Criminal Minded (24 page)

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Authors: Tracy Brown

BOOK: Criminal Minded
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The prosecutor’s office was really pissed then. Their star witness disappeared into thin air, I walked, and their case was thrown out of court. They had a big vendetta against me, and they began to dig for any piece of information that could send me away for life. I noticed them following me in unmarked cars, figured they were tappin’ my phone. It got to the point where nothing they did surprised me. I got used to their bullshit and started takin’ precautions to keep my comings and goings from being detected. Olivia had given birth to my daughter in June, and I was so happy to be with my family that I didn’t want to be anywhere else but with them.
I was in my car one day listening to Mindy Milford, the deejay on 111.9 WQLF who gossiped about celebrities and gave advice. To my surprise, she was talkin’ about Lamin and Shootin’ Crooks.
“Alright, folks. It looks like this could be the end of Lamin
Michaels’ reign as top dog in the music video industry. Lamin has been up and coming for the past few years and his clients have been a who’s who of the industry. His wedding was featured in
Ebony
magazine when he married Dream Biggs, the A&R at Sony who represents all the big hip-hop and R&B acts. Well, Dream was a
freak
before she settled down with Lamin, honey. One of my trusted sources tells me that girlfriend was giving head to anyone that could take her to the top of the music industry. She has apparently settled down since marrying Lamin and giving birth to Lamin’s son. But there’s more! Here’s the 411, everybody. My sources tell me that Lamin Michaels was once a drug kingpin—a Fat Cat of sorts, ladies and gentleman. And his partner in crime was none other than Zion Williams. For those of you who don’t know, Zion is the drug kingpin whose case was recently thrown out of court when witnesses began disappearing. Mmmm hmmm!!! Scandalous, ain’t it? Well the police insist that, not only is Lamin Michaels a good friend of Zion Williams, but that they used the money they got moving drugs state to state to start Shootin’ Crooks. Shut up! Could it be that Dream Biggs is married to a common criminal? A former block hugger? Phone in and tell me what you think about this one. The lines are open and the fax machine is hot! I’m Mindy Milford and this is 111.9 WQLF.”
I turned the radio off and drove home to my two baby girls.
I remember the day Lamin became a father. We all went to the hospital to see the baby, and I was excited as we all celebrated the arrival of Lamin’s firstborn. I was so happy for my boy. “Damn, La! You’re a father now. How’s it feel?”
Lamin smiled, showin’ all his teeth. “Shit feels good, Curtis. Shit feels good.” He looked around the waiting room. “Where’s Zion?”
I wanted to say, “Fuck Zion!” I couldn’t believe Lamin was surrounded by his family and he was still askin’ about that nigga. I was
still upset that the muthafucka hit me, and I never got the chance to beat his ass. I was sick of him comin’ around actin’ like he belonged where he didn’t belong. And I was even more sick of my cousin actin’ like Zion was the only one that mattered.
At that point, I went to the nursery, looked at the baby, said congratulations, and I bounced. I didn’t want to be nobody’s afterthought. I went back to my real family. The streets.
I sat on the couch beside Dream watching her feed my son, and it was so bittersweet. Deep down, I wished Lucky was the one holding my child in her arms. But Lucky was gone. And I did feel love for Dream—especially after watching her give birth to Jordan. So I smiled proudly, looking at my family, and opened up the
Daily News.
I sipped my coffee and flipped through the pages of depressing news—robberies, rapes, murders, assaults, war … and then I saw it.
Right there in the entertainment section was a photo of me and Zion coming out of the Shootin’ Crooks offices. The caption caught my eye.
Lamin Michaels exiting the offices of Shootin’ Crooks Productions with Zion Williams, who was accused of murder. Speculation that Williams and Michaels used drug money to help Williams start the music production company Shootin’ Crooks has caught the attention of the FBI, who are investigating Williams in connection with a corruption scandal involving murder, extortion, and money laundering.
I almost spit out my coffee. I knew the DA’s office had a score to settle with Zion, but damn! Extortion and money laundering? That shit was crazy. I looked at my wife and newborn son. I had a lot at stake. Zion was my best friend. I came up out the streets with his help. But I’d be damned if he was gonna fuck it all up for me now.
I told Lamin to steer clear of Zion. I told him that playing Zion too close could cost him his company. And finally Lamin was beginning to listen to reason and see things my way. So we started kickin’ it more often and before you knew it, we were tight like back in the day. It was like old times again.
am I my brother’s keeper?
