the street, he was going to be their connect. Their plan was to keep the money flowing.

Connie sat in her brand-new Maxima in the prison parking lot, dressed in her best and awaiting the arrival of her king.

Michael left the prison in style. He wore his new Fila sweat suit and matching tennis shoes that Connie sent. His crew walked him down the corridor to the central office where he'd be officially released. Michael turned, and with a deep breath, he took one last look at Lorton's Youth Center. Then he embraced each of his comrades and told them he would never forget them and he would always be there for them no matter what.

As the gates opened, Connie ran up to him, embracing and kissing her husband so intensely that he could feel the missing years of their life apart.

“Connie, I'll never leave you again.”