Mama's Boy (8 page)

15

A
ll her life she had been taught not to hate. But right about now, there was no better verb to describe her feelings. Gloria didn't know how she'd ever be able to get over the contempt she had for her husband at this very moment.

“Honey, please understand,” Elton said, trying to approach her.

Gloria was shivering with anger. “I'm not going to tell you again. Get away from me,” she said through gritted teeth. She stepped out of his reach. She didn't want his touch. She didn't want him sharing the same air as her.

“I just want to see my son,” she said, her voice cracking. They'd been in the Jasper police station for an hour now and no one had told them anything. Elton had gone to try to get answers. “Why won't they tell you how he is?” Gloria snapped. “How he's doing? Since you're in cahoots with them now, you should be able to find out what's going on.”

Elton ignored her dig and kept his voice calm. “Detective King said it's going to take a while for them to process him in.
We're not going to be able to see him. Let's just go home and talk about it.”

“Elton Jones. I'm going to tell you again. Leave me alone,” Gloria said. Her words were dripping with venom.

“Look, I know you don't understand why I did what I did—”

“You're right,” she said, cutting him off. “I don't understand and if something happens to my son behind those jailhouse doors, I will never, ever forgive you.”

“Gloria, it's in God's hands now.”

She jabbed her finger in his face. “Don't give me that crap about God. I know my God. This ain't about Him. This is about you. You don't want to be shamed. You don't want to be bothered with cops and reporters. Your selfishness led you to turn our only son in. Our only child,” she cried.

Elton's lips pressed together. His chest rose, then fell. He exhaled, then simply said, “He was wrong. Our only child committed a crime and was wrong.”

“And we could've figured out how to make it right. But instead, you just turned him over to these racist cops. Knowing they got a death warrant out for him.” The thought of what those cops were doing to Jamal behind those doors was tearing apart Gloria's stomach.

“I did what I had to do,” Elton repeated.

“No, you did what you
wanted
to do. You did what was best for Elton because that's all that ever matters. Jamal was right. You never wanted him. He brought shame to you since the day he was born.”

“Don't go there,” he said.

“Don't do what? Tell the truth? Our son has fought all his life
for your love. And you're the one that's wrong.” She stopped before she said some things she would regret. Right now she had no words for him. There was nothing more that she wanted to say to him. Gloria marched back up to the front desk. “Has your supervisor come in yet?”

“Ma'am,” the bleached-blond desk clerk said as she chomped on a piece of gum like a cow chewing on hay, “I told you my supervisor is having dinner with his family. He don't like to be disturbed during dinner.”

“Well, did you tell him it's an emergency?” Gloria said.

“Well, what constitutes an emergency to you,” she said, not bothering to hide her attitude, “don't necessarily constitute an emergency for everyone.” She leaned back, the buttons on her uniform looking like they were holding on for dear life.

“Look, lady—” Gloria said, banging the counter.

“No,
you
look.” The woman leaned forward and pointed her pencil in Gloria's face. “Unless you want to join your son in jail, I suggest you back up away from my desk.”

“Gloria.” Elton eased up behind her and took her by the elbow. “Come on.”

She snatched her arm away and tried to calm down as she talked to the woman again. “Look, all I need to know is has my son been checked in? I need to make sure he's all right.”

“Well, I don't know what to tell you,” the woman said. “He ain't been processed in the system and until he's in the system, he ain't here!”

“It's not like Jasper has some big high-tech system. Go ask somebody. Hell, go look! See if he's back there!” Gloria was yelling now. Yelling and crying.

The woman folded her arms and glared. “'Cause that's the way you get stuff done, by acting a fool with folks, right?”

“Gloria . . .”

Gloria ignored her husband. She shook her hands to calm herself. “Okay, I'm sorry,” she said to the woman. “If you have children—”

“I got six of them,” the woman said, cutting her off. “Which is the only reason I'm sittin' here letting you talk to me crazy. Cuz I can't afford to cuss you out and get fired.”

“So then you can understand my frustration,” Gloria said, pleading. “If one of your sons . . .”

“My son wouldn't shoot a cop.” The woman turned her lips up.

“Gloria,” Elton said, “I told you this isn't going to get us anywhere.”

