Where DO Bad People Come From?

Written By Donnie Williams

2009

Preface
There is a question that is as old as man. That question is simply this: Is
man inherently good or is he inherently bad? And why?

The Burning City

Look at me, The Burning City, I exist only because I am; I am the anger
that lies awake while men with compassionate hearts sleep, I toy with the
minds of those who demand justice and cry for freedom!

Look at me, The Burning City, I am the infant who cries out at night for
milk, I am the mother who cannot fulfill its needs; I am the drunken
husband who has lost his way home, I am the angry son who created the
flame.

Look at me, The Burning City, I am the homeless man who pushes a
shopping cart and sleeps in the sewers; The very bowels of the inner city,
I am he who sits on death row for one of the few crimes I truly did not
commit.

Look at me, The Burning City, I am the jobless man with five kids to
feed and nowhere to turn, I am the preacher whose work is never done,
and yes, I too am the kid standing on the corner waving a gun.

Look at me, I am The Burning City, I am the dope fiend who dies alone,
the one who in the final moments of life begs his heavenly Father to
remember him.

Look at me – Look at me,

The Burning City,
I am the monster that dwells within all men!

Donnie Williams
626-676-7154
4129 E Indian School Rd suit 326
Phx, Az 85018
 Acknowledgements
Thanks for the Memories
R.I.P

Peter Hannah, Charles Ray, “Big Atari”, Perey “BigMert”

Wattsin, Larry Duncan, Ike, Harold Lee Bruntson, Sam
Bruntson, Mary Robinson, Willie Rice, Jr., Willie Rice, Sr.,
Steven Rimes, Greg Watkins, Nate, Shorty Hall, Connie Wells,
Carolyn Wells, Jamie Wells, Tony Carthon, and LA ”Cooda”
Barion.

And last, but not least – Dewayne Rice, the who said, “Always
reach higher- live you dream.”

May all of these souls, now passed on, truly “Rest In Peace”
Once again, Thanks for the Memories”

Thanks To

Darcel Hannah, Victor Crawford, Raymond Poole, Earl Hall,

Corey”Yo Bline”, Charles Rice, Chris Lee, Cezzer, Big Eddie
Robinson, Sylvester Gholar, Derrick Potts, Roger Potts, Roger
Adams, Mark Rice, U Pee, Carl Taylor, Chuck Taylor, Chuck
Robee, Paul Newsom, “Fidget”, Kenny Rice, and Tee Rex.

Special Thanks To

The whole family – The Lujan family, David, Miguel

Thanks to Karlos for always wanting to hear a story or a joke

of mine.

Earl Shamberger
Arthur Jean Shamberger
Ronnie Jackson
Big Ivan
Moddy
Corey (Nephew)
Charles (Nephew)
Rick Lacey

The Mantel family: Mark, Wallace, Robert Jr. & Sr., Sandra
and all of the Geary and the Pope family.

A Very Special Thanks To

My brother Ronnie and his family – Ronnie has always given

me good insight and advice.

Ann, my sister, who have always been there, not only for me,
but for my children as well. I LOVE YOU ‘SIS’.

Thank you, Aunt Lois. You always greet me with a smile and
for being so strong. I love you so much, Aunt Lois.

Big Kid, I am so thankful for your belief in me and for putting

up with my periodical BS.

Darcel, you are and have always been a true friend; always
there. I am ever so thankful.

Thank you, Martina for you work on this book.

Thank you, Mr. Poole for your diligent work on this book.

Thank you, Harry Conlon for your editing and advise on

writing.

Thanks to Tyrone and the whole Williams Clan – It’s all about
family.

Darren Hall, Jerry “Penthouse” Davis, Stepheon Williams,

Anthony Gottlar, Bogarud, Bernard Hanes, Fast Eddie, and
Donald “Duck” Robinson: Thank you all so very much!
 This book is dedicated to:

My family, my children, Deanndra, Moody, Donnie Jr., (Judy)

and Deven.

But most of all, this book is dedicated to my mother, Thelma

Lee Williams, May She Rest In Peace. “Mom, your memory
lives on perpetually in my heart.”
 Chapter 1

When I began to write this story, I didn’t know quite

where to begin. I mean, so much has happened. When I
start thinking back, it’s as if my mind begins racing at a
hundred miles an hour. I hear voices from the past, and
think to myself, what a life this has been. I begin to
wonder, why? Why has god taken out so much of his
time to watch over me? After all, I have never done
anything for him. The voices in my head echo like a
gunshot blast, but over them all, one voice seems to ring
out. I can hear Paw Paw’s voice.
A chill seems to come over me, as his voice gets clearer
and clearer. I can hear him now. “Hell no I’m not coming
to get you. You had better swim your ass back to shore!”

