10-80: Line of Duty Series (3 page)

The room was filled with a quiet and almost eerie silence. I couldn’t tell if it was Phil’s personal encounter or the tears rolling down his face as he packed up his bag and left the class.

Hillman let the silence continue for a while, then he said, “I bring this up because we all have our own personal experiences with the
boys in the blue
,” he made the quote signals. “However, what most of us don’t have is the experience on the other side. As a former police officer, yes and criminal justice major, I thought I saw it all. The good, bad and ugly. However, as a 6’3 black man much doesn’t scare me, besides walking into an uncertain situation and not knowing what I’m about to face. What Phil said,” he pointed to the door. “I’d have to concur. Some of you, if you even admitted it, are scared to walk in certain parts of the neighborhood and know Boo Boo is a menace to society. However, when you call the police, and we put Boo Boo down, it’s a travesty. Don’t get me wrong. Shit happens, mistakes happen, and people’s biases come out in these tense situations. I’ve worked with racist cops. Plenty of them. However, I’ve worked with some of the best cops. The very white ones that have given Boo Boo chances, over and over again. All of that being said, some of the recent happenings have been more than a tragedy and I have walked and stood in those protest lines because some of these were senseless deaths. There was no reason and people should be held accounted for that. The police are here to serve and protect, but when they become the very predators that we need protection from, something needs to be done about that. We, as a society, are in trouble.” He sighed. “That’s my peace. Now on to the next subject. Pull out your notes pads and copy what’s on the board.”

Intense was the most accurate word for the day. I was sure there were more opinions as I would have definitely agreed with Kat. They’re a gang, but I’d seen them perform acts of kindness. Even if it was giving me a handkerchief to wipe my tears or apologize for another one of their brothers poor delivery of a crime. I had seen more, but I’d rather not think about them. No matter what the conclusion was in this class, the reality in the hood was cops were not your friends.

“
Z
ee
, what do you want for breakfast?” I yelled in the general direction of his room.

“Nothing, uh. I got to get to school early.”

“Oh, okay.”

He came running out of his room with a full backpack. He never was up and dressed this early. The only way to get him up was by frying bacon, which was sizzling on the stove.

“Zee, what’s up? You’re never up this early.”

“Nothing, just need to get to school early. They have breakfast there.” His lanky legs started towards the door.

“You forgetting something?” I asked.

He sighed. “Sis, I’m fourteen years old. That’s so old.”

“And I care because.”

He walked to me, gave me a hug. “Love you,” I whispered.

“Love you too.”

He almost ran out of there, causing the table to wobble. I heard the lock click behind him and continued to fry the bacon and stir the oatmeal that I had to eat alone.

This was Zee’s first year in high school and his grades averaged to a C, but he was smart, so he could definitely be an A student. He was getting bigger, so we needed to go shopping for clothes. I could not afford the most expensive clothes that he wanted because we were beyond a tight budget. Welfare only paid so much, babysitting was not a lot, and the rest of my time was at school. Causing my means of making money to be limited. I only wanted Zee to focus on school, but we had started the application to apply for Summer Youth so he could work and get a job. However, in order to maintain our housing, we could not bring in more than a certain amount of money.

The apartment had originally belonged to our mom, but as of five years ago, her name was taken off the lease. She was robbing us blind, staying out all night and bringing her crackhead friends over. I was still in high school, but my counselor, at the time, had told me what to do. Since I was of age, I could take custody of Zee. A caseworker would come and check in on us and we had wrap-around services that provided us with different resources that helped us to manage this new found freedom. Mom was taken off of the lease and that was a huge drama in itself. She even had neighbors trying to get us to let her in the house.

The woman had stolen everything. My clothes, towels, my clip-on ponytails, and even my comforter. Anything of Zee’s was already gone. The last straw was when she had her ‘friend’ over who thought I was fair game to supply Mom’s habit. After I beat him with the old-fashion skillet and kicked them both out, I realized I had to make some changes.

She had not shown her face in a couple of years, but people would tell me they saw her around. I missed my mother, but that woman was not my Mom. She was somebody else and was not welcome in our lives. Zee understood that, but not at the extent that he needed. That concerned me.

Around noon, I received an automated message from Zee’s school, stating that he did not come.

This was weird because he carried his tail out of here early this morning. I knew something was off. This was not like him and I did not need any drama. I went outside, walked around the neighborhood and asked different ones if they had seen Zee. Nobody had seen him. He did not have a phone, so I went to one of his best friend’s house. They were actually family friends.

“Hey, Mrs. Henry, have you seen Zee,” I asked.

She looked like she just woke up. Her eyes were low and she was in a robe.

