Page 24 of This is Law

“Watch him,” she said it again.

“You always tell me to watch him, but you never give me a reason why. Give me one reason ma,” I replied, not even knowing why I was entertaining this shit with her, but I was.

“When I dream of Knox, and that night, I dream of Dutch too,” she replied.

I didn’t want her to feel like I was fuckin with her, not believing her, even though I didn’t, so I chose to keep quiet about it. My mama could say some wild, off the wall shit. A few times that I’ve been here, she would come up with these drastic stories.One time, I remember coming to see her, and she was lying in bed. The nurse had come in, just to pull the blanket up on her that she had wrapped around her body, and my mama started screaming, saying that the nurse was trying to suffocate her. I’ve heard her saying that the walls were moving. Sometimes, she didn’t want to walk on the floor because she would think the floor would collapse up under her. Don’t even get me started on the times that I’ve come, and she would think that I was my pops. I just knew the lengths that her mind could go, so the shit that she was saying about Dutch, I wasn’t going to entertain it.

We stuck around for almost two hours. In those two hours, she never finished folding the load of clothes that was on the bed. Her nurse came in with lunch, and she picked over it, just like I knew she would. Before leaving, I hugged her this time. I’ve been coming down here to see her for years, and I don’t think she’s ever hugged me back whenever I would hug her.

As a kid, I used to think that she hated me because of the resemblance that I had of my father. She wouldn’t really talk to me. When I got older, and Dutch bought me a car at 16, I would make it my business to drive out here and see her. A lot of people don’t know this, but I would come so much, in hopes that she would get used to me, and she wouldn’t hate me. I figured that if I was in her face, and she saw me a lot, she would soften up. As a little boy, and even as a grown man, all I ever wanted was for my mama to wrap her arms back around me when I would hug her. I needed that. Here I am, a thirty-eight-year-old man, and I finally got it. Both her arms wrapped around me, and she damn near squeezed me. About fifteen seconds had gone by, and she finally let me go.

“Watch him,” she said that shit again, sounding like a broken record. I didn’t respond to it this time. I just kissed her on her cheek, and I stepped back, moving out of the way, so that theboys could come over, and they could hug her, and we would be on our way.

They finished, and we left the room. I walked in the middle, while each of them walked on either side of me.

“Why she kept saying to watch Dutch?” Legend wanted to know.

“She always says that. Ion know. She be tripping,” I let him know.

“You think it’s some truth in that?” Legend asked a follow up question. His question made me pause. I took the time to reflect. Every moment that I had with this nigga from the moment he took me in at eight years old, up until now. The fishing trips, the way that nigga used to spoil me, never missing any kind of school function, the life lessons, all that shit. My mind flooded with all those things, and my eyes dragged over to Legend, so that I could answer his question.

“Nah. I don’t,” I responded, and he nodded his head, dropping it.

From there, we walked back to the car in silence. It was a Friday, but the boys didn’t have school today, so they were hanging with me. They wouldn’t go back with Yaya until Monday, after school. I had some shit to handle at the office today, but I would only be there for a few hours. The boys had their phones and shit, and whenever I would bring them into the office with me, they would either lounge around in my office space, chill in one of the meeting rooms, if a meeting wasn’t going on, or find one of the study rooms. The study rooms would usually be a place that they would go when the two of them had homework.

As I was driving, my work phone started ringing. It was my assistant, Tionna, hitting me. Seeing her name flashing on the screen, caused me to turn the radio down in the car, so that Icould answer. I slid the bar across, answering the phone for her, and I placed it to my ear.

“T, what’s good?” I answered.

“Hey, Mr. Crawford. I know your probably on your way back to the office, after visiting your mom. I was trying to wait until you got here, but they kept calling, and their persistent. You know that rapper Reggie, right? He got caught up in a Rico sweep late last night. His manager, his mom, and almost everyone that’s affiliated with him keeps calling. They only want you to represent him. I told them that you were out of the office right now, and that you could get back to them once you got in, but they aren’t trying to hear that. I have his mom on the other line. Mr. Crawford, can I please merge you, so that you can talk to her?” Tionna asked, damn near begged. I could hear the aggravation all in her voice. They had her stressed the fuck out.

I knew who Reggie was. I didn’t know him personally, but I knew of the nigga. My boys listened to his music. He was a hot rapper from the Broward County area. He was Yaya’s client. Because the boys loved him the way that they did, a few months ago, when Yaya knew that he had to come down to her firm, she made sure that she brought the boys with her, and they still talked about that shit till this day. They were amped that they got to meet one of their favorite rappers. That lil nigga could spit. I would have his shit blasting in my ears whenever I would be at the gym. What I liked about him was that he wasn’t rapping about the average shit that niggas would rap about. Every song didn’t require him getting in the booth, talking about all the hoes he’s fucked, all the money he had, and the nice cars and shit that he pushed. He was a lyrical rapper, that spoke on shit about the problems in society, and the fucked-up people that were in higher power, calling the shots. Young nigga, but he was smart. He was from the hood, so he was a product of his environment, still hanging with the same kind of friends that didn’t mean himany good, but you could tell he was trying to change his ways, and get away from them.