“I need to know if he's okay.”

At that moment, Gloria noticed Detective King walking from a back room. He motioned to the woman Gloria was arguing with to let her know he would take over. The woman rolled her eyes at Gloria, then stepped away.

“Mrs. Jones,” Detective King said, “I need you to calm down, okay? You're causing quite a scene.”

“Is Jamal here? Is he okay?” Gloria asked. She didn't have time to hear his admonishments.

“He is okay. Nobody touched him. I made sure of it. I promised your husband that I would look out for him.”

“Are you going to stay here with him? Are you going to spend the night in his cell?” Gloria asked. She was grateful to hear that he was okay, but she would get no peace until she saw it for herself.

“No, but all we can do is pray for the best.”

Pray, pray, pray.
Everybody wanted her to pray. Obviously, her prayers weren't working. She wanted action, not prayers.

“Just understand that I'm doing all that I can to keep him safe,” Detective King continued. “There's a lot of attention on this case. I reiterated that to my fellow officers. So, if something happens to Jamal, they know they're under scrutiny. Maybe that will keep them calm.”

“Maybe?” Gloria snapped. “You want me to trust my son with some maybes?”

“Look, just go on home,” Detective King said. “Find you an attorney and let's go about trying to take care of this with your son the legal way.”

Gloria took a deep breath. She knew he was right. She wouldn't get anywhere acting a fool in this police station. If anything, she would just aggravate these people even more and they'd take it out on her son.

“Come on, Gloria, let's go home,” Elton said again.

Detective King nodded. “I suggest you listen to your husband.”

Gloria cut her eyes at Elton but ignored him. “I'll go home,” she said. “But I'm gonna be back in the morning and I'll be back every single day until somebody tells me something.”

“I understand that,” he said. “I wouldn't expect anything less.”

“Let's go,” Elton said.

Gloria glared at her husband. “The only place you need to go, Reverend Jones, is straight to hell.” She stormed out of the building, angrier than she'd ever been in her life.

16

T
he hustle of the Harris County District Attorney's Office was something out of a network TV show. Prosecutors scrambled, attorneys bargained, defendants prayed. Kay was going to miss this atmosphere.

She reminded herself not to get too cocky. This was a contentious election. But Kay had already begun noting some things that she would change. It's not that her boss, Sam, wasn't doing a good job, but he hated ruffling racial feathers, so she'd seen him come down on the lenient side too many times.

“So, you have the
20/20
interview at nine, then the
Houston Chronicle
at ten.” Loni's hard-driving planning mode shook Kay out of her thoughts.

“Thanks,” Kay said just as her boss tapped on her office door.

“Good morning, Kay,” Sam said, walking in before she could invite him in. “Hello, Loni.”

“Hello, Mr. Turner,” Loni said as she headed toward the door. “Mrs. Christiansen, I'll go make sure the conference room is set up.”

Kay waited until Loni was gone and smiled at Sam. “Wow. I get a visit from the boss twice in one month. I don't know if that's good or bad.”

“Always good when it comes to you, Kay,” he said. “I came to personally hand-deliver this.” He handed her a thick manila folder. “Your last case before you become my boss. It's out of Jasper.”

Kay took the folder, opened it, then began sifting through the stack of papers.

“Oh, I heard about this case on the news,” she said.

“Well, they caught him and you know they're not playing,” Sam said. “This thing will be fast-tracked. Seems like they're trying to ward off any racial unrest. Some civil rights folks have already gotten riled up. They have a march planned this weekend and everything.”

“So, they are protesting? But isn't there video of the kid shooting the cop?”

“Doesn't seem to matter,” Sam said. “Black kid, white cop, Jasper, Texas, equals a recipe for disaster. They're anticipating a change in venue and wanted to give us a heads-up to get ready for it.”

“Should I be taking this case, though?” Kay asked. Granted, the election was just over two months away, but a trial like this could drag on for many months.

Sam nodded. “This is a high-profile case. Lots of media attention. Not only good for you for the election, but good for the department. Plus, they'll be less likely to scream about any improprieties if you're the prosecutor.”

Kay hated being given cases because of the color of her skin.

“Why don't we have Brandon do it?” she asked, referring to one of her black colleagues.