“Naw, baby, but I just got a call that Reggie wasn’t in school today.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“What! That boy ain’t go to school?” A male’s voiced boomed in the background.

“Bae, I got it. It’s D’asia looking for Zee.” Mrs. Henry tried to sooth her husband.

Mr. Henry was known for his temper and this got him locked up a few times. He did not beat his wife, but the little punks in the neighborhood. He did not play that shit with them. Then they’d get their fathers, uncles or whoever, but Mr. Henry used to box professionally. One-hit wonder was his nickname. One good hit and your ass would be out.

Mr. Henry came to the door in nothing but running shorts. So, she wasn’t just sleepy. She just got some. Made sense. Mrs. Henry was in her early forties, very stylish and drove a BMW. She was one of the beauties the older men used to talk about. However, apparently, she always belonged to Mr. Henry and he never messed around. They would say, he knew what he had. One of the few couples whose drama, if they had any, was not known around town. Their son, like Zee, did not get into trouble.

Mrs. Henry turned around to look at her husband, whose eyes were sharp and they were piercing through me.

“Zee didn’t show up at school?” he asked.

“No,” I replied.

“That means, Reggie didn’t either.” He tapped his wife on the butt, then said, “Get some clothes on so we can go find their asses.”

“Okay,” she said and left.

“Come on in.” He opened the door.

When his wife was gone, he said in lower tones, “the word is, a few gangs are recruiting. I already made it clear that Reggie would have no part. However, that don’t mean Reggie won’t adhere to that. I said the same went for Zee. However, I can’t help if they go looking for that shit. You know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah,” I sighed.

“Okay, mama don’t know about this. She can’t handle that stress right now, but I’m telling you.”

Mama, meaning his wife.

“Got it.”

“Okay, sit tight.” He went into the back.

Man, this is the type of neighbors you needed during times like these. They lived in the public housing units around the corner, but not in the high rises. Their home resembled the two-story townhouses with another family that lived on the top of them, but their entrance was in the back. I wasn’t in their business to know why they had leather couches, flat screen televisions, two luxury cars or anything like that, but Mr. Henry kept his shit tight and so did his wife.

W
e rode around
for an hour and still no sign of the boys. Around two-thirty, Mrs. Henry’s phone rang as we were at the local iHop eating since we were famished. She was told that Reggie was at the police station. Mr. Henry did not say anything, but his features were twisted in a way that I felt bad for that boy. A few minutes later, my phone rang telling me the same information. Zee was at the precinct.

We rode there in what felt like minutes because Mr. Henry was driving so fast. Once they directed us to the right location, we were told to wait. Mr. Henry still didn’t say anything and his wife looked like death warmed over.

A police officer came out to inform us that the boys were caught spray-painting over a mural of Malcolm X near 112th Street. It was surmised that they had planned to do this for a bunch of murals since they had street numbers and descriptions on a sheet of paper. At this point, they were not being charged, but they needed to do community service, starting with the cleaning of the mural. Mrs. Henry sighed with relief, but I was quaking with all sorts of anger. Apparently so was Mr. Henry.

“The arresting officer will be out here to speak with you in a minute.” The police officer said. “The boys should be coming out here too.”

I turned to say something to Mrs. Henry until I heard. “You ain’t nothing but a pig.” That was Zee’s voice.

Then, I heard laughter, and Reggie say, “Right.”

Mr. Henry stood up, abruptly, nearly knocking the chair over. Reggie lost all humor and dread entered his face.

“You find something the fuck funny?” The big man seethed at his son.

I stood as well, to glare at Zee. His face also dropped.

“D’asia?” He choked out.

Mr. Henry had grabbed his son and was talking through his teeth in one corner and I was staring at Zee with nothing but disappointed in my face.

“I’m sorry, D’asia.” He had tears in his eyes.

“You’re not sorry. You’re in fucking jail, calling a cop a pig and think that shit is funny. I’m trying my damnedest to make life work for us and you’re skipping school and spray painting over Malcolm X. A legend, who was killed trying to make life easier for you. Not only are you disrespectful, but ignorant. You weren’t raised that way, I’m so disappointed in you. I don’t know what to do.”

“No, D’asia. I’m sorry. Honestly.” He pleaded.

“Save your sorries, Zee. You have no idea what sorry is.” I snapped.

“D’asia, is it?” A familiar voice interjected.

I turned to see the officer that kissed me.
Oh my God
. He was smiling at me, then when it wasn’t returned, he said, “Zeke, here had some interesting views about the police. Wondering where he might get that from.”

“Were you the one that arrested him?” I asked, ignoring his comment.

