𝐃𝐎 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐆

43

The following week started to feel a little better considering my nigga Marquis was bout to hook me up with a lawyer that might have better news for me than the one I had. I made sure to call my mama and tell her stop paying him until I consulted with Marquise people.

"You sure? Baby, it's far in the game to gamble on something like this."

"I'm sure ma. We giving this man almost 10,000 a month for my case and for him to state the circumstances like that's it? Nah. I ain't feeling that and if I can get someone else to represent me then I'll take that chance. What do I have to lose, ma?"

My mom sucked her teeth and swallowed hard through the phone. "Baby.. you know what you have to lose. I just-," she choked and played it off by clearing her throat, "I just want you to come home, baby."

"I'm coming home, mama. Don't you worry about that, okay? Now don't be crying and shit, you know I'm coming home."

Even the more I kept saying it, it started to feel far-fetched with the evidence stacked against me but I had to keep the faith because if not me then who else?

"Okay, baby. Okay. Okay."

She kept repeating her response like she was a screeching record. But I knew my mama was a strong lady. She rode for me and my baby sister like nobody else and I had so much love for her. I said to myself when all this shit over Im gonna find another hustle and leave this hood shit behind. My mama, my sister, shit even me, we all deserve it.

But in the meantime, I had to see my mama behind a glass hiding her puffy eyes behind Armani shades on some weeks and hug her in my orange jumpsuit for what felt like too short of a time once a month.

-

Marquise had been going back and forth to the courthouse so much that every time I thought I knew he'd be back he was either in the van on the way to the courthouse or coming in when I was leaving out to sit with my mama. Usually when you called back and forth like that it can either men two things, you got a good chance of getting out, getting transferred, or getting a longer sentence. I had to make sure to sit with this nigga and see what's going on.

I sat in my bunk and looked at the folded piece of paper in my hand that Marquise gave me to his cousin / lawyer. His name was Antonio Jimenez-Brown and he was located not too far away from the projects. It made me think if he was a public defender or if he was really a full-blown lawyer who took big cases. Either way, I don't think Marquis would recommend him if he was a shitty lawyer. Hell, he even taking his case. 

I neatly folded the paper and tucked it inside a makeshift hole I made inside of my pillow that had my screwdriver/shank just in case a nigga would try it. Folding y arms behind my head and staring up at the bars that connected our bunks almost had me dozing off until Marquis came into the room with what looked like a disgusted and petrified look on his face.

"What's good, yo?"  rolled on my side and propped my elbow up to hold my cheek, "Heard any news bout your case?"

"Nah, man." Marquis said in a short huff. I watched him kick off his shoes and the wrinkles in his forehead let off that it wasn't no good news of whatever he did hear.

"'Quis, what them people talkin' bout?"

Rubbing his temples and nervously shifting around his glasses, he took a long sigh like he was coming up for air, "Its not what they talkin' bout. Its whats happened. My girl lost her baby in her last trimester. Some shit bout the umbilical cord wrapping around the baby neck. She  been in the hospital for 'bout two weeks and my cousin is breaking his back getting me visitation rights to even see her. Then, when I get to the hospital, she had a whole fuckin' other dude sitting in the room with her. Holding her hand and shit."

I couldn't do shit but raise my eyebrows but I guess he took my silence as an indicator to move on.

"Imagine me, in my fuckin' orange jumpsuit with two guards next to me when all I wanted to do was fuckin' punch that nigga dead in his throat. But," he scoffed, "I couldn't. I don't know why I didn't see that shit from the jump. She was acting funny on our phone calls and sometimes she woud avoid the topic of visiting altogether. I wrote her, constantly, and I got all these fuckin' excuses."

Marquis snatched his towel and shower slides from behind his bunk and grumbled something i couldn't even make out if I even wanted to.

"I'm sorry, dawg. I know that shit tough. You know shit gonna turn around in the end but shit, i'm sorry bout your daughter."

Marquis looked at me with pain in his eyes. That same look of frustration that my mama had when she came to see me.

"Me too, Skooby. Me too.."

-

I met with Marquis cousin that Friday, and off the bat I felt better vibes from him versus the "i'm here for the deposit" type vibe my other lawyer gave me. He looked over my case with me page by page and offered to take over my case for a fraction of what I was paying that Jewish lawyer and that shit already had me beaming. 

"Trust me, Isaiah, all i'll need are the names of those that're affiliated with this case and I'll be able to give it my all. Marquis put in the good word about you and if you able to get through that knucklehead's skull and make him wanna be better, then you sir are worth the fighting chance to get out of here."

I couldn't stop smiling as I shook his hand. I was 'bout to call my mama right away to tell her to fire that expensive-ass lazy fuck of a lawyer. When I got escorted back to my cell, from the first floor I saw a bunch of inmates crowd what I think was my cell.

"Stay here with Officer Cooper, Isaiah." Officer Warren, the beefy looking Tyrese-lookin' nigga halted me and Officer Cooper in our tracks as he double-timed up the stairs.

In a few seconds, the alarms was going off and all the inmates dispursed so they wouldn't be caught or suspected of doing shit they wasn't supposed to be doing.

"What's going on?" I questioned Officer Cooper, but he didn't know shit either. Then, Officer Warren came on the walkie-talkie radio.

All available officers we have a Code Black on the 2nd floor in Ward D. I have an inmate suicide and in need of immediate assistance.