Under Abnormal Conditions (21 page)

With that, Detective Williams stood up,
removed a card from his pocket and began reading. “You have the
right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say
can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the
right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be
appointed to you.”

As Williams was reading me my rights, Stone
was handcuffing me.

“Now can I call a lawyer?” I asked, trying
desperately to contain my fear. My words seemed to go unnoticed as
they escorted me out of the interrogation room. How had it come
that far? In a matter of hours, I had gone from sheer ecstasy to a
living hell.

The detectives passed me off to a guard that
led me down a dark, dank hallway. He paused before we came to a set
of stairs. “Watch your step,” he said. With my hands behind my
back, he rammed me into the wall with every step we took. By the
time we reached the end of the stairwell, the headache I started my
day with spread over my entire body.

At the top of the stairs was a wooden bench.
I tried to sit, but he tightened his grip on the handcuffs. Pain
shot from my hands to my shoulders and down my back.

“I don’t think so, Leroy. You ain’t going be
here long enough to rest.” He pounded on the large metal door next
to the bench and yelled, “Got one coming in!”

A loud buzzer sounded, and the large door
clanked open and he pushed me through. On the left side of the room
were the prison cells. The five of them looked to be empty. On the
right side was a desk with a skinny officer sitting behind it with
his feet propped up. Next to him was another long wooden bench.

“This here is that boy that killed his boss
last night. Caved his head right in.”

The skinny officer was older. He was graying
around the temples and his nose was long and angular. He stood up
and looked hard at me. He seemed to recognize me.

“You know this boy, Jimmy?” said the fat
one.

“I don’t know. He looks familiar.”

“What you say, boy? You know Officer
Jimmy?”

I didn’t bother looking up. He grabbed me by
my chin and forced me to look at him. “I asked you a question.
Answer me!” He released my chin and hit me a hard right to my ribs.
I doubled over to my knees with pain.

“No, no, leave him alone. I thought I knew
him, but I guess I was wrong.”

“You going soft, Jimmy? You might as well
bring this boy home to your daughter.”

The disrespect didn’t even faze me. I was
nothing more than a murdering nigger to them anyway.

“Grow up, Cecil. I’ve got him now.”

Cecil shrugged and walked out of the room.
The door clanked shut loudly behind him. Jimmy walked around behind
me and helped me up. He unlocked the handcuffs, started frisking
me, and asked, “Are you sure I don’t know you?”

“No, sir,” I answered, never looking directly
at him.

He walked around to his desk and took out a
large manila envelope. “Empty out your pockets and put everything
in here.”

As I removed the items from my pocket, he
catalogued each one.“In the morning, they’ll transfer you to the
parish prison,” he said with a deep southern drawl that I didn’t
notice before.

He threw a dark blue jumpsuit at me and
walked me over to the cell at the very end.

“Put that on.”

I walked inside. The cell was about six by
nine feet. A small cot was on the right side and a dirty metal
toilet was on the back wall.

I had never gone through anything like that
before. How could I clear my name if I was in jail? The only
question I could ask was, who would want to set me up?

“Let me know when you change, and I’ll come
get your clothes.”

“What about my phone call?” I asked before he
could leave me.

“You ready now?”

“Yeah.”

My only concern was getting out. Sara
probably didn’t want to see me. Trey and Alex were the only friends
I had left. I prayed one of them was home. He shackled my feet and
led me to a tiny office at the front on the corridor.

“You’ve got five minutes,” he said, closing
the door. I could see his shadow through the frosted glass.

Alex’s phone rang and rang, but he never
answered. I tried Trey’s house next, but the result was the same.
The report about Phil’s murder was probably already on the news, so
if I had to guess, they were probably together looking for me.

“You about done in there,” he shouted from
the other side of the door.

“Just another minute.” I returned.

In desperation, I dialed Joey’s number and
prayed she would answer. After almost ten rings, she finally
did.

“Hello,” she breathlessly answered.

“Joey, this is Michael.”

