Life Without Hope (55 page)

“
Could you please state your name for the record?” Scandels

asked and leaned against the witness box resting his arm on top

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like he was about to have a conversation with an old friend. I had

been observing Stevey D since the bailiff had sworn him in. He

had a jerky nervous motion about him. I could see Scandels try-

ing to make him comfortable on the stand. It wasn’t working. His

beady eyes darted all around the courtroom like he wanted to bolt

for the door. The bailiffs hovered near by, just in case.

“
My name is Steven Davis,” he said priming his big lips with

a moistened tongue craning his neck forward tr ying to speak into

the microphone.

“
Would you mind telling me how you suffered the injury to

your head?” Scandels asked.

“
I was hit upside da head wit a ten-pound weight while I was

doing bench presses on the rec yard.” A slight gasp rushed through

the cour troom and Scandels played out the moment for what it

was worth, with a grimace, he shook his head.

“
So you were attacked as you worked out. Is that safe to say?”

“
Yes.”

“
Objection.” My assistant Taya Baker was on her feet, a deep

chocolate woman with a complexion so smooth it made you want

to touch her. Her eyes were large and penetrating. With her short

locks of black hair and slender figure of an athlete it was hard to

believe the woman was 52 years old and an experienced warrior in

the courtroom.

“
There is no relevance in this line of questioning. I don’t see

where the prosecution is headed.”

“
Your Honor, the prosecution intends to show the relation-

ship between this assault and the hideous acts committed by the

defendant, to establish a criminal pattern of behavior.”

“
Overruled. Counsel I suggest you make your point and move

along,” the judge said to Scandels.

“
Mr. Davis do you see the man in this courtroom that assault-

ed you?” Scandels asked. Stevey D’s arm bolted straight forward

pointing a finger at Life Thugstin. A slight rustle of noise came

from the courtroom. I looked at a few jurors’ faces and they

looked visibly uncomfortable.

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“
Bitch ass nigga,” Life said loud enough for the entire court-

room to hear. I wanted to climb under the table. The judge

banged the gavel and glared in our direction.

I reached under the table and squeezed Life’s hand.

“
Shhh,” I whispered under my breath and looked up to see the

satisfied grin on Scandels’ face. His demeanor shifted like some

wild animal that was onto the scent of blood, I saw it in his blue

eyes.

“
Could you tell us about your relationship with the defendant,

Life Thugstin? Have you ever bought drugs from this man?”

“
Yes,” Stevey D said.

“
How many times?”

“
Two, three hundred times,” Stevey D responded. Looking

around the courtroom, his fidgeting appeared to be getting worse

as he folded and unfolded his hands.

“
What sort of drugs were they?”

“
Cocaine.”

Scandels rubbed his hands together and began to stroll away

from the witness box. Stevey D’s eyes followed him like a lost

child.

“
How much drugs do you think Life Thugstin distributed

throughout the community?”

“
Objection!” Taya Baker was on her feet. “Your Honor, that

calls for speculation.”

“
Sustained. The witness is required to testify only to what he

knows to be a fact.” Scandels apologized to the court and contin-

ued with the witness.

“
Approximately how much drugs did you buy from the defen-

dant?”

“
Two or three hundred keys.”

“
Bitch ass nigga tellin’ a damn lie,” Life mumbled next to me.

Scandels walked back up to the witness stand being sure to

handle the ner vous Stevey D with kid gloves.

“
Other than him assaulting you with the weight, have you

ever known him to be violent?”

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“
Yes,” Stevey D answered a little too quick for my liking. Now

I was sure that they rehearsed this whole thing, and now Scandels

was coaching him along.

“
Could you please explain to the court?” Stevey D batted his

eyes, craned his neck forward and looked out into the audience.

“
Life had a son by the name of Shawn L. He was about 3 years

old, somebody tried to rob him at the mall or sumpin’. Afterward,

him and his men went on a killin’ spree killin’ three cops and shov-

ing a stick of dynamite up one of the cops’ anus.”

“
Objection! Objection! Objection!” All three of us rose in uni-

son. This was the precipice of disaster. The witness’ inflammatory

statement was past damaging; it could be the coup de grace to our

case. Adrienne Greene spoke vehemently. Her large breasts heaved

up with each pronounced word. She, like the rest of us, was angry

and made no secret of trying to hide it.