I hated Paw Paw for a week after he took me out to the

middle of the lake, and threw me out of the boat. I believe
he would have let me drown, but at nine years old, I dug
down deep inside of myself and fought my way back to
the shore, crying all the way.

Paw Paw greeted me at the shore with a towel. He looked

at my tears and said “Boy dry your face and let’s go see
what your grandmother has fixed for lunch.” He turned
and began walking back towards the car. I don’t think he
took more than five steps before he turned around swiftly,
grabbed me by both arms and squeezed me so tightly, I
felt the blood literally stop moving in my arms. He looked
at me, still crying, and said “Boy didn’t I tell you to hush
up and dry your face!” I began wiping my tears away
with the back of my hand. Paw Paw began to shake me
and said, “Keep your mouth shut. Don’t run back telling
your grandmother I threw you in the lake. She wouldn’t
understand, so keep your mouth shut; you hear me boy
hear me boy?” I shook my head yes. Paw Paw let my
arms go, turned and began walking again. As I said, I
hated Paw Paw for throwing me in the lake, but strangely
enough, from that day on, I knew how to swim. I was
never scared of the lake again.

I hear Paw Paw’s voice most clearly because of the things

he did to me as a child. They are still with me today. In
light of all I want to share with you I think Paw Paw
would be a good place to start telling my story. Let me
begin by saying that after many hours of thought and
counseling, to this day, I still can’t tell you if Paw Paw
was a good or bad man. He was just Paw Paw.

James Whitemore, or Paw Paw, as I called him, was my

grandfather. He was born in Rose City California in 1928.
He often claimed to have fought in both world wars,
although his age did not reflect that. He was a big man,
towering six feet nine inches, and weighed in at around
three hundred pounds. His skin was burned black from
working the corn fields most of his life. Paw Paw had
hands the size of a baseball mitt. Once I watched him slap
a man and break his jaw. Paw Paw didn’t take any shit
from anybody. His arms were the size of tree trunks. Paw
Paw was a giant of a man to everyone. He seemed to be
fearless. Nothing shook him. However, I knew that wasn’t
really true.

I know that Paw Paw was a deeply tormented man. He

had a ghost living in his head. At times, I felt really sad
for Paw Paw. He seemed so lost, but he always managed
to keep it together in front of everyone, it seemed, except
for me. I saw Paw Paw for what he was. I didn’t know it
then, as a child, but now as a man, I know that Paw Paw
made me carry the weight on my shoulders for the man he
really was. For that, perhaps, I’ll never forgive him. Up
until now there were so many things about Paw Paw I
couldn’t talk about. I was a good little boy. I kept all of
Paw Paw’s secrets inside. He would often say, “That is
between you and me Wesley. You keep your mouth shut”
and keep my mouth shut is what I did.

The first time I saw Paw Paw I came to stay with my

grandparents after my father was sentenced to six years in
jail for robbery. My mother BarBar couldn’t take care of
me. She tried but it was just too much for her. God Bless
her soul. BarBar was a good woman. My mother gave
my father all she had and more. I didn’t get to know my
mother well, but as I said, I know she was a good woman.

It’s as though it was yesterday, my mother woke my sister

Carmen and me up, and said, “Pack your things, we’re
moving.” Even though this was no less than the sixth
time we had moved, since my father was jailed two
months ago. I was glad to be getting out of the dump of a
place we were in. I shook my sister and said, “We’re on
the move again, get up.”

Carmen wiped the sleep out of her big brown eyes and
said, “I hear you, you don’t have to yell, and stop pushing
me.” In no time, what little bags we had, were packed.
My mother rushed us to a waiting cab. As I think back,
the cab ride was so long, Carmen and I fell asleep at least
twice.

We pulled along side a giant yellow house and parked. I

looked into my mother’s eyes, and saw a sadness that
made me instantly reach out for her. I gave her a hug and
asked, “What’s wrong?”
My mother was holding back her tears. She just shook
her head and said, “Don’t worry, mama’s okay.”
I looked at Carmen and she could hardly sit still. She had
a smile on her face as bright as the sun. She looked out
into the big front yard with its green grass, and row upon
rows of flowers, of all kinds. Everything was so neat. It
looked as if no one had ever walked or played on this
yard.
From out of nowhere came the screaming sound of
Carmen’s low-pitched voice. All I could hear her saying
was “Grandma Wilson, look over here. I’m here.”