“Where have you been? Nobody heard from you
since the funeral.”

“Phil’s dead, and I’m in jail.”

“What! Jail? You didn’t-”

“No, I didn’t, but they think I did. I need a
favor. Can I count on you?” I asked with hope.

“Yeah . . . sure. What do you need?”

“Get in touch with Trey and get him to call
the station and find out how much my bail is. Then come down and
get me out of here. If you can’t get in touch with him, then I’ve
got some money at home.”

“What if it’s not enough?”

“There will be,” I realized how it sounded
after I said it. “I know what you’re thinking but the money didn’t
come from the robbery. I got it through my cousin.”

“Well Ok, that was my next question. Do I
need to bring your cousin with me?”

“No. I don’t even know if he is still there.
Besides that, I trust you. You’ve been a friend to me since day
one. I promise I can explain everything.”

“Time’s up,” the officer said as he walked
back in the room.

“Look, I’ve got to go. Don’t let me
down.”

She told me not to worry, but that was like
telling a turkey not to worry on the last Thursday in November. As
he led me back to my cell, questions filled my head. Who would want
to set me up? I knew my prints could have been on the car, but the
murder weapon?

Chapter 30

I’ll never forget the sound the cell door
made when it closed. The sound of metal hitting metal followed by a
loud click haunted me throughout the night. The cell was a lot
smaller than I thought it would be. There was barely enough room to
walk around without bumping into either the toilet or the bed.

I had been locked up for maybe three or four
hours when Officer Jimmy tapped on the bars to get my attention and
said, “Drake, you got a visitor.”

I hoped it was Joey and Trey with the bail
money. It wasn’t. The dark figure that approached could have easily
passed for death, minus the sickle. It was Detective Williams.

The officer unlocked the door and the
detective stepped inside. Him standing over me made the cell seem
even smaller.

“You got anything you need to tell me?” he
asked.

“Besides the fact I didn’t do it?”

“It’s over now. Let it go. I can still talk
to the DA and bump it down to Murder two or even Manslaughter, but
that depends on you.”

“How can it depend on me? I didn’t do it. I’m
not going to tell you I did it because I’m innocent.”

“I can help you, Michael, but I need to know
what happened with Sherry Allen.”

Ignoring his statement, I asked my own
question, “Just how long do you plan on holding me here?”

“Tomorrow morning you’ll be transported to
the Parish Prison, and you’ll wait there until you are ready for
your trial.”

“Trial! You know I didn’t murder him!”

“You’re being charged with two counts of 1st
degree murder and 1st degree armed robbery, so you better had used
that phone call on a lawyer.”

“I didn’t do it!”

“Alright, it’s just you and me now. I wasn’t
lying before. I know a lot about you. I grew up in a house just
like yours. My father was a minister. We didn’t catch any slack.
That was what we needed though. Look, what I’m trying to say is
don’t confess for me or anyone else. You know what’s in your heart.
God can’t bless you or forgive you, if you don’t admit it to Him.
You understand that?

“I understand. You’re right, but I’m not
going to admit to something I didn’t do. I didn’t do it.

Williams knelt down and got directly in my
face. His bad breath smelled of stale coffee and cigarettes. As
horrible as it was, it was still better than the smell that came
from the toilet.

“I don’t care,” he whispered. “I was trying
to help you clear your soul. I lost mine a long time ago. I work
robbery-homicide. My job is to clear cases. An arrest has been
made, and this case is closed. If you didn’t do it . . . tell me
who did.”

As much as I wanted to answer him, I couldn’t
and he knew it. He backed away from me and walked over to the front
of the cell, and called for the guard to release him. He left, and
I was alone - alone in my new home. I couldn’t find the real
killer, if I was locked up. If I didn’t find him, at best I would
be locked up for the rest of my life. At worst, I would be dead as
well.

I started to replay everything that had
happened since Monday. Besides the fact there were three murders
within forty-eight hours, and they all seemed connected to me,
everything else seemed normal.