Lamin wouldn’t take my calls. I saw the picture in the paper,
saw the headlines and all the gossip. Every day Mindy Milford sat up at WQLF and told her listeners that Shootin’ Crooks was under investigation, Lamin was about to fall from grace, and that I had a shady past. I thought it would be smart to stay away from the offices so that the gossip would die down some. I kept tryin’ to call Lamin, but he was never available. So I went up to his office one Wednesday and walked past his secretary, Sara. She stopped me as I headed to Lamin’s office.
“Zion, let me call him and tell him you’re here.”
I looked at her like she was crazy. “Since when you gotta tell him I’m here, Sara. I’ve been walkin’ past you for years without so much as a glance from you …”
“Zion, you shouldn’t be up here.” I turned around and saw Lamin. The nigga I grew up with, traveled out of state with, fucked girls with, broke bread with. And he was tellin’ me that I didn’t belong there.
“Why?” I had to hear his reason for tellin’ me some shit like that. “Why shouldn’t I be here, La?”
He walked over to Sara’s desk, opened the top drawer, and pulled out one newspaper clipping after another. Each one was an article about me—a blind item in the
Post
, the picture of us leaving Lamin’s office building in the
Daily News
, the article that ran on the day my case was thrown out, another article about Keesha’s family demanding justice for their missing daughter.
“
That’s
why you shouldn’t be here,” he said. “You got me lookin’ like I’m involved in all kinds of shit, Zion. I could lose my company over this!”
I stood there speechless and just looked at my friend. I understood his position. I felt bad about all the shit that was happenin’. But I couldn’t believe that when I needed him most, Lamin was turnin’ his back on me. I had the feds investigating me for charges I didn’t even fully understand. And now the man I thought was my best friend was tellin’ me that I didn’t belong in his circle anymore.
“Oh, it’s like that now, Lamin?”
“It’s like that, Zion! I can’t afford to lose my business, lose my family, over some bullshit like this. You wanna run the streets, that’s fine. But you can’t run the block and have muthafuckas thinkin’ you runnin’ Shootin’ Crooks, too. It don’t work like that. I told you that shit a long time ago. I told you years ago to do the right thing. I ain’t tryin’ to shit on you …”
“That’s exactly what you’re doin’—”
“Nah, Zion. If that’s how you wanna take it, then nigga, I can’t make you see it different. But all I’m tryin’ to say is that right now, this ain’t the place for you, bro.”
I smirked. I was hurt, but too much of a man to let him know just how much. “Alright, Lamin. It’s all good. Peace.” I walked away, with all of Lamin’s staff staring at me with pity in their eyes. But the eyes of my friend held no pity. They were unfamiliar, and as the elevator made its descent, I couldn’t believe Lamin was the man I used to know so well.
Fuck that. I didn’t have time to worry about Zion’s wounded pride. I didn’t give a fuck if he was mad. The way I saw it, Zion was bein’ selfish. How the hell could he think it was okay to come to my office after seein’ our names splashed across headlines in just about every major newspaper in New York? I felt that he was being careless. The
nigga was slippin’ and he was takin’ me down with him. I couldn’t risk my livelihood for somebody who was too stubborn to get the fuck out the streets before it was too late. I had to start thinkin’ about me. And my son. It was all about my family now. That was somethin’ Zion should have understood.
Dream, who used to be so calm and so understanding, was naggin’ the shit out of me every day about the gossip. “Mindy Milford was on her show today saying …” I was sick of hearin’ her mouth every night when I came home. So I stopped comin’ home on time. Started spendin’ my evenings in the clubs or with industry hos. Them bitches didn’t nag me. They didn’t care about what the fuck Mindy Milford said. I would come home late, when I knew Dream was asleep, and just watch Jordan sleep. He was the only reason I stayed in that marriage.
To make matters worse, my moms’ health was getting worse and worse. She had to have a nurse full time now. Olivia moved Grandma and my mother into the Brooklyn brownstone and let them set it up for themselves. She and the baby were living with Zion, anyway. Grandma sold her house. It was too full of memories of when Papa was alive, and I think she was happy to move. Uncle Eli was pissed because he had to find a place of his own for the first time in his life. I didn’t feel sorry for him either. A grown-ass man still livin’ with his mama. He found some dumb broad to lay up with and moved in with her. I knew Uncle Eli would never change, but at least he was no longer Grandma’s problem. She had enough heartbreak to deal with. Grandma prayed all the time as she watched her daughter die. I paid for a live-in nurse and her and Grandma looked after my mother. I knew my mother’s days were numbered.