He cleared his throat and answered, “Yes, ma’am. I was.”

“Zee,” I called but remained looking at the cop.

“Sorry, sir for disrespecting you.”

“You’re not, but it’s cool. I’ve heard worse. What your Mom here is saying…”

“His sister,” I interrupted.

His eyebrow lifted to me, and then he turned his gaze on Zee and continued, “What your sister here is saying is that Malcolm X was known for his stance on black power, equality and handling things by any means necessary. He was a Muslim and known as a militant and usually called white people, devils. However, after a trip to Mecca, he saw ever color and nation worshiping Allah. He changed his views and this was not popular. He was a really smart man and though he aligned with one group, after being exposed to something different, he changed his views and this made him a target. He was assassinated, right here in Harlem. It really wasn’t that long ago. It wasn’t in our lifetime, but his spirit still lives on. To deface a mural would be horrific not just for the people in this community, but for people all over. His life impacted many.”

O-kay.

Zee looked at me to see if what he was saying was correct. I nodded my head and he put his head down in shame.

“So,” Officer McFadden, so the name on his badge read, continued. “He’s to do community service, every Saturday. A letter will come in the mail with the details. He’s to be here at 8:00 AM for the next six months and he’s going to serve his community, rather than tear it down. Right, Zee?”

“Right,” he muttered.

I wanted to say thank you. He was doing the boys a huge favor. Doing
me
a huge favor. However, I could not bring my mouth to say it. Call it pride or just too big of an ego, but he was waiting for me to say it. It was written all over his face. One eyebrow raised and a slight lift of the corner of his sexy lips.

“Zeke, can you give your sister and me a minute?” he asked.

He walked over to the empty chair and sat down, face to the ground.

“The name is Ryan and you’re D’asia.” He pulled me further away from the hall.

I nodded.

“So, you can thank me over coffee.” he smiled.

I knew it.

“I…” He stopped me from talking and held one finger up to my mouth.

“Before you start your shit. I’m not taking no for an answer. I tried to be nice before, but I’m not playing that game anymore. You’ve been on my mind and I don’t believe in coincidences. So,” he went into his breast pocket and pulled out a card. “Here is my card. Zee has it too and my cell phone number is written on the back. Coffee, D’asia. Just coffee. Wherever you want, but we are having coffee.”

His finger was warm against my mouth. Part of me wanted to take it in my mouth to taunt what he’d never get and the other part of me was appalled that he took the liberty to touch me like he had the right to. My back was towards the Henrys and Zee, so all they could see was him and not what he was doing. I grabbed his finger with mine and pulled it down in front of my chest. Right between my breast. His mouth parted at my bold move as his eyes looked to where his hand was resting.

“I said, no.”

He looked back up at me and said, “And I say, you’re scared.”

I scoffed at him.

“I get it. I do.” He said, “However, I don’t give a fuck. All I’m asking for is coffee.”

It would not kill me to have coffee. Then I wouldn’t have to fix my mouth to say thank you.

“Fine, just coffee.”

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain. Thought I had to break a finger to get my wish.”

“Whatever.”

“Though, I do like where my finger is right now. We won’t complain.”

I let him and his finger go.

He smiled at me, and then said, “I expect to hear from you by Friday.”

“Right.” I said and turned to leave.

He followed, spoke with the Henrys, gave them his card and left. Once we were all loaded in the car, Mr. Henry went in on the boys.

“Have you lost your motherfucking minds?” He roared.

“Calm down, Reg.” His wife whispered.

“I will
not
calm down. We are doing the best we can and you knuckleheads go out to get yourselves arrested.” The car quaked with his booming voice. “Reggie, your mother is sick and you know it. This is how you do. Zee, your sister, is raising you, ‘cause your mom can’t right now and this is how you do? I expect more out of you. I’m so disappointed. You are grounded for two months and I swear to God, if I hear you complain even once, I’ll extend it another month.”

Once he finished, the car was filled with sniffling and not only were the boys crying, but Mrs. Henry was too. Her husband heard her, switched driving with his right to his left hand and pulled her in, so her head was on his chest.

“Babe, I’m sorry,” he whispered and rubbed her hair as she continued to sniffle and hold on to him.

They dropped us off and told me that if I ever needed anything, to just ask. We went to the house and sitting outside of the door was the ghost of Christmas nightmare. If it was not one thing, it was another.

She stood up, looking like a fraction of the woman she used to be. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf as she was probably attempting to come down. I hadn’t seen her in two years, but seeing her now, wished that time span could have been longer. She was in deep and she really needed to get help.

“Mom,” Zee ran to her to give her a hug.

“Hey, baby. You’re getting so big.” She said.