Authors: Clever Black
Koko grew weak-kneed. She had to be helped to her feet by her father
while Kimi ran down the patio stairs and stood before the car and
stared as she covered her lower face. She looked at the car, then
back at her mother who was all smiles. Kimi did that routine
repeatedly as Koko wobbled over to the front of the car and stood
beside her sister and the two shed tears as they stared at the
immaculate vehicle. The car was dressed in white leather, wood on the
door panels and steering wheel, Bose sound system, TVs in the
headrests and a personalized tag that read
DA-TWINZ
. “
Koko! They got it! They got it!” Kimi yelled excitedly as she
jumped up and down with watery eyes.
“I don’t believe it! Oh my god,” Koko whined as she
stepped back and stared at the vehicle in awe.
Kimi and Koko had merely shown their mother and father a picture of a
car they thought was beautiful on-line nearly a year-ago, but Naomi
and Doss, ever proud of their middle daughters, made it happen on
July 4
th
and the twins were thrilled to tears. The summer
of 2006 was the best on record for seventeen year-olds Kimi and Koko,
who’d completed their homeschooling and were now embarking on
careers that would solidify their positions within the family for
years to come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THE FIRST COLLAPSE
“The medicine. It has to be the medicine that is making me
nauseous, Mendoza.” Francine said as she rode beside her
husband holding a plastic bag.
It was a month after Kimi and Koko’s decision, August of 2006.
Seventy-five year-olds Mendoza and Francine were on their way to the
hospital to have more tests run on Francine because it seemed as if
her cancer was metastasizing and coming back in full force despite
her double mastectomy several years earlier.
“That may be it,” Mendoza said as he grabbed his cell
phone and called Junior over to
Eastside Bar
.
“Grand dad, how’s everything?”
“Not good. Shortly after you left, your grandmother fell ill
and started vomiting all over the place. I’m headed to Mount
Sinai right now to have her admitted again.”
“I’m headed that way.” Junior said as he got up
from his stool behind the bar counter and signaled Eddie.
“No, no, son. I have it under control. Besides you have that
other thing.”
“No. Grand dad, I want to be there. Last time I stepped out on
my family, my father died. I’m not saying that is what will
happen to grandma, but I’m coming to the hospital. I should be
there.”
“Well, I guess so. Can somebody cover for you down in Granite
City?”
“Yeah. Eddie and the guys can cover for me.”
“Okay. We’ll be in the Cancer Center with your mother’s
doctor.”
“Okay. I’m on my way, grand dad.”
Junior left Eddie in charge and headed out to meet his grandfather
and grandmother at the hospital. Eddie, meanwhile, remained behind
for another hour securing
Eastside Bar
before he hopped into a
rented U-Haul truck with Jay-D and headed south towards Granite City,
Illinois where he was scheduled to meet Dooney and Malik at the
crew’s safe house to unload twenty kilograms of cocaine.
“So what’s up with this rap business you and Dooney
supposed to be startin’ up, Jason?” Eddie asked as he
drove south on Interstate-55.
Jay-D sucked his teeth and leaned back in the passenger. “Dooney
keep bringin’ these ole fake ass gangsta rappers’ CDs
‘round the crib wantin’ me to listen to that wack ass
shit. Talkin’ ‘bout, ‘dog we gotta go ‘head
and get the label started so we can sign these niggas’.”
“They ain’t that bad are they, li’l brother?”
“Shiit. Niggas be talkin’ bout how many bricks they
moving, niggas they done popped on the streets, how the feds be all
up in they shit.”
“That’s some real talk, though. And that gangsta rap be
sellin’, li’l brother.”
“It do, but them niggas Dooney sendin’ at me ain’t
got a clue how shit really work. And if they did, or do, I don’t
want that shit being talked about while we off into this here game.
That’s a case waitin’ ta’ happen. Ain’t gone
do nothing but draw heat.”
“I can dig it. Keep at it though, this game ain’t
forever.” Eddie said as he turned up the radio and continued on
down the highway.
Four and a half hours later, Eddie was pulling up to the crew’s
safe house in Granite City. The neighborhood where the house lay was
in quiet suburb consisting of newly built one and two story single
family homes with paved driveways, lush green lawns and two car
garages. People rarely ventured outside in this neighborhood and that
worked out well for the Chicago Gang.