I felt scattered. Everything was fallin’ apart. Quickly. Things were out of control on every front. My moms was leavin’, and I never got the chance to really know her. Now that I had the chance to reconcile with her, it was hard for me to do it since she looked like a ghost. I didn’t want to see my mother like that. I wanted to remember her the way she was. I knew she needed her son. But I couldn’t find the
strength to be there for her because I was empty. I was already grieving. Papa was gone. Grandma was grievin’. Zion was slippin’. Plus all of a sudden, I was a father and a husband and still a little scared of love. I started drinkin’.
And then there was Curtis.
Curtis was a hard one to read sometimes. On one hand, we grew up spendin’ the night at each other’s house countless times. Sleepin’ head to foot in the bed. Curtis was family. But when he went to jail, we came to a fork in the road. He went one way—against his will—while I went the other. And then he came home, and I was caked up; Zion was at my side. Lookin’ at it now I can see how it all went wrong. Maybe to Curtis, Zion was a threat to his position. Curtis wanted to be the one helpin’ me get money. But I went legit. Curtis
and
Zion chose to get their dough the hard way. I wasn’t goin’ that way anymore. I was doin’ some new shit. I knew that my cousin and I had drifted apart somewhat over the years. But I never doubted him havin’ my back if I needed him.
As far as my feelings for Zion, he would always be my brother. I appreciated his loyalty to me over time. We built an empire together and when I got hurt, he carried the torch. Never shorted my sister, never let nothin’ happen to her. And now he was the father of her child. I had love for the nigga on the strength of all that. But the negative publicity he was receiving was the last thing I needed. I was on the edge of my seat to see how the whole situation played out. I started drinkin’ even more heavily. Hennessy was my best friend. Me and my bottle and my .45 Magnum.
I felt myself on the edge, and I had no place to turn. Dream got sick of me being so distant. So half the time the baby was with the nanny while Dream was out networking. Suddenly, the shoe was on the other foot, and Dream was coming home late, while I sat home at night. So I called Lucky on one such evening. I took a shot in the dark and dialed her number. It was late on a Friday night. Her phone rang seven times before she answered.
“Hello?”
“Lucky, it’s me.”
She was quiet for a long time. “Why are you calling me, Lamin?” I could still hear the love in her voice.
“Wassup, ma? I was just thinkin’ about you, that’s all.”
She laughed. “At one in the morning? Where’s your wife and kid?”
I detected a hint of sarcasm. “I miss you, Lucky.”
“Lamin …”
“Can I come over?” I knew I might get shot down, but I wanted to see her.
“No. Lamin, I’m not going that route again. We played out our hand. The game’s over.”
“I just wanna talk to you, that’s all. Can’t I have a conversation wit’ a old friend? I got some shit on my mind.”
“Nah. I moved on, Lamin. It’s one in the morning. If you wanna talk to me, call me in the daytime …”
“What? Now I gotta make an appointment to talk to you? It’s like that, Lucky?”
She sucked her teeth. “Lamin, good night.”
That hit me hard. I loved Lucky. She was the one I was supposed to ride off into the sunset with.
“Lucky—”
“Goodnight, Lamin.”
All I heard after that was the dial tone. I hung up and had another talk with Hennessy to nurse my wounded pride.
1999
Olivia came to Shaolin so that me and my mother could see her baby. Her daughter was so pretty. And she really lived up to her name—Adiva. She was a gorgeous little brown beauty just like her mother. Adiva was a year old now and learning to walk. They came in matching outfits; jeans and pink tank tops. It was cute. Olivia was doin’ well
for herself. She was pushin’ a black Pathfinder, and the baby’s pricey stroller said enough. Then I saw the ice drippin’ from her wrist and I knew she was livin’ lavish.
“Wassup, Curtis? You don’t never be in Brooklyn no more.” We were sittin’ on my mother’s porch and I held Adiva on my lap.
“My money is out
here
, baby cousin.” I smiled at her. Olivia was my favorite cousin. Especially since Lamin and I had our distance between us for so long. It wasn’t that I ain’t have love for Lamin. It was our growin’ older that separated us. Now we were men. No more young boys playin’ one on one in the Big Park. The playing fields were different.
Olivia rolled her eyes. “You should find some different money, you know.”
I looked at her like
Are you serious?
I laughed. “I
know
you ain’t talkin’ with all the trips you took for your brother. Plus your man, Zion, is no angel, either. Think about how he got his money—”
I was interrupted by the sound of tires squealin’ and cars screechin’ to a halt in front of the house. Two detective cars from opposite directions stopped right in front of the house and cops were everywhere in a matter of moments. “GET ON THE GROUND! GET DOWN!”
