My America by Tremayne Johnson

Author:Tremayne Johnson [Johnson, Tremayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Historical
ISBN: 9781482691641
Google: RH1WmQEACAAJ
Amazon: B00BMV7HT8
Publisher: BME Publications
Published: 2013-02-27T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Before Rudy Giuliani became mayor of New York City in 94’ the streets were literally overflowing with crime and drugs. His no tolerance for crime attitude alongside the NYPD’s forceful hand only added kerosene to an already flaming fire.

Police shootings of innocent victims in NYC were popping up on the Daily News almost every morning and in most cases no charges were filed or the officers were acquitted.

January 13th 1995

The freezing wind blew through the still night air ruffling loose debris on the sidewalk as Martin walked to the corner store to meet up with Josiah.

“Papi, lemme get one of those Newport’s.” he said, tossing loose change onto the counter. He glanced at the television and shook his head. It was another police shooting in the Bronx. Two cousins shot in the back while in their apartment. “These fuckin’ police is crazy papi. They jus’ shootin’ niggas left and right…” he said.

Leaving the store Martin lit the cigarette, took a drag and exhaled the smoke into the wind. Seconds later a blue and white police car pulled up to the red light at Horton and Brook Street.

The officer driving was a white male with a square shaped jaw, a thin shaved mustache and bright blue eyes. He was a rookie, fairly young—in his twenties but his partner was a seasoned vet; eighteen years in.

Martin and the driver locked eyes as he crossed the street.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at pig?”

The officer cracked a wicked smile and ran the red light. Martin watched as they rolled away and when he turned to walk up the block a white Buick Regal pulled to the curb beside him. The driver reached over and opened the passenger door.

“Get in…”

Martin just stared.

“Well, what you waitin’ for nigga?” He said.

Martin looked up the block and then got into the car.

“Who’s car is this Jo?”

Josiah turned the volume down on the radio.

“It’s mine,” he replied. “I mean… It’s ours. You know if you ever need it all you gotta do is say so.”

“Is it legit?”

Josiah reached into the glove compartment and pulled the title and registration out. “Jus’ paid cash for it an hour ago. You know I ain’t gon’ have you in something hot.”

“I never know wit’ you Jo.” He joked, fixing his seat belt.

“Yeah… okay…” Josiah laughed pulling out into traffic.

“Aye… before you turn that up, did you hear about that shootin’ in the Bronx?”

“Yeah… those two cousins… that’s some fucked up shit Martin.”

“The police ain’t askin’ questions Jo… they jus’ gunnin’ muhfuckas down at will… and they gettin’ away wit’ this shit.”

“Yeah I know.”

“This shit gotta stop.”

“I feel you Martin but what the fuck can we do?”

“Shoot back nigga! Fuck you mean, what can we do?” Martin was adamant about defending himself against the law. He felt he was labeled and targeted for no other reason than being young and black.

Josiah gripped the steering wheel and peeked at Martin from the side of his eye. “Why you hate the police so much?” he questioned.

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