Malik and Dooney emerged from the one story home as Eddie was backing
into the driveway and they greeted Jay-D. “Dog, got this tight
producer over to the Lou, man. His CD in the car. We can check it out
after we done unloading,” Dooney said happily.
“Man, you and them wack as niggas you keep stressin’,”
Jay-D snapped as he raised the door on the U-Haul. “Fake ass
wanna be ass no rappin’ ass niggas.”
Malik laughed and said, “We was listening to the tracks on the
way over here, homes. They pretty good. You should listen.”
“See? That’s a man that know talent like myself. I should
be an A and R rep.”
“More like a BS rep,” Jay-D quipped as he grabbed a small
box containing five kilograms of cocaine. Jay-D, Malik and Dooney
followed and the product was unloaded in a matter of minutes and
Eddie quickly began situating the cocaine inside a closet in the
master bedroom of the two story home.
“Y’all go on out,” Eddie said. “I got it from
here. I be done in a couple of minutes and we gone go get Nancy from
the hair salon.”
“Your daughter live in the salon,” Jay-D said as he
headed for the bedroom door.
“Eh, ever since she learned they had people that can braid her
hair without ripping it from her scalp she been a happy camper. She
done seen the light,” Eddie said with his hands on either side
of head and sounding like a preacher.
“Whatever, reverend cocaine,” Jay-D replied as he left
the bedroom and exited the home.
A few minutes later, Jay-D, Dooney and Malik were sitting in Eddie’s
Tahoe listening to a sample of music from Dooney’s new-found
talent. Jay-D was nodding his head slightly in appreciation of the
instrumental he was listening to, which was a sampled track of the
Isley Brothers’ song
For the Love of You
. The beat was
mellow, with Ron Isley’s soulful, “
yeah…well,
well, well…yeah, heh…”
looped over a smooth
bass line.
Dooney took notice of his brother and Malik’s head bobbing from
the back seat. “What I tell ya’, Jay-D? That boy got some
work with ‘em!” Dooney said aloud the music as he began
tapping his feet and bobbing his head.
“He aite,” Jay-D replied casually, not wanting to fully
admit that the dude’s track was the tightest piece of music
Dooney had ever come across. “What this nigga name?”
“His name Alonzo Milton. I ran into ‘em over to Bangin’
Heads where Nancy get her head tightened up.”
“Okay. We gone, we gone hollar at ole boy later on when we grab
Nancy, then. See what else he workin’ with.”
Dooney began bucking in the backseat. “We gone be some legit
rich niggas!” he exclaimed.
Jay-D smiled and shook his head. “That’s a fool back
there,” he said. “Malik, how the cleaners Doss ‘nem
bought comin’?”
“You don’t see me workin’ that joint, homes? We
guttin’ the inside right now. That’s gone be the hottest
club in the Lou when we done.”
“And it’s right on our block, nigga!” Dooney
snapped. “We get this label poppin’ we can do live shows
ya’ smell me?”
“The hottest club, huh, Malik? How long before you able to get
that thing poppin’, fam?” Jay-D asked.
“Well, with just me and three other guys right now? I say two
years.”
“Two years?” Jay-D asked as he sat up in his seat.
“Nigga, we ain’t even guaranteed to be here tomorrow let
alone two—”
“Yoooo,” Dooney yelled over the music from the backseat
as he pulled down on his fitted baseball cap. “Rollers!”
Jay-D and Malik looked up to see four patrol cars speeding up the
block. They then turned to the rear and saw four more cars speeding
there way with flashers blaring. Before Jay-D, Dooney and Malik could
even react, the Tahoe was surrounded by eight officers while eight
more patrolmen towards the front door and knocked it off its hinges
with a small battle ram.
“Police search warrant! Search warrant! Search warrant! Come
out with your hands up! Hand up! Get down! Get down! Get down!”
Eddie had just finished stashing the cocaine when he heard the
officers entering the home. Remembering the last raid, and Doss’s
orders, he grabbed his .9mm from his waistband and calmly stood
beside the bed with the gun at his side. An officer peeked around the
corner and saw Eddie standing beside the bed with his gun and aimed
his weapon. “Freeze, mutherfucka or I will shoot you and kill
you!” he yelled. “Drop the gun, turn around and raise
your hands in the air!”
