After being away from his
neighborhood for more than nine years and finding a career as a Wilmington
Delaware Police Detective, Jamal is lured back to North Philly when a
shoot-out erupts, killing one of his best friends. A Detective, who becomes
familiar with Jamal's past, unravels shocking truths about drugs, dirty
cops, and their role in a drug war that is claiming lives in a North Philly
neighborhood, daily. Jamal is blackmailed and forced into a position to
possibly take down his cousin Samir. Now faced with a matter of kill or be
killed, Jamal must decide whether he will return to his life from the past,
or honor his badge. In this urban fiction sequel, all bets are off and
everyone, including Jamal, is expendable!
1
On an unusually warm day in early
November of 2011, Manny was hanging on the corner of 24th and Oxford
Street with his older brother Kiree and their best friend D-Ball. Manny
had just turned 26 and was making plans to have a big birthday
party at Luxe Lounge in the Old City section of Philadelphia. Times had
been good for Manny and business had been booming for both he and his
brother. They had become large over the years in the hustling game and
were making more money than they could have ever imagined. Manny had
promised his girlfriend Keisha of ten years that he would stop hustling
for the sake of their son Kamir, but jobs were scarce and there was no
way he was going to see his family go without.
The sun was shining
and a warm breeze blew litter and leaves around that had fallen from the
trees. Manny unzipped his hooded sweat-shirt to invite the breeze in to
cool off a bit, not anticipating it to be such a warm day. He looked at
his watch to see what time it was as he had promised Keisha earlier
that he would pick her up from work and they would all go out to dinner.
“It’s nice as shit out here today,” he said to his older brother as he
leaned into the wall of the corner Papi store.
“Yeah, I don’t trust
weather like this. Whenever the sun comes out, niggas get stupid. I
hope I don’t have to fuck anybody up today.” D-Ball said as he peered up
the street.
“Nah, everything has been calm since we made that
truce with Samir. These Young Heads don’t wanna go to war with us let
alone Sa.” Kiree said in response.
“I guess,” Manny replied. “But
you know some Young Head that just scored his first big pay and seen one
too many Paid in Full type movies is going to start feeling himself.”
Kiree chuckled. “Paid in Full,” he mocked. “You’re funny as shit for
that one. How’s my Lil’ Man doing? I ain’t seen my nephew in over a
month. Tell Keisha to make time to stop by.”
“I will. She’s just
been so busy with the gig at Prudential and with my son. But we’ll come
through this weekend.” Manny replied.
“One thing I can say
about Keisha; that girl is a straight rider. She’s been down with you
since she was a young buck in the 9th grade. I never thought y’all
would’ve lasted this long. You need to stop bull shitting and marry that
girl. You know that’s what mommy wants,” Kiree said to his younger
brother.
“Oh trust me, I plan on it. I’m just waiting for
the right moment. Trying to put some plans into motion first, but I’ma
put a ring on her finger real soon,” Manny replied. He looked at a car
that passed by and began to feel uneasy. He could have sworn that he had
just seen the same car ride past them two other times.
“Yeah, ya’ll better. I got some toys for Lil’ Man, too.” Kiree replied.
“Oh that’s what’s up. Aye yo, bro; that dark green Bonneville
that just passed by, I could’ve sworn that it rode through here a couple
of times before already,” Manny said as he looked down the street.
Kiree thought for a moment. “Nah, it’s so many niggas around here
riding in Bonnies. That’s like the North Philly car; that and Crown Vics
and Lesabres. Sometimes you’re too paranoid.”
D-Ball shook his head. “Nah, I peeped that shit, too. They came through three times.”
“Yeah, paranoid my ass,” Manny replied. “Fuck that, I’d rather be a
moving target than a sitting duck, you feel me? I told Keisha I’d bring
her some snacks. Let me grab them real quick and then we’re out.”
“I know that’s the fuck right,” D-Ball replied.
Manny went into the Papi store and grabbed the snacks that his
girlfriend asked for. He stopped at the doorway to look at the cover of
the Daily News and then walked out of the store when it happened. The
same Bonneville sped around the corner and two guys jumped out opening
fire without hesitation. D-Ball dove behind a car while Kiree took two
to the chest and one to the stomach. Manny reached for his gun but was
too slow. He took a shot in his shoulder and scrambled back inside of
the store.
“MANNY!!” Kiree screamed out as blood poured from his mouth.
D-Ball peaked from behind the car that was shielding him and fired
three shots at the gunmen. He missed and cursed himself. He could see
Kiree crumpled on the ground in a fetal position.
Manny pulled his
gun and fired shots out of the store. D-Ball wasn’t the target; the hit
was for Manny and Kiree. Samir wanted them taken out as soon as
possible, so the gunmen moved towards the store not wanting to be
distracted.
“MANNY!” Kiree managed to squeal again.
“KIREE!! KIREE! Hold on baby!” Manny called back to his brother. He
scooted back so he could see who came into the store before they saw
him.
