Life Without Hope (56 page)

bed? Whatever you got to say Stan, please say it over the phone.”

I scuffed rudely, not realizing I was so bitter.

“
Marcus is in the hospital. He is dying.”

“
What!?” I screeched. “What’s wrong with him?” I heard my

voice say in a high pitch that seemed not to belong to me.

“
Marcus has AIDS,” Stan said ominously.

I sat on the floor and looked at the tiny blemishes that started

to form on my arms like tiny rashes. Was it possible that I too, was

dying from this virulent disease? Oh God! I burst into tears and

began to cr y on the phone. “See what you have done! What about

you? Do you have it?”

“
Yes, the doctors think he contracted it from me. I am what is

known as a carrier. It could be years before I start to show any

signs.”

“
God help me! If I had a gun I would come over there and

blow your fuckin’ brains out.”

“
Hope, I’m so –”

Click.

I hung the phone up in his face. Quickly, I undressed, exam-

ining myself in the mirror, my hands trembled, it was then that I

realized, if I did have the disease, I did not want to know. But that

weekend, I made an appointment to see my doctor, he did some

blood tests and said that he would let me know in the coming

weeks. I never told him about my ex-husband and the deadly dis-

ease.

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The entire weekend I was a wreck, but I found a way to relieve

stress by working on the case. My staff and I worked feverishly

going over all the documents and many depositions taken from

the witnesses that planned to testify against Life. The entire time,

in the back of my mind, I knew that there was a chance that I

wouldn’t test positive for AIDS. I was going on 26 years old, and

a single parent with my whole life ahead of me. I would just have

to wait for the test results to come back from the doctor’s office.

*****

On Monday, the day the trial was to continue, Adrienne was

scheduled to cross-examine the witness. She showed up at my

office sick and cramping so bad that she could hardly stand up

straight. So at the last moment it was decided that I would be the

one to cross-examine the witness, Stevey D. Secretly I loved the

opportunity to have the rat on stand. I knew he was a liar. Now

all I need to do was catch him in a lie and prove it. I had a plan.

*****

As usual, the courtroom was packed to capacity and the media

was there jocking for the scoop of the day. Also were the members

of the church and I saw my girl Nandi. For the sake of all the

media attention we thought it was best to not be seen hanging out

together, so while she was in town for the trial she stayed at a

hotel. When she saw me she saluted me with a clinched fist. Black

power! Next to her were some of my Delta sisters looking digni-

fied and proud.

By the time we arrived at the defense table, Life was already

there. As usual he was dressed immaculately with his Brooks

Brothers suit on. It made me want to drool all over him. And for

the first time since the bombshell had been dropped on me, I

smiled at the man with my child’s eyes, as I thought about all the

sexual fantasies I’d harbored for this brotha. Just being near him

made my panties wet. I decided if we beat this trial, I was going to

confess ever ything, he being the father to my son and the fact that

I loved him with my very last breath. Now two things hung over

my head like a dagger about to drop, one, to lose the trial and two,

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the very real imminent threat of my death.

I knew I had to take the witness apar t on the stand. He was

what we lawyers call a hostile witness. Life must have sensed my

concerns. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “We gon’ be

OK as long as we keep fighting back.” I could smell cocoa butter

and something else sweet emitting from his body as his lips

brushed against my earlobe. Charge! At that moment in time, I

could have rushed to the witness stand and fought like hell for Life

Thugstin’s freedom. And now like lioness, my staff of all Black

females sat huddled around him, perfumes mingling, campaign-

ing a strategy to champion a cause to defeat our all white adver-

saries. In essence, we were the female version of Hannibal. I

looked over to my right, I could see that Adrienne was in pain but

still determined to support us with the resilience in the face of

adversity.

*****

After the prolonged ritual of introducing the judge and swear-

ing in the witness, I was finally able to cross examine the witness.

My mind was on attack mode. That day Stevey D was his same

nervous self. Eyes darting all over the courtroom. Today he wore a

black shirt and gray slacks. The gauze bandage around his head

looked to be soiled with blood. I approached the witness stand

gingerly and wore a broad smile, the kind we women use to flirt

with, to give him a little dose of female charm. I needed to loosen

him up, to make him vulnerable to entrap himself. I unbuttoned

the first two buttons on my blouse, leaned closer out of the view

of the jury and the audience. The only two people who could see

what I was doing were the judge and the witness on the stand.

“
Please state your name for the record,” I said smiling, expos-

ing as much cleavage as I could get away with without being seen.

