Street Soldiers Read Online Free PDF Page B

afternoon.
    “There’s no way in hell, heaven or the afterlife that this young man committed such a gruesome killing and you know it,” Mama vehemently says.
    Netta nods her head in agreement.
    “I even called one of my clients who works for the local news. She’ll be down here soon to report on this injustice.” Netta’s on fire today. I’m sure this is the last thing the courthouse expected in this case.
    “Ma’am, I don’t know any such thing. I’ve been on these streets for twenty-two years and have seen much worse done by more unassuming characters than him,” the officer says, pointing at the defendant with disgust. I can see he’s already made up his mind, damn the trial. “You never know someone’s a heathen until it’s too late.”
    “I ain’t no heathen, fool,” Mickey’s ex says. Part of his hair’s half braided and the rest is sticking straight up—not the best look for an appearance before the judge. He scratches his scalp, revealing his shackled wrist. “And I just got out the joint. Why would I waste more time going back in over a crackhead? Shit, I didn’t want that strawberry dead. She was one of the best friends a nigga like me could have, if you know what I mean,” he says, basically admitting he’s a drug dealer without saying the incriminating words verbatim.
    “Son, please stop talking. You’ll only aggravate the officer,” Daddy says. He shifts in the hard, metal seat looking just as stressed out as Mama does.
    “So this is your son?” the attorney asks, flipping through his paperwork. “It’s taking some time for me to retrieve his entire file. I just got assigned his case a few moments ago.”
    “Hell nah this old dude ain’t my daddy,” Mickey’s ex says. “My pops died in the struggle.”
    “What struggle was that?” Mama asks, genuinely interested in this dude’s story.
    I just want this to be over with as soon as possible so we can all get back to living our lives. For months it’s been one thing after another, and I for one am tired of the constant intrusions on my personal time.
    “The struggle in the streets. There’s a war going on out there in case you haven’t noticed. It’s hard out here for a pimp.” Mickey’s ex gets a laugh out of his own ignorance.
    Too bad he’s the only one present who does. I can see why my girls didn’t want to waste time supporting him: he won’t even help himself.
    “A pimp? Really? That’s what you consider yourself?” Mama’s question and piercing gaze calm him down, though I’m sure he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly chilled out.
    “Nah. I’m just saying five-o don’t make it easy on us. We out here just trying to make money to pay the rent; you know what I’m saying? And punk asses like this Uncle Tom fool right here want to hold us down,” Mickey’s ex says, pointing at his court-appointed counsel who’s not the least bit offended by his client’s words. “It’s just like that Occupy Wall Street shit, but realer. We occupying these streets and trying to get The Man off our asses—real talk.”
    “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard all day, and it’s been a very long day,” Mama says, causing the cop to let out a small chuckle. Mama shoots the officer a stern look that lets him know she’s not on his side, either.
    “It was a great speech,” Netta says. “Stupid, but great.”
    “Man, whatever,” Mickey’s ex says. He’s got one more time to disrespect Mama or Daddy in front of me before I snap.
    The attorney looks through more paperwork a court clerk just handed him and quickly sorts through the large file. “According to the court docket we’re up next.”
    “Mr. and Mrs. James, will you be providing outside counsel for the defendant?” the attorney asks. I bet he’ll be glad to get off this case if it moves on to trial. He’s yet to refer to Mickey’s ex by his birth name, which I’m dying to know.
    “Yes, I think I will be. Let me make a call,” Daddy says,