They swarmed the steps and Olivia took her baby. She ran into the house to get my moms as the cops threw me down. I didn’t put up a fight, but they still roughed me up as they handcuffed me and dragged me toward an unmarked car. My mother came out. “Why are you arresting my son?” She was yellin’ and the cops told her they had a warrant. “For what?” She was tight. Olivia yelled after me as the cops drove me away, letting me know that she would follow me to the precinct.
We rode in silence and pulled up in front of the 120th Precinct. They brought me straight past booking and into a chilly room in the back. Nobody told me what I was bein’ charged with. I didn’t say nothin’. Not a word. I sat silent while they questioned me about my
whereabouts for the past few days. They kept insinuating that they knew something. They kept trying to get me to crack. But I knew they ain’t have nothin’. I waited to see what their real reasons were for draggin’ me in there.
“Curtis, you are on your way back to prison, my boy,” one of the pigs said. “We found out some things.” He laid out eight-by-ten glossies of me makin’ drug transactions, close-ups of money exchanging hands between me and my connect. My connect was an undercover cop. I knew I was going back to jail.
“I want to make a phone call.”
“You ain’t makin’ shit, you fucking no good piece of shit!” The detective got so close to me that I could smell his breath, and he spit all in my face as he yelled. I sat handcuffed in the chair, defenseless. He saw the hate in my eyes and he laughed at me. “You fucking criminal! I got you by the balls, Curtis. Now you tell me what the fuck I want to know!”
I thought they wanted me to tell on the rest of my crew. “I don’t snitch, muthafucka!”
He threw another picture down in front of me. To my surprise, it was a picture of Zion.
“I want this motherfucker. And you’re gonna help me get him!”
I was confused. I frowned and shook my head. “I don’t know nothin’ about that nigga,” I said. “We ain’t friends.”
The detective nodded. “I know. That’s why I need your help. We’ve got your ass in a sling, Curtis. You help us, and we’ll help you.”
I grinned, ever so slightly. Funny how the tables had turned.
Me and Aunt Inez sat in the lobby of the 120th Precinct, waiting for Lamin to arrive. He had called his lawyer and they were on their way. No one would tell us anything. Aunt Inez raised hell, and I couldn’t blame her. Nobody knew what her son was being charged with. We
walked outside, got us some coffee at the donut shop a block away. Adiva was asleep in her stroller and I was so grateful she was a peaceful baby. I worried about my cousin.
“Do you think they’ll send him back, Olivia?” Aunt Inez and I leaned on the wall outside the precinct, staring at the New York City skyline. I looked at her, wishing I could tell her something positive.
“I don’t know, Auntie.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t handle it if he went back. I lost Papa. Nadia’s dyin’. I can’t handle Curtis goin’ back to jail. No. He can’t go back.” Her eyes welled up with tears.
I held her hand. “Grandma would tell us to pray.”
She smiled at me. “Yeah, that don’t sound like a bad idea.”
So we did. We prayed over our whole family, especially Curtis. And when we finished praying, Lamin was just arriving. I was so happy to see my brother. I knew that when he was around, everything was always gonna be alright.
We all went inside to await the outcome. The lawyer was escorted inside and we waited. Lamin sat and entertained Adiva. He had her giggling and happy, despite the grim surroundings. Within an hour, Curtis was escorted out from the back. We all stood there, anxious, as Curtis came over.
The lawyer explained to Lamin that the police had picked Curtis up with so much fanfare hoping that they could encourage him to help them with some leads they had in other cases.
“They ain’t got nothin’ on me. They had to let me go,” Curtis said.
My brother looked suspicious, but Aunt Inez looked relieved. “Come on, then. Let’s get out of here before they change their mind,” she said. Then she looked at me and said, “Grandma was right about the power of prayer.”
I smiled and nodded, but I was quietly observing the reactions of Curtis and Lamin. I know my brother. And I know my cousin. So I could tell that Lamin had immediate questions about the whole situation. Curtis, on the other hand, appeared in control and matter-of-fact. “They had to let me go. Them niggas never had nothin’ to begin with.”
To me, it seemed odd that the cops would roll up on him in broad daylight, and they never had a thing. Whatever transpired, I was just glad that my cousin was walking out the precinct doors. Curtis went home with Lamin to lay low for a while. I went home to my family and worried more and more. About everything.

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