Normal, except for the phone calls. Two days
after the phone calls started, my life began to fall apart. Was
that a piece of the puzzle or just a product of my own
paranoia?

“I agree wit your friend. You don’t need no
lawyer, you need Jesus,” I heard from the cell next to me.

“What?”

“I hope you ain’t puttin’ your faith in some
lawyer, or them cops. A cop is the reason I’m in here now,” the
gravelly voice said.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Some cop was sleepin’ with my wife. He got
too rough wit her and killed her. I got convicted for it. That was
thirty-five years ago.”

I didn’t want to believe it, but I didn’t
know what else to think. What if Williams or Stone did have
something to do with it? If they had, I’d never see the light of
day again.

“Here,” the old timer said as he passed me a
cigarette through the front of the cell.

“Thanks but, I don’t smoke,” I said
gratefully.”

“Take it anyway. Ya may wanna start or you
can trade for sumpin’ else later. Dat’s the only money you got in
here.”

I walked up to the front of the cell, where I
saw his frail black hand. You could tell a lot about a man from his
hands, and from the looks of that man’s hands, he had seen a hard
time in prison. Thin veins covered his fragile arm like a heavily
traveled road map. I took the cigarette and thanked him.

“Name’s Eugene, but you can call me
Bishop.”

“Bishop. How did you get a name like
that?”

“My name is Eugene Jenkins, but I’ve been
born again, since I been in prison. I just try to show you young
brothers the right way, if you do get a second chance.”

At least I didn’t get stuck next to some
ax-murderer. Bishop was good company, and that was what I needed.
If I had been left alone in that cell I don’t know what I would
have done. We talked the entire night. I couldn’t sleep, and he was
only too happy to listen. He shared his cigarettes with me, and I
shared my life story with him. I didn’t think he could help, but I
knew just talking about it would put things in perspective for me
and maybe into a new light. He eventually told me he was going to
be transferred.

“I don’t know if they ever going to cut me
loose, but I can't worry ‘bout that. It’s in the Lord’s hands. I
know you know what I mean.”

“I think so, but how can you just sit there
while the man that murdered your wife is still out there?”

“I wasn’t always like this. When I first went
to Angola, I was a twenty-five year old knucklehead wit more guts
than good sense.”

“Then you found God?” I asked.

“Better than that. He found me, and I have
never been the same. Put your faith in God, Son. Let him order your
steps, and you be all right.”

He comforted me in the way I imagined that my
grandfather would. Wisdom like that was timeless.

Around eight o’clock the guard brought us
what appeared to be supper. In the tin platter, the only thing I
recognized was the burned piece of toast.

“Do you know what this is?” I asked my new
old friend.

“The green, lumpy stuff or the gray, chewy
stuff?”

“Never mind. Do you want mine?”

He declined, and I tried to rest on my cot.
Morning came quicker than I could have imagined. At the crack of
dawn, the guard came down to take me away. As I was leaving, Bishop
told me, “Jesus is the light of the world. You follow Jesus, and
you’ll be all right. Follow the light.”

I tried to turn and see my new jailhouse
friend, but the guard rushed me away before I could get a look at
him.

He led me down a dark corridor. The only
thought on my mind was someone would be waiting at the end of it,
ready to slit my throat. We finally came to the end of the hallway,
where there was a large door. The guard unlocked it and forced me
through it.

Standing there with Detective Williams was my
last hope. Wearing a suit that cost more than I made last year
stood David Higgenbottom, II: Trey’s father. He wore a dark blue
suit with a white shirt and paisley tie. His short hair and
clean-shaven face gave the fifty-year-old a youthful appearance. He
was there with Trey and Joey. I felt ashamed and embarrassed, but
grateful. They were my closest friends, and I hated they had to see
me like that.

“Thank you officer. I’ll take it from here,”
Mr. Higgenbottom said. Williams nodded at the guard, he uncuffed me
and they left the room.

“As it stands right now, the DA was ready to
indict, and it looks like they had a pretty good case.”