D-Ball was almost in a panic. He knew if he didn’t move fast,
both of his friends would be killed. He pulled his back up pistol from
his pants and tapped them together.
“Fuck this,” he growled. He
wasn’t going out like a nut and swore he wasn’t going alone either. He
jumped up and fired both guns at the gunmen. One turned to fire back and
took a shot to the head. The other gunman ran into the store in part to
hide and in part to finish off Manny. They saw each other at the same
time. Manny fired his gun just as the gunman fired his. He caught two
shots to his chest but got a lucky shot off that hit his target in the
neck. D-Ball ran into the store and shot the gunman in the head,
finishing him off. He then ran over to Manny.
“Manny, are you
good?” D-Ball asked as he knelt beside him trembling. He could hear him
taking shallow breaths. He cursed and looked around. He figured the
owners were hiding in the back and had already called 9-11. The police
could be there any minute and he didn’t want to get caught. “I’m sorry;
Manny…I’m so sorry. I gotta go. Just hold on, homie. I swear I’ma find
out who’s responsible for this shit.” D-Ball ran from the store, jumped
into his car and sped off just as the sounds of sirens were drawing
near.
2
Detective Davidson stopped his car away from the scene.
He was used to the scenery. Almost every other day, some poor, young,
black male was being gunned down on the streets of North Philly. It was
becoming a pattern and he had suspected a turf war was erupting. He
lifted the caution tape and ducked underneath so he could begin his
investigation. Two bodies lay outside covered with a white sheet.
Davidson walked over to the one closest to the Bonneville.
“Who’s the victim?” he asked a uniformed cop that was standing nearby.
“I dunno. He didn’t have any ID on him. But judging by the ski-mask that’s on his face, I’m assuming he was the aggressor.”
“Or an extra for a Batman movie,” Davidson joked to lighten the mood.
He stepped over the body and made his way to the second body by the side
wall of the corner store. He pulled the sheet back and his heart sank
into his stomach.
“This guy had ID on him, uhh Kiree…” the officer started to say.
“…Stephens. Yeah…I know him. I grew up with him and his younger brother…”
The uniformed officer interrupted him. “Emmanuel Stephens?”
Davidson looked up at him. “Yeah, why?”
“Well we found him in the store. It looks like he took two GSW’s to
the chest and one to the shoulder. We found a gun next to him and a
fourth body not too far from him also wearing a ski mask. He appears to
have a fatal GSW to the head and one to the neck. We’re waiting for
ballistics to run some information to us. Judging by the angle of the
head shot, I’m betting there’s another shooter missing from the action,”
the uniformed officer concluded.
Davidson stood straight up. “You
tell ballistics to put a rush on those results. I want them in my hands
now. No, not now, but right damn it now. We have four dead victims and a
missing gunman.”
“No sir, three dead victims, one in critical;
Emmanuel was rushed to Temple University Hospital listed in critical
condition. There’s no other info on him, yet,” the officer corrected.
Davidson shook his head. “Un-fucking-believable. Manny, you better
damnit make it. You have a son, a girlfriend. I can’t even imagine how
to break this news to their mother. Has the mother been notified?”
“Not that I am aware of, sir. Would you like for me to send a couple of guys over to reach out to her?”
“No…I’ll handle it.” Davidson looked around. He had been keeping
record of the recent shootings in the area and noticed a pattern with
the way the shootings occurred, the times, and the way all of the
victims were tied to each other. This was definitely more than random
gun violence in North Philly. This was a drug war. One thing he
concluded after going over ballistic reports to recent shootings is they
all had one thing in common; the soldiers fighting this drug war were
armed with weapons only cops were supposed to have. He had suspected for
a while that there were dirty cops on the force. He had seen something
similar years ago when he was a rookie.
“I’m taking it that none of these beautiful people out here saw what happened?” Davidson asked sarcastically.
“You got it. Didn’t see shit, don’t know shit. And what’s worse is the
damn store didn’t have tapes in the damn surveillance cameras.”
Davidson closed his eyes and chuckled angrily. “Who the fuck has a
corner store across the street from the got damn projects in the heart
of the hood and don’t put tapes in the got damn surveillance cameras?
Only at the Papi store. Jesus H. Christ!” He kicked a trashcan over in
anger drawing attention from other cops. “You call the lab and tell them
I want those results now!” he growled.
“Yes sir,” the uniformed cop stuttered as he moved away to do as he was told.
Davidson stood for a moment looking around. Kiree had been a good
friend of his. He had warned him over the years that the street life
only had a back door and a front door: one leading to the grave or the
other leading to a jail cell. He would’ve rather seen him judged by
twelve and not carried by six. He prayed that his younger brother
wouldn’t be joining him. Something had to give and soon.
Davidson
suddenly had a thought. He walked back to his car and grabbed his phone.
“Yeah, Wilmington Police Department, this is Detective Keith Davidson
from the 22nd District here in Philadelphia. I need to get in touch with
one of your detectives by the name of Jamal Williams…”
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