A Gangster's Girl (13 page)

I couldn't speak. I just covered my mouth. My heart was pounding profusely.

“Ceazia, what the hell is going on, girl? Talk to me,” Meikell said as she tried to shake some sense into me.

I picked up the paper and read the headline aloud, “Body Found Hanging from Chesapeake Bay Bridge.”

“West Indian native identified as Donovan Daniels was brutally murdered,” I continued. “The body was found missing arms, and the genitals were also removed. This is one of the most brutal murders in this area in the past decade.”

Mickie had no knowledge of the incident between Donovan and me, and I was glad that I hadn't shared our escapade with anyone.

“That's Carmin's friend, right?” Mickie had no idea.

“Yeah, girl. It's crazy how you can be here one day and gone the next,” I responded.

“I know. Well, on that note, I think I better run and try to get some more of Snake's dick, because who knows when it may be my time to go.”

“Mickie! That's a horrible thing to say.”

“Whatever, girl. I'm out.” She gave me a big hug and left. I watched as she jumped into her car and pulled out of the driveway. Mickie still had her promiscuous ways, but she had certainly come a long way.

The caller ID read Carmin Sorano.

“Hey, Carm.”

“Did you read the paper?” she asked, agitated.

“Yeah, isn't that sad?”

“Sad?” Carmin was confused by my response. “This is terrible. You don't even seem worried.”

“Why should I be worried?” I asked. I thought that maybe Carmin was insinuating the Jamaican Mafia would be after me or something.

“C, how much of the article did you read?”

Now Carmin was starting to scare me.

“I read the part about his death. Did I miss something?”

“Obviously, Ceazia. You're wanted.”

“What?” I could feel the tears beginning to well up in my eyes.

“If you had read the whole thing you'd know it says he was last seen in front of a local nightclub with you. They described you from head to toe and even your car. They have a witness saying they heard you telling him you hated him and that he was going to die. You're the lead suspect. What are you going to do, girl?”

“I didn't do it. Carm, you know I'm not capable of doing such a thing. How did I get myself into this? I have to go.”

I hung up the phone and began to pace back and forth.
What in the hell is going on? What did Vegas do? I can't go to jail, Lord
.

The words “Lord, help me” almost escaped my lips, but I quickly remembered the evil trick He played on me by taking my twins. Their death was still heavy on my heart and I had not been to church since.
He's not in my corner. No need to call on Him.

As time crept by, I contemplated what I should do. I knew I didn't have much time before the detectives would show up at my front door asking questions, or worse, taking me into custody. I thought about calling my mother, but I didn't want to worry her. Vegas was my only hope.

Why the fuck isn't Vegas calling
? I wondered as I watched the seconds tick on the grandfather clock. Not able to wait any longer, I got dressed and headed to the state penitentiary.

“Visit for Laymont Jackson!” the butch looking female yelled. Once Vegas entered the visiting room, I walked right up to him, firing questions.

“What the hell is going on, Vegas? I'm wanted for murder. I don't know what to do. I can't—”

Vegas put his finger to my mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he said, hushing me up. He took my hand and led me to the broom closet. Inside, he started to kiss me passionately. My heart began to beat uncontrollably.

Oh shit, we can't have sex. I may still be infected with gonorrhea. I haven't finished the antibiotics yet
.
What in the heIl am I going to do
? As a distraction, I began to cry.

“Sit down and listen to me. You don't need to worry. Go ahead and speak with them. You didn't do it, so you know nothing,” Vegas said, trying to offer comfort.

“But what if they don't believe me, Vegas?”

“Baby, didn't I say I will always protect you?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, listen to me and do as I say.”

Vegas opened the door and kissed me on the lips before walking away.

“Catch my heart,” he said before walking through the prison door and back to his life behind the prison walls.

“I love you,” I responded before leaving.

That visit was really odd
, I thought as headed out the door and toward my car.

“Bye,” the deputy said with a smirk on her face. That was also odd, because normally that same bitch would have been giving me a harder time. Now more than ever I considered the possibility that her and Vegas were fucking. It was just too much of a coincidence. Vegas did not push me to have sex, he cut the visit short, and then that bitch says goodbye to me on my way out.

Maybe Vegas did give me gonorrhea,
I began to think
. If Vegas gave me gonorrhea, then that would mean that Donovan was innocent. That would also mean that he was killed for no reason. It's all my fault. If I would have never accused him of raping me he would have never come to Virginia and he would still be alive. What have I done?

I cried the entire way home as I thought about the terrible mistake I might have made.

As I approached the house, I could see police cars surrounding the block. I knew exactly why they were there. They had finally caught up with me. I was so exhausted and drained at this point that I didn't even run. Besides, where would I run? I had been struggling for the past few years and was finally tired of fighting, so just as Vegas did the night of his arrest, I surrendered peacefully. I stepped out of the car, hands in the air and legs spread apart. The officers quickly ran over and patted me down. Then, they quickly placed the cuffs on me as they read me my rights. Once they explained that I had been charged with the murder of Donovan Daniels, I was placed in a car and rushed off to the police station.

Once we reached the station I was immediately placed in an interrogation room. The process was long and draining. The detectives asked me the same questions repeatedly.

“Where were you on the night of the murder of Donovan Daniels? How did you know Donovan Daniels? How long were you acquainted with Donovan Daniels? How were you all acquainted?”