I turned to the right and saw a woman walking toward the

cab. As Carmen hurriedly fumbled for the door handle,
trying to get out of the cab, once again, I looked over at
my mother. She had begun to cry. For some reason, I
looked back over at Carmen, still fighting to open the cab
door, and I became angry at the smile on her face. I
yelled out to her “What’s wrong with you? Can’t you see
mama’s crying?”
Carmen stopped struggling with the door and said
“Mama, don’t cry. Everything’s going to be all right.”
She reached over and gave my mother a hug. As they
embraced, I saw my mother smile, and say, “I love you
Carmen. You’re such a good girl.”
Then I saw a shadow cover the window of the cab. I
looked and there stood a woman who looked like she
could be my mother’s twin, only she was somewhat older,
with graying hair. Looking at her, I thought to myself,
she’s beautiful. Our eyes met only for a moment. She
had Carmen’s big brown eyes, and my mother’s smile.
She seemed to be somewhat uneasy. She acted as if she
didn’t want to even look at me. Instead, she focused on
Carmen, who was still hugging my mother. I don’t think
Carmen even remembered the woman was walking
toward the cab, until she spoke. She said “Carmen get
your things and bring them in the house.”
Without a word she turned and headed back towards the
house. Carmen began collecting her things. I sat in a
daze, wondering who was the lady that Carmen called
Grandma Wilson. I wondered why I didn’t know her and
Carmen knew her so well. Why does Carmen call her
grandma and why does she look like my mother. At eight
years old, it was all very confusing. Carmen suddenly
snapped me out of my thoughts with a big hug and kiss.
She said, “You should come visit me next week.” I shook
my head yes, not realizing it would be more than twelve
years before I’d see my big sister Carmen again.

As we pulled off, Carmen began running through the lush

green grass. My mother scooted closer to me, and hugged
me, as she told the cab driver to take her to 167 E.
Hammond Street. We drove for what seemed like another
two hours. I was hot, thirsty and tired. It didn’t seem like
we would ever stop, but finally the cab began to slow
down. The driver began looking up and down the street
for the address. My mother pointed up the street to the
right, and said “Driver, it is the small, white house to your
right.”

We stopped in front of the home. My mother pulled out a

Kleenex and began wiping my nose. She said “Wesley,
don’t let your nose run. Haven’t I told you about that?”
“Yes mama” I looked at the white house and said “Mama,
where are we? And who is the lady Carmen is with? Is
this our new house?” I was full of questions. My mother
stared at me and said “Carmen’s with a friend of the
family, and yes, this is your new house. The people that
live here are your father’s parents. You’re going to be
staying with them for a little while.” I started to say
something, but my mother put her hand over my mouth
and said “You be a good little boy Wesley, and do what
they tell you to do. These are your grandparents and they
love you, just like your daddy and I do. I’ll be back for
you real soon.” She opened the cab door, stepped out
with my things, and we began walking up the narrow
driveway to the house.

By now it was night out and I could hardly see a thing. I

followed closely behind my mother. I stood behind her as
she knocked on the front door. The door swung open a
man’s voice said “Hi BarBar, come on in.”

My mother answered “No thank you James. I just came

to introduce you to your grandson Wesley.” Still standing
behind my mother, I heard a deep voice say, “Step out
from behind your mother boy, and show Paw Paw your
face.” I stood behind my mother frozen with fear. My
mother moved to the left and there he stood a giant of a
man. He smiled and said, “Yeah, that’s my grandson, all
right, he looks just like Jonathan.” I stood there still
frozen. I couldn’t move. It was as if I had hundred pound
weights holding down my small feet. Paw Paw grabbed
my hand and bent down to my eye level and said, “What’s
wrong? Don’t be scared. I know you don’t know me, but
I’m your grandpa and I love you. You’re family and
there’s no reason to be scared.”

Paw Paw made me really feel at ease. For some reason,

when he looked at me, I wasn’t scared anymore.