“I done heard that shit before, man. If I’m going to
jail, I wanna be certain the law takin’ me in and not some
cowboys. Show me the search warrant,” Eddie said calmly.
“Drop your weapon!” the officer yelled.
“Show me the mutherfuckin’ warrant!” Eddie retorted
as he held his gun at his side with his finger on the trigger. The
officer fired a single shot that hit Eddie in the left leg. He fell
up against the dresser, shattering the mirror before he crashed to
the wooden floor screaming in pain.
Another officer ran up and knelt down before Eddie as he lay crumbled
on the floor and shoved a search warrant in his face. “Sergeant
Young of the Granite City Police Department—search warrant you
son-of-a-bitch! Get paramedics here for this guy A-S-A-P!” the
aging sergeant ordered. “Was it worth it, son?” he asked
as he checked Eddie’s wound.
“You don’t know my struggle, man. I couldn’t be
happier, mutherfucka,” Eddie hissed as he clutched his wounded
leg. “Where my people?” he asked as officers began
searching the entirety of the home.
Back outside the house, Jay-D, Dooney and Malik were kneeling in the
grass on the front lawn while a German shepherd sniffed the interior
of Eddie’s Tahoe. “Ain’t shit in there, bitches!”
Jay-D yelled.
“Yo, man! We was just listening to some music! What’s all
this harassment and shit?” Dooney questioned.
“Found twenty kilograms inside the house! Tip paid off!”
an officer yelled aloud.
“You wanna keep talkin’?” the officer asked through
a smile as she pulled her K-9 from the interior of the jeep.
Jay-D looked up at the officer and uttered one word, “Lawyer,”
he said calmly before he spat in the grass.
“Lawyer,” Malik said.
“Lawyer,” Dooney followed as the three invoked their
right to remain silent.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
PREPLANNING
“And no one said a thing after the bust?” Mendoza asked
Doss as the two walked through a large Recreational Vehicle sales lot
in Bloomington, Indiana, a week after the bust down in Granite City.
“Nobody talked. The charges against J-Day, Dooney and Malik
were dropped because none of the officers can verify that they were
in the home and they denied knowing anything under questioning.”
“What about our guy Eddie?” Mendoza asked as he paused in
front of a 2006 Challenger RV priced at $550,000 dollars.
Doss shook his head as he eyed Mendoza. “It’s not looking
good for Eddie. He’s gonna have to take the rap and he
understands that. He was busted with twenty kilograms. Finland is
working his case since he was busted on the Illinois side of the
border. He tried to get Eddie a bail, but with that amount cocaine?”
“The judge viewed him as a flight risk,” Mendoza answered
as he opened the door on the white and tan RV and peeked inside the
vehicle.
“Finland said this sting wasn’t done with the best of
precision. The officers acted on a tip, but they have our guy in
possession of the cocaine and he’s been charged with intent to
distribute, so it’s serious business.”
“Someone has dropped a dime on us, Doss.”
“There’s no doubt about that. The only question is who is
behind it.”
“Could be somebody in the neighborhood where the stash house
was located, or it could be someone close to home.” Mendoza
said as he climbed inside the RV and sat in the driver’s seat.
“This is a really nice machine.”
“You think one of our guys is behind this?” Doss asked as
he climbed the stairs and entered the luxurious RV and looked around
impressed.
“I don’t know yet,” Mendoza replied. “Coulda
been anybody to be honest. We just don’t know.”
“The only thing good about this situation, if anything good can
be said about it, is the fact that the feds aren’t involved.
Eddie is facing state charges, but he can still get up to twenty
years.”
“It is a good thing, il mio amico. Had the federal authorities
gotten involved they would’ve been so deep into this thing of
ours it would’ve all come crashing down. With that aside, since
we know the feds aren’t on our backs, sometimes the best thing
to do during a storm is to get right out there and stand in the
middle of the shit and take a look around. You can better understand
what you’re up against.”
“But you can also get your ass blown away.”
“Depends on the storm, sometimes it looks worse than what it
really it is.” Mendoza said as he got up and walked through the
RV, which had a fully equipped kitchen, a living room, two king-sized
beds, a bath and four 17” LCD TV screens scattered about.