Page 18 of This Is Law 3
“Fuck is you doing? Dutch said not to let anyone in this bitch!” he spat.
“Nigga, do you see Dutch anywhere near this motha fucka? He’s in jail, so therefore, his ass don’t run shit over here. I said that she can come in, so move out of the way, and allow her to come in!” she barked at him, matching the same energy that he had given her. The way she switched, going from 0 to 100, I could see who Kross had gotten his temper from because his ass would do the same shit.
I knew that the last thing the security wanted to do was move out of the way to allow me entry, but he did it anyways. His big ass stepped away from the door, so I was able to walk in.
I just waved at Kross’s mom since I didn’t know her at all, and she waved back. The second I was inside the room, I could hear the sounds that was coming from the machines in here. It sounded like a hissing sound, mixed with something clicking. My heart started beating super-fast because I really didn’t know what I was getting ready to walk into. His room smelled likethat same, dreadful sterile hospital smell that I hated, and that played it’s part in why I didn’t care for hospitals.
The more I walked into the room, it’s almost like the smell got a little stronger. The blinds were half- drawn, giving the room a little light.
I made it to his bedside, and when I saw what was before me, I placed a hand over my mouth, not being able to believe this. He didn’t look anything remotely like how I once knew him. Kross has always been so handsome, and his looks had been one of those things that drew me into him in the first place. Because of the ventilator that was taped to his mouth, helping him breathe, you could see the way that his chest was moving up, and down. Kross used to have beautiful, caramel colored skin, but right now, I was looking down at pale skin, that didn’t hold any color. Seeing all the wires that was hooked up to him, being what kept him alive, caused me to get a little choked up, and before I knew it, tears had hit my face, falling, and I didn’t even bother wiping them away.
In this moment, you know I started feeling guilty, wondering if I would have given him the money that he’d asked for, would this still had happened to him? I knew that it wasn’t fair for me to place that blame on myself, but I did so anyways.
I reached down, so that I could lift his hand, and it was pale, just as his face. The tattoos that were on his hands were dry because there’s no telling when the last time lotion was applied to his skin.
I put his hand back down after about five minutes, and then I went for his hair, smoothing it down. As I was doing that, his mother rounded the corner, coming from the door, where she had been standing, and she went for the chair that was on the other side of the bed, quickly taking a seat. She crossed her right leg over her left thigh, and I could feel her eyes on me. Theyweren’t piercing through me or anything, but she was looking, so that made me look over at her.
“How do you know Kross?” she asked me.
“We went to high school together. He was a junior when I was a freshman. We messed around a few times after I graduated from high school. Before I started rapping, I used to be a dancer, and he would come and support me. We go way back,” I shared with her, and she nodded her head.
“Your such a pretty girl. My son didn’t try to get in a relationship with you?” her question made me laugh.
“It was one of those things where we just knew that a relationship wouldn’t be the best move for us. I have a temper, and his is even worse. We were liable to fuck around and kill each other. When he came home from prison, me and him weren’t on that kind of time, you know? I was focused on my career, and Kross was in a place where he was trying to find himself. He was in a dark place. The last time that we were around each other, we got into a bad argument. He asked to borrow a lot of money from me, and I wouldn’t give it to him, so he got disrespectful. He even pulled a gun out on me, and everything. I know the kind of guidance that Kross lacked. You would think that he would have good traits about him, considering who raised him, but he was a hot head, and when he wouldn’t get his way, he would spaz. Most people wouldn’t have even come down to the hospital to visit someone that pulled a gun out on them, but I genuinely have love for Kross,” I let her know.
“I thought that by sending Kross to Miami to be with his dad, it would clean up his act, and make him a better kid, but I feel like Miami only made his ass worst. I’m not surprised by this happening to him. Truthfully, I thought that it would happen much sooner. I’m not saying that in a way like I wanted it to happen, but I knew that my son wasn’t a good person, so it wasonly so long before someone killed him,” it was a harsh truth, but I agreed with everything that she said.
“How long is he supposed to stay like this? Is there any chance that he’s going to wake up?” I asked her.