I began to think about all the times my father had talked

about his dad taking him to the lake to swim and fish,
about all the times they’d go jogging in Ashley Park, and
afterwards they would go get cotton candy. I also
remember my mother in recent years, telling my father he
needed to patch things up with his parents. She would
say, “Call your parents we could use their help.” My dad
would just shake his head and say “BarBar get off my
back. I don’t need them or anyone else, cause I got
myself. Besides I don’t see you beating down a path to
your parent’s door. They’ve got ten times more than my
people have.” My mother would run to her room and cry.
Dad would say, “Some things can’t be fixed BarBar.
Some things are meant to be. Talking won’t fix anything
leave it alone.”

I was snapped out of my daydream by the sound of Paw

Paw’s voice. He said, “Wesley, would you like a scoop of
vanilla ice cream? I think your grandma made some a day
or so ago.”

I looked at my mother and said “Mama will you come and

have a scoop with me?”
My Mother turned and looked back at the cab and said,
“Maybe next time Wesley, the meter is running in the
cab.”
Paw Paw let my hand go and said “BarBar, the boy wants
you to have a scoop of ice cream with him. I’ll pay for
the extra time.”
At that moment, Paw Paw reached into his back pocket
and grabbed a black leather wallet and began walking
down the narrow driveway toward the cab. Paw Paw paid
the driver and the cab drove off. My mother yelled out,
“Wait a minute, my things are in the cab.” Paw Paw
turned and began walking back up the driveway, and low
and behold, he was carrying all my mother’s things.
When he reached the porch, my mother said “James, why
did you tell the cab to leave?” Paw Paw just looked at my
mother and said, “Let’s go inside. I’m sure you can stay
the night. I’ll take you wherever you need to go in the
morning. Besides, you haven’t said hi to Wilma yet.”
Paw Paw motioned his hand for us to go inside. Mom
hesitated for a moment, looking down the driveway. As if
she was about to take off walking down the street. My
mother had the look on her face of what the hell I’m tired
anyway. My mother turned around and followed Paw
Paw in the house and I was close behind. We stepped into
the living room, what I would later call the quiet room. I
looked around and everything was in its place.

You could tell the room wasn’t used much. The couches
were pure white, with plastic covers over them. The
carpet was nice and fluffy, not beaten down from people
walking on it. The coffee table looked to be Chinese. I
would find out later that the table was actually Korean.
I was very impressed by the whole scene, how everything
was so neat and clean. I’d only seen room like this in
magazines. My mother wasn’t a very good housekeeper,
although, it wasn’t totally her fault. We moved so much,
and to boot Carmen and I didn’t help any.

We were very messy children. Looking at Paw Paw’s

place made me realize there would be no leaving my toys
all over the house. I began to worry if I’d be allowed to
even play with them. As we passed through the living
room, Paw Paw said, “Young Wesley, you are to stay out
of the living room. Your grandma Wilma doesn’t even
want me in there. It’s her masterpiece, so stay out of there
unless you are asked in.”.
Paw Paw turned and looked at my mother and said, “I’m
sure you remember how Wilma is about that old, dusty
living room of hers.”
My mother shook her head and said, “I don’t blame her.
Everything is so pretty.” She then looked over at me and
said “Wesley, you remember what Paw Paw said and stay
out the living room.”
I shook my head “Yes”.
We then entered another room, the den. This room looked
lived in yet clean. There was a small coffee table, two
Lazy Boy chairs and a couple of TV trays. There were
pictures all over the walls. It seemed as if every square
inch was taken up. There were pictures of all kinds,
mostly army and family pictures. There was a lifetime of
pictures on the walls. I knew from the first time I saw this
room, I’d be in it often, not only for the pictures, but also
for the massive TV screen, 27 inches, to be exact. The
TV sat right in the middle of the room. All the while we
were in the den, I didn’t take my eyes off it. I guess Paw
Paw saw me staring at the TV. He walked over to it and
patted it on the top and said, “This is my baby. I’ll teach
you how to work it Wesley, but until then, if you want to
watch it, come and get me. I’ll turn it on for you.”
I looked at Paw Paw and said, “Yes I’ll come tell you.”
Paw Paw kept walking toward the kitchen. As he walked,
he said, “Wesley boy, you sound and look so much like
Jonathan, it’s almost like he’s here”. As we entered the
kitchen, there was a small dining table with four chairs.
Paw told us to have a seat. We sat down, Paw Paw looked
as if he had become worried or saddened by something.
He asked my mother in a low tone “So how is Jonathan?
Have you heard from him?”