I had so much shit on my plate right now though. Big court cases that I had coming up. The biggest one was the case that I had with Justin, my juvenile client. Justin’s case had been pushed back twice. I was upset with the push back because every time it was pushed back, it forced him to have to sit a little longer. I needed his mom to take the stand because I was going to force her ass to be a key witness. I wanted her to speak on the abuse, hospital records, and even dental records when that nigga knocked her teeth out. It’s just we couldn’t get the fuckin subpoena served to her. She was ducking everybody at this point. The number that we had for her it’s been changed, and she wasn’t at her address either. She obviously didn’t know who the fuck I was, and how I didn’t stop until I got my way. I was able to hire a private investigator, so she was caught slipping, coming out of the nail salon, where she was properly served. Now that she was served, her ass was legally obligated to come to court. With that taken care of, Justin’s court date was coming up in a few weeks, and this time, nothing should come in the way of me having to push it back again.

With all that shit going on, here Tionna was talking about a RICO case for one of the biggest rappers, and I knew that these kind of cases could go on for a long time, especially if they had a case already built up on this nigga, and he did have some kind of involvement. No case was too big for me though. I knew that I could handle it.

“Merge me over. Let me talk to the mama,” I let her know.

“Oh my God. Thank you. I’m about to connect you with her right now,” I could hear the weight being lifted from her shoulders.

It took a few moments, but the call was finally connected, and I could hear what sounded like sniffing to me.

“Mr. Crawford, please. I’m begging you to take on my boy as a client. I don’t care what the retainer fee is. We have it to pay you. My son is innocent, and the shit that their trying to pin against him is crazy. I’ll admit that Reggie does hang around a lot of street dudes, who are heavy into gang activity, but Reggie is not doing that stuff. He’s all in with his rap career. Him, and his girlfriend have a baby on the way, and since he’s found out about that baby, he’s been moving on the straight, and narrow. Last night just happened to be one of those situations where he was at the wrong place at the wrong time,” I let her say her piece, not going to interrupt her.

I was a straight to the point kind of lawyer. I was never going to tell a client what theywantedto hear. Instead, I would always tell them what theyneededto hear, so even in her distress, I was going to be brutally honest.

“Listen, I understand all of that. Trust me, I really do, but that’s not how this works. I’ve been in this line of business for years. The feds have a lot on their plate already. Trust me, they not kicking in Reggie’s front door for fun, and because they don’t have anything else to do on their spare time. Somebody that’s in his troop; they’ve been watched. If Reggie doesn’t have anything to do with that like you said he doesn’t, it’s just an unfortunate situation that he got caught up in” I was real with her.

“And I understand that. I really do, but this is one of those things where I know he’s innocent. All he does these days is make music. That boy sleeps at the studio. Now, if this was two years ago, I wouldn’t have been on this phone, begging and pleading like this, vouching for my son’s innocence because I know the mess that he was in two years ago-

“And the mess from two years ago could possibly be what had them kicking down his door, but I won’t know that until I sit down with him, start talking, and we start digging. My retainer starts at 50. I’m not cheap because I don’t produce cheap work.My work is top of the line. I give people another chance at freedom. Even the ones that aren’t innocent. If Reggie is clean, and he doesn’t have any involvement with this, I’ll prove it in court, just like I always do,” I voiced.

“Okay. What about bond? Do you think he’ll post a bond?” she asked. It took everything in me not to laugh. I know this shit wasn’t funny. Trust me. I had two black boys of my own, so I would never chuckle at a young black boy having any problems with the law, but her asking me that was crazy.

“This is a RICO case. Not petty theft, or something domestic. When it comes down to these kind of cases, this is considered federal, and federal cases don’t move that fast. At the most, I can file for a detention hearing. With that kind of hearing, me and a prosecutor will go before a judge and try to argue about a bond. Whatever the prosecutor has on your son, they’re going to try their best to show that to a judge to prove that Reggie is probably a danger to the community, or even a flight risk. It can go one of two ways. I’m on my way to the office. I’ll be there in like ten minutes. I’ll call you back, and we’ll set something up, so that we can get this process started,” I replied, and I could hear her crying.

I offered her kind words, letting her know that I was going to do my best, just as I did with any of my other clients, and I could tell that that gave her some kind of peace. We hung up eventually, and I sighed, and tossed my phone in the cupholder, and ran my hand down my face.

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