“
Your Honor! This is outrageous! My client is not on trial for

murder. The prosecution is intentionally trying to soil the minds

of the jur y by tainting my client as a murderer, thus severely prej-

udicing him with the inference that he is responsible for other

crimes. Your Honor at this juncture the defense has no other

recourse but to ask the court for a mistrial,” Adrienne said

brusquely as a stir erupted throughout the courtroom. The judge

removed his glasses. With a weary hand he mopped at his bald

dome and glared at the prosecutors.

“
The jur y is instructed to disregard the prosecutor’s last state-

ment. The defendant is not on trial for murder; therefore, any

implications of such can’t be used in this courtroom against him.

I will be more than happy to consider a motion for mistrial,” the

judge said. I’m sure at that moment I was not the only one at the

defense table that felt a ray of hope, and then the judge added,

“
However, I will make my ruling depending on the outcome of

this trial.” My heart plummeted when I heard that. I wanted it to

end then. The damage was done irrevocably, like slapping each

juror in the face giving them a black eye, and then telling them to

forget about it. They would never forget about the black eye that

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Scandels had just slandered Life with. I wanted to kick myself.

Shrewd like a fox and conniving like the devil, Scandels had just

outwitted me. I would have to lie and wait to entrap him, but

how?

*****

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Chapter T

wenty

Chapter T

wenty

“
The Lion’s Den”

–
Hope –

Judge Stafford called for a recess for the remainder of the day. Life

looked over at me with a somber expression that stopped my heart

as the bailiffs led him away. I saw it in his eyes like my reflection

in the mirror, fear. Stevey D’s statement was damaging. We both

knew it.

It was Friday and Adrienne Greene, the more experienced of

our defense team, was scheduled to cross-examine the witness

Stevey D on Monday morning. I secretly wanted a piece of him,

to make him squirm on the stand. But the last few weeks I had not

been feeling well, I was just not myself. The weight loss, fatigue

and the preparation for the trial in such a short time had really

taken a toll on me.

*****

The prosecuting attorney held a news conference on the

courtroom stairs and did a long drawn out statement about the

war on drugs. He enjoyed the press and played every minute for

what it was worth. He made a promise to send a message to all

criminals. He also made a promise to send Life to prison for the

rest of his life.

My associates and I squeezed through the crowds of reporters

and spectators and into our waiting limousine. “No comment,”

was my response to the bombshell Scandels had just hit us with.

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Life Thugstin, the cop killer? That would be the headlines in the

morning newspaper.

*****

As soon as I was inside my house, like usual, I checked my

messages on my answering machine. My brother in prison called.

Shit! I forgot to send him his money order. It was right there on

the kitchen table. I checked the other messages, one was from my

Dad. Normally I would have called him to make sure he was tak-

ing his high blood pressure medicine but all of my energy has been

depleted. Another message was from Stan, my ex-husband’s lover.

I thought that was strange as I reflected back, he had been trying

to get in contact with me for the last few weeks and I never

returned the calls. I decided to call my Dad and then maybe Stan,

my way of keeping tabs on Marcus. Funny as it may have seemed,

I still loved the man.

“
Hi baby girl!” My dad sounded excited to hear from me.

“
We’ve been watchin’ the case on the news and in the papers down

here. They ran an article in the Miami Times about you being the

little girl from the Pork and Beans projects. Baby I’m so proud of

you.” I heard my Daddy’s voice quiver. “I don’t like that white

man the media say you used to work fo’, what his name?”

“
David Scandels,” I responded.

My Dad went on to tell me that my oldest brother had been

arrested again for drugs. He had a bad drug addiction. I just

prayed that the media would not get wind of that. God knows I

love my family, but now I found my family background extreme-

ly embarrassing.

“
Baby girl, I’m so happy you done made somet’in’ outta yo

life. I love you sweetheart.”

“
I love you too, Daddy,” I said and hung up the phone and

wept a lone tear as I tried to force the thought of the long trial out

of my mind. Today, like the rest of the days, I was so tired.

I decided to go ahead and call Stan. I knew that one day I was

going to have to put my differences to the side. I took a deep

breath and made the call. He answered on the third ring.

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“
Hello?”

“
Hello, this is Hope Evans, you left your number on my

answering machine.” Silence.

“
Hmmm, ah, yes.” Stan stuttered ner vously. “Hope, we need

to talk.”

“
That’s why I called,” I said sarcastically. “Whatever it is you

have to talk about we can discuss it over the phone.”

“
This is important, I don’t feel it would be appropriate to talk

over the phone.”

“
Hell, was it appropriate to come into my home and use my