“Because Brandon can barely win a seat belt violation case.”

Kay wanted to ask why he was even on the team then, but she knew it was because Brandon's grandfather was one of Sam's biggest contributors. Kay wanted to name one of the other blacks in the prosecutor's office, but she knew it was moot. Yes, it was an added bonus that she was black working this case, but she knew Sam really wanted her because of her winning record.

“We need a win on this case. We've
got
to have a win on this case,” he said as if he were reading her mind.

Kay studied the mug shot of the young boy and something drew her in. Something about him seemed familiar. Maybe it was the eyes. She'd seen a lot of criminals and this kid didn't have criminal eyes. But judging from the report, he was a criminal.

She skimmed the report some more. “So, he shot a decorated police office. Wow, and the cop had a newborn baby?” she asked.

“Yep. And even though he's guilty as sin, there's talk that the cop provoked him and you know with everything going on with all the police brutality cases, folks are already all riled up. I wouldn't be surprised if Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, and the rest of them show up.”

Kay didn't know who “the rest of them” were, but she let it drop. She knew Sam well. He wasn't racist. He was scared. This case could create some serious problems.

“Okay, fine. I'll take a look at it and get to work. Who is his defense attorney?”

Sam shrugged. “Don't know yet. Kinda got this under the table. You think you can handle this one last case, and your election?”

She glanced at the crime scene photos again. “Not only can I
handle this case,” she said as she tucked the folder under her arm and stood up, “but it'll give me great pleasure to put this hoodlum in jail on my way to the mayor's office.”

Sam's shoulders sank with relief. “Now that's what I like to hear. My ace ADA is on the case, so old Sam can rest easy.”

17

G
od was testing her. Truly testing her to see just how much she could handle. That's the only thing that could explain this latest blow she'd just been delivered.

“Bail is denied.” The white-haired judge in the tweed blazer and wrinkled white shirt slammed his gavel.

“Judge Humphries . . . ” Perry Roberts began.

“Boy, what part of denied do you not get? The de or the nied?” the judge asked, his bushy eyebrows narrowing as he peered over his rimmed glasses.

Gloria wanted to pass out. She knew when the judge walked into the small Jasper courtroom, minus a robe, looking like the leader of the “good ol' boy” system, they were in trouble.

She glanced over at her terrified son. When they'd brought him out and she saw the bruises on his face, the way he looked beaten and broken, her heart felt like someone was doling out their own beating on her.

Gloria knew that Perry had tried his best. A longtime member
of Mount Sinai and a friend of the family, he was retired but agreed to come back and help them with this case. It had been two weeks since Jamal was arrested. Two of the longest weeks of her life, second only to the eight days she didn't know whether her son was dead or alive.

Gloria had spent the first week after Jamal's arrest refusing to speak to her husband. The first two days he'd given her space. But by day three, he was demanding they talk. When she refused, his frustration turned to anger. And when she declined to go to church with him on the Sunday following Jamal's arrest, that anger had turned to fury. But Gloria didn't care. He had betrayed their family in the worst possible way and she never planned to forgive him for it.

The only reason she had let some of the anger go was because Perry had returned to town and told her it was crucial that they present a united front at today's bail hearing.

But as Elton reached for her hand, Gloria once again drew it away. It was going to take a lot of prayer to ever truly forgive her husband.

“Please transport the prisoner back to his cell. Court is dismissed,” the judge said, motioning toward the bailiff.

“Mama . . .” Jamal reached for her like he used to do when he was a baby and she was the only one who could comfort him.

The tears Gloria had been fighting back came at full force at the sound of her son's childlike voice as the bailiff dragged him away.

“It's okay, baby,” Gloria called out after him. “We're gonna get you out of here!”

And just like that, he was gone. Whisked back to his cell, as Detective Martin, whom Gloria hadn't even noticed in the back of
the courtroom, grinned his approval. This time, when Elton went to hold her, she let him. Otherwise, she would've collapsed to the floor.

“Let's go in the conference room and talk,” Perry said once the judge had dismissed them. He led them into a small conference room right outside the courtroom.

“What just happened?” Elton asked.