They went on and on, question after question. They knew someone else must have been involved, so they offered me numerous plea bargains if I would reveal that person. Unfortunately, I honestly didn't have any information I could share with them. The detectives had evidence they wouldn't reveal that indicated I was not the actual killer, so they reduced my charge to accessory to murder. Because I didn't give them the name of the actual killer, they thought I was trying to protect someone, and that's how I was stuck with no bond. My hearing followed shortly after my arrest. Things were going downhill fast.

The court was silent as the twelve men and women walked in and seated themselves. I looked at my girls and gave a sigh.

This is it,
I thought as the reality sunk in. It had been two long weeks of court sessions but it only took two hours for deliberation.

“Please stand for the verdict,” the judge said in a cold voice. The bailiff brought over a small piece of paper that held my destiny.

“We the people find Ceazia Devereaux guilty as an accessory to the murder of Donovan Daniels,” the judge read aloud. “Sentencing is as follows,” he continued. “Ten years, two of which will be served in the state penitentiary, then released into the state's women's recovery program for the remainder of the sentence.”

Bam!
The judged banged his gavel.

“Court is adjourned,” were the final words I heard before the judge rose from his chair and exited the courtroom. The deputy walked over and slapped the handcuffs on my wrists. I ached with pain as the metal squeezed against my bones. I looked back at all my family and friends who had come to support me.

“Noooooo, don't take my baby! Nooooooo!” my mother screamed hysterically.

Her cry sent a piercing pain to my heart. I was all she had and now I was being taken away from her. The guilt I felt was almost unbearable. My father grabbed her as she collapsed to the ground. I couldn't take it any longer. I stopped and looked at her.

“I'm sorry, Momma . . . I'm sorry,” I spoke as tears rolled from my eyes.

Who's protecting me now? Where is Vegas? I thought he would always protect me,
I kept asking myself over and over again as I was escorted from the courtroom.

The Virginia State Penitentiary for Women was no place for a prissy little Virginia Beach girl like myself, and they made sure I was aware of it. Everyone hated me, from the deputies to the inmates. I had to stand my ground and make a name for myself, and I did just that. It's just unfortunate that it was a deputy who had to feel the pain of my pent up aggressions.

As I was in line getting breakfast, a deputy approached me.

“Identity yourself, inmate!” she yelled in my ear, demanding I read off my inmate number. Unfortunately, memorizing a six-digit identification number was not a priority of mine, so I didn't know it.

“My name is Devereaux . . . Ceazia Devereaux,” I responded, avoiding eye contact.

“Identify yourself, inmate!” she yelled again.

At that point, I knew she was not going to leave me alone until I gave her the response she wanted. Therefore, to make her happy, I decided to look at my wristband and read the number off to her. Just as I lifted my wrist to read the numbers, she hit my arm with her baton. Without thinking, I jumped in her face.

“What the fuck are you thinking, bitch?”

That's when I recognized who she was. It was the deputy from the penitentiary where Vegas was being held.

“Sooo, I finally got a response out of you?” she said with a mischievous grin.

“Look, I don't know what it is you have against me, but I don't want any problems,” I tried explaining. Unfortunately, she wasn't trying to hear it.

“Yeah, once I heard Vegas' little princess was an inmate here, I put in a request to pay you a little visit. I intend on making your stay here a living hell.”

The more and more she spoke, the more and more that bitch was pissing me off, but I tried to remain calm.

“Okay, deputy. May I continue to get my breakfast now?” I responded, trying to end the conversation. I figured being passive was my best approach to the situation.

“Sure, you may leave, but before you go, think I oughtta tell you something.”

“And that is?”

“Vegas likes it when I bounce on his dick while he sits in the chair too. Now catch
my
heart, bitch.”

I didn't give her a chance to say anything more. Again, I reacted on impulse.

I lifted my tray and hit her across her face. I completely blacked out as I continued to hit her over and over and over again with the metal tray. Other deputies and correctional officers rushed over within seconds. They grabbed me and dragged me straight to solitary confinement.

The cell was lonely and cold. I sat in my new home, depressed.

Vegas did have sex with her. He actually fucked her
. I repeated those words in my head. I never thought the day would come when Vegas would cheat on me. I always thought he loved me with all his heart. Now I knew he was the one who had given me gonorrhea. It was because of his deceit and lies that Donovan was dead and I was in prison.

The more I sat alone in that cell, the more the realization set in. There was no longer a phone, cable TV, Hypnotic Poison perfume, or even Prissy curled up beside me in bed. For days, I sat without food or water, hoping that I would die without anyone even noticing. The New Year was two days away and I planned to pass into a new life just as midnight rolled in. I figured that seven days of forced starvation would put me right at the dying point. I also had a suicide drink that one of the inmates slipped me, just in case.

I spent half an hour writing a letter to my loved ones as the final hours before midnight quickly approached.

I didn't even bother to sign the bottom. There were five minutes left until midnight and I could feel the energy leaving my body. In five minutes, I would drink the suicide concoction. I decided to pray. Even though I was tired of life, I still wanted to be welcomed in the gates of Heaven.

I held the drink and prepared to take my final breath. Suddenly, my body became numb. I tried to lift my arms to swallow the suicide drink, but I was unable to move. Tears began to roll down my face.

I could faintly hear the sound of fireworks outside my window. I opened my eyes and watched from my cell window. From a distance I watched. I knew that people were dancing, yelling, and hugging in the city streets afar. It was now 2003 and I was still here. I was still alive by the will of God. Vegas did not protect me, my mother did not protect me, and not even my friends could protect me. My body was physically restrained, but my spirit was now free. “Thank you, Father, for rescuing me,” I whispered softly as I shredded my suicide letter.