“To be honest, the chances are pretty much slim to none that he’ll wake up from this. Right before Dutch was arrested, they’d already had that tough conversation with him, handing papers over to him if he was ready to go ahead, and let him go. Dutch didn’t want to make the decision on his own, so he called me, and that’s how I ended up here. I didn’t have any knowledge of the shooting prior to Dutch calling me because I didn’t have a relationship with Kross. Our relationship was nonexistent because my son was disrespectful, and he would talk to me as if I was just some random bitch on the street. There’s this piece of me that’s angry that Dutch even called me to tell me what happened because now that he’s locked up, I have to be the one to make the call. When I came down here a few days ago, I was ready to wash my hands and tell Dutch that we should just pull the plug, but as I’m sitting here, all I see is my little boy that was once so innocent and loving. I don’t want to make the call. I’m going to allow God to do His thing, and when He’s ready to allow these machines to no longer be of any service to him, I’ll go ahead, and accept that,” she voiced, and I couldn’t do anything, but respect her answer.
I could tell that even through the rough relationship that she had with her son, she loved him, and that love that she had for him was the reason why she couldn’t so easily go through the decision on having them pull the plug on him.
“Do you know someone named Morgan?” she asked me, after a few moments of silence.
“I know a couple of Morgans. You gotta show me what she looks like,” I let her know.
That’s when she reached over, and there was a small table, and she picked up a black iPhone. The screen was all shattered, and I wondered if that phone belonged to Kross. She went ahead, and unlocked it, scrolled, found what she was looking for, and she stood up, so that she could hand the phone to me. I took one look at the picture, and immediately upon seeing her face, I knew which Morgan she was. I didn’t have a personal relationship or anything like that with her, but I knew her from passing.
“I know who she is. She’s quiet though. I never known her to be in the middle of anything. What happened?” I asked, handing the phone back to her.
“Her, and Kross were messing around. She was pregnant by him. Before Dutch was locked up, he was able to get in contact with her, and she told Dutch how Kross came to her apartment the same night that he was shot, and when she told him about the pregnancy, he got violent. She sent the footage to Dutch. As he was leaving her apartment, that’s when whoever shot him were already posted out front, waiting for him. She swears that she doesn’t have anything to do with it, and I believe her. The camera footage shows him coming in her apartment, you could hear the audio of her telling him that she’s pregnant, and that’s when the attack began. He couldn’t have been in her apartment for longer than ten minutes. He was shot right after, so that’s not enough time for her to have told someone what he did to her, and they retaliate. Kross was in the middle of so much shit, so it could have honestly been anyone,” she confessed, and that’s the same thing that I was thinking.
When I learned about the shooting, and that a killer hadn’t been found yet, I told myself that it could have been anyone that had done it. I wasn’t sure if the truth was going to ever come out. The way Miami liked to bury secrets, and take shit to the grave, it’s a chance that we’ll never know.
I stuck around for no longer than ten minutes, and before leaving, I made sure that I stared at Kross long and hard, and I even kissed him on his forehead because something told me that this would be my last time being able to do it. I knew that it wouldn’t be long before word got out about his passing. I’m sure it would hurt because I was one of the ones that really wanted him to get his shit together, but it didn’t happen, and I hated that for him.
Chapter Eight
SEVYN ‘LAW’ CRAWFORD
Before I walked out of the house this morning, Soraya looked me in my eyes, and told me not to show my ass today, yet, here I was, swinging the door open to the precinct with a big smile on my face, ready to ruin a motha fuckas day. I’ve sat on this recording long enough with Edward Sterling, and I was ready to hand it on over, so that they could make a move, and ruin his life.
I’d just gotten out of court not too long ago, defending one of my clients, and that went well, so I wanted to continue to stay on this high, ruining people’s day, so here I was, walking through the place like I paid rent here. You would have thought that I owned this motha fucka, as I walked in, zooming right by the officer that sat up front, and I scanned the room, seeing plenty of officers that were sitting behind the desk. My eyes went on detective Stevenson, and his partner, that was sitting right next to him. It was the same duo that held my son in the back, interrogating him, leaving him back there for hours, having him speak to them without counsel. The other officers that had been on duty that night as well were all in here, all on desk duty, just like I knew they would be. I told them niggas that it was going to be a party, so I stood here, putting my hands together, and I started clapping.
“Ya’ll look good sitting behind that desk! Ya’ll went from rushing my son, interrogating him, feeling like ya’ll were all high and mighty to stapling police reports. Life a motha fucka huh, and it comes at you fast, right?” I asked them in a joking way, and of course none of them laughed.
“What? Ya’ll don’t find my joke funny? But it was funny though when ya’ll had my minor son in an interrogation room for hours, huh? Make sure ya’ll handle them staplers right,” I kept fuckin with them, and all they could do was mumble shit up under their breath that I wasn’t able to make out.