“What you can expect in a place like Jasper.” Perry sighed as they all sat down around the table. “Overall, we've got some good people in this town. But we have a lot of folks with the old way of thinking. That's why we have to ask for a change of venue. I have no doubt they're going to expedite this trial. There are only three judges in Jasper. Two of them are just like Judge Humphries.”

Gloria knew that was coming. The national media had caught wind of the story and somehow her son had become the poster child for both police harassment and “Young Thugs Gone Wild.” She didn't want to lead a cause. She didn't want the attention.

Gloria just wanted her son home and their boring life back.

“Okay, so a change of venue should be good, right?” Elton asked. “We don't need a jury full of folks who have already condemned Jamal.”

“Oh, you definitely need a change of venue. But I can't do it,” Perry said.

“I know you're retired and came out of retirement just for this,” Elton said, “but we need you, man.”

“I know that,” Perry replied. “And I wish that I could deliver.” He patted a folder that was in front of him. “But this is more than I can handle. I'm old, Reverend Jones.”

“Yeah, but you used to be good.”

“
Used
to be,” he echoed. “I'm sixty-eight years old. I haven't tried a case in five years.”

Gloria hadn't been able to speak. She just clutched the wad of tissue in her hand as she rocked back and forth.

“I can file the change of venue for you,” Perry continued. “It's best to go to Houston. If I were you, I'd work on finding someone there right away.”

“We can't afford one of those pricey attorneys,” Gloria said.

“We're struggling to hold on at the church as it is,” Elton added. “You know the economy has hit us especially hard and tithes and offerings are way down and it's just by the grace of God we're even still hanging on to the building.”

“I'm so sorry,” Perry repeated.

“We don't know any attorneys in Houston,” Gloria cried, the sinking feeling in her stomach intensifying.

“Shoot, we don't know any attorneys but you,” Elton said.

“And I simply can't do this justice,” Perry said with finality.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Gloria asked.

Perry pushed a card in their direction. “This is an attorney named Riley Manning. He got his start in my office and I've kept tabs on him. He's a good guy and real good at what he does.”

“But he doesn't know Jamal like you do,” Gloria protested.

“He's good, though,” Perry replied. “He'll represent Jamal well. I am so sorry and I wish that I had better news for you, but you have to get a change of venue and there's no way I can take on a criminal trial in Houston.”

Gloria stood, clutching her purse to her chest. “Thank you, Perry.” She turned around and headed out the door. She had to get out of there before she had a serious breakdown.

“Thanks, Perry. We'll call him,” Elton said.

Gloria didn't say anything on the walk back to the parking lot. Once they were inside his pickup truck, Elton reached over and took her hand. “I'm sorry, honey. This is stressful on us all.”

She wasn't interested in his apologies. She pulled her hand away. “What are we going to do, Elton?”

“I just don't know.”

They sat in silence for a minute, then Gloria said, “Maybe we can do a fund-raiser at the church, like a legal defense fund-raiser.”

Elton shook his head. “No. I can't go before those people and ask them for a dime.”

“Why not? This is your son we're talking about.”

“Because we have a small church, that's why. We'll raise what? At most, five hundred dollars? That won't even pay for the consultation, let alone a whole defense.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“Well, we can just go with a public defender.”

She quickly dismissed that idea. She couldn't let her son's life hang in the hands of an overworked public defender. “What about this Riley guy?”

“We can't afford him. Even if he works us a deal, we can't afford it.”

“We can mortgage the house.”

“That is my daddy's house,” Elton said, horrified at the suggestion.

“And this is your son.”

Gloria knew that most mothers were closer to their sons, but given their circumstances, she would've thought Elton would have a stronger connection. But since Jamal's birth, it was almost as if
Elton had animosity about the disruption in their lives. And now she was seeing a side of her husband that was the ultimate manifestation of that.

“My son had no concern for me when he decided to hang out with thugs. Now look at where it's left him,” Elton grumbled.

She didn't bother responding to that and just turned and stared out the window.

After a silent ride, Elton turned the car into their driveway, turned the car off, and said, “Call the Riley man. But unless he's planning to do it for five hundred, or pro bono, or out of the kindness of his heart, then we just need to get ready because our son will be going away for a very long time.”

Then he got out of the car like there was nothing else that needed to be said.