“
Steven Davis.” He smiled back at me nervously while taking

the liberty to peek down my blouse. I knew that he had been in

the FCI holding facility for nineteen months snitching on all his

buddies. I also knew the disposition of Black men that languish in

prisons too long, if given the chance they would gladly make love

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to a hundred and ten year old woman in a wheelchair as if she

were God’s gift to man. I knotted my brow with sympathy, spoke

with empathy. I leaned on the witness stand up close, making my

breasts strain against the soft fabric of my blouse so that he could

spy on my nipples.

“
Mr. Davis you said that you were assaulted.” I crinkled my

forehead and leaned forward. More cleavage. I looked up and

caught the judge’s eyes all in my blouse too, like maybe he was

into jungle fever at one time or another. With the question, Stevey

D looked past me and directly at Scandels, like maybe he was ask-

ing for permission to answer the question. I knew for sure right

then and there that the prosecuting office had been coaching him

right along. I intentionally blocked his view by positioning my

body so that he could not see the prosecutor’s table.

“
Could you please tell the court again what happened on the

day that you were allegedly assaulted?”

I took a step back at the same time I buttoned up my blouse.

It was time for me to mount my attack.

“
I was on the recreation yard lifting weights and Life crept up

behind me and hit me wit a weight.”

I frowned as I turned and cast a look at Life as if to say,

how

could you do such a thing to such a nice person?

“
So you were on the rec yard minding your own business and

pow!” I gestured with my hand in a mock blow. “So after you were

struck, what happened then?”

Stevey D shrugged his narrow shoulders and said, “The next

thing I knew I woke up in the hospital a week later with 188

stitches in my head.”

“
You woke up in the hospital? Why didn’t you fight back?” I

said, stabbing at his male ego. This was my bait luring him into

laxity, to cause a slip of the tongue.

“
He crept up behind me. I never saw him comin’. My homies

told me he did it.”

“
So, you never saw him hit you?” I asked, making a face.

Stevey D cut his eyes away from me and tried to look at the

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defense table. I blocked his view. “But I know it was him.”

I moved in for the kill. “Answer the question!” My voice

echoed in the courtroom. “Did you, or did you not, see the defen-

dant Life Thugstin hit you?!”

“
Objection!” Scandels was on his feet. “Your Honor, Ms.

Evans is badgering the witness.”

“
Your Honor, I simply want the witness to answer the ques-

tion,” I said curtly. The judge turned to the witness. “You are to

answer the question, either yes or no. Objection overruled.”

“
No ... no, I didn’t see ‘em hit me,” Stevey D said reluctantly.

I turned to the jury with a sour expression, waited a second to

let the fact sink in. He didn’t see who hit him. I turned back to the

witness.

“
How much did you make Mr. Davis, during your dr ug sell-

ing endeavor?”

Stevey D narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously and then

answered, “A lot.” Someone laughed in the back of the courtroom.

“
How much is a lot?” I asked walking up closer to him.

“
Eighty … ninety thousand,” Stevey D said with his hustler’s

bragging face on. The one thing about some hustlers I learned

while living in the projects, they would never miss an opportuni-

ty to shine. “I once made a hundred grand.”

“
Wow!” I gibed and made a face like I was really impressed. I

walked over to the other side of the witness stand to make sure

that the jur y could see me. This was important. I had to drive

home my point to convince the jury that the witness could not be

trusted. With a mock show of confession I furrowed my brow

with disdain for the witness and went for the kill. With all my

might I slammed the writing tablet I had in my hand down hard

on the witness stand causing one of the elderly jurors to jump in

her seat. Stevey D flinched nervously.

“
Last Friday didn’t you testify right here in this courtroom that

you bought two to three hundred keys from the defendant? Each

purchase was ten to fifteen keys at $20,000 a piece, but today

you’re testifying that the most money that you’ve ever made was

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one hundred thousand dollars. Mr. Davis, that would make it

impossible to purchase fifteen keys. Mr. Davis, I think you’re a liar

and the truth is not in you.”

“
Amen; the truth shall set you free,” a few members of the

church were saying while others applauded. I looked over at the

jury and saw faces of comprehension.

“
Objection!” Scandels shouted from the other side of the

courtroom as he spread his arms, palms open making a face as if

to say,

your Honor, you see what she is doing to the witness

.

“
Sustained. Ms. Evans, you will refrain from such an aggres-

sive style of cross examining the witness.” Judge Stafford glared at