My mother answered, “I got a letter last week. He said

he’s doing fine, trying to make the best of a bad situation.
He says he’s trying to write a book of poetry, and working
out everyday. I’ll be going to see him next week. Why
don’t you come along with me?” At that moment Paw
Paw seemed to get angry. He stood up from the table and
said, “I will not go and see a college educated man in jail
for petty theft.” He looked across the table at me and
said, “He’s lucky I’m taking his son in. I’m sorry I even
asked about him. Now if you will allow me, I’m going to
go get Wilma.”

As Paw Paw walked off, my mother looked real pissed

off. She said “Wesley, grab you r things. You are leaving
with me.” Mom began gathering her stuff. I didn’t know
what to think; other than I’m moving again. This was a
short stay, I thought to myself. Just then, Paw Paw and
Grandma Wilma came into the kitchen. Paw Paw said
“Look Wilma, look at your grandson.”
She immediately hugged me and said, “I have waited so
long to see you again. I haven’t seen you since you were
about a year old. You’ve grown up to be a big boy, and
looking just like your daddy.”
I looked into Grandma Wilma’s eyes, thinking to myself,
that she looks so peaceful and nice. The fact that she had
a duster in her hand made me think of her pretty living
room. She turned and looked at my mother, and seemed
to since my mother was upset.
Grandma said “BarBar what’s wrong?”
My mother answered, “Nothing Wilma, everything is just
fine.”
My grandma then looked at the bags in my mother’s
hands and said, “Well why don’t you put your bags down
and relax. James tells me you’ll be staying the night.”
My mother began to look confused. Before she could say
anything, Paw Paw turned to grandma Wilma and said, “I
think I know what’s wrong. As always, I’ve seem to put
my foot in my mouth.”
Paw Paw then looked at my mother and said, “I’m sorry
for what I said. Regardless of how disappointed I am
with Jonathan that has nothing to do with Wesley staying
here. He is my grandson, and he will always be
welcome.”
At that, my Grandma Wilma asked for my mother’s bags,
so that she could put them up for the night. As my mother
handed our bags to her, Grandma Wilma said, “BarBar
don’t pay James any attention, he is upset. I hope you
understand.”
My mother looked at Paw Paw and said “Parts of me
understand, so I guess there is no need for an apology.”
Paw Paw looked and said “Good now how’s about we get
that scoop of ice cream now?” Paw Paw motioned his
hand and said, “Let’s have a seat.”
Grandma Wilma went to the cupboard, got four bowls and
sat them on the table. She then went to the refrigerator
and took out the homemade vanilla ice cream. As she
filled our bowls, she asked my mother where Carmen was
and how she was doing. My mother sat in silence for a
moment and said, “She is fine. She’s with my mother.”

As my mother said that, it was at that moment I realized

that was why the woman Carmen stayed with looked so
much like my mother. They could have passed for twins.
Grandma Wilma said “Well BarBar before you leave, give
me your mother’s phone number so that we can keep in
touch with Carmen. Maybe one weekend we’ll go and get
her so she can spend some time with us. After all, she is
our granddaughter too. I don’t care what the
circumstances are. The only thing that matters to us is that
she knows we love her, so you don’t forget to leave the
number.”

My mother shook her head in agreement. As soon as my

bowl was full of ice cream I began eating. Oh, the taste of
that sweet vanilla ice cream made me feel like I was in
heaven. To this day, I’ve never enjoyed vanilla ice cream
as much as I did that night in Rose City.
 Chapter 2

I think perhaps now would be a good time to formally

introduce my father Jonathan Whitemore, or Smooth, as
he was called on the streets. Born in 1942, and for the first
ten years of his life, he was raised in Germany where Paw
Paw was stationed in the war. After the war, Grandma
Wilma and Paw Paw thought Germany would be a good
place to raise a child. However, after years of Paw Paw
not having a steady job, and the fact that Grandma
Wilma’s parents died and left a home in Rose City,
California they decided to return to the states with my
father.

Soon after returning, Paw Paw got a job working in the

cornfields. At that time, it was a very good job, and just
about the only job a black man could get back in those
days. Paw Paw put in lots of long hours as he was
determined to give his wife and child a good life. He was
like most black people of that time, often disheartened by
the state of racism in America, and how things seemed to
never change.

As a child, Paw Paw had hoped things would be different

when he became a man, but nothing had changed. Paw
Paw would often watch the news and think to himself, the
world is only getting worse. He wondered how he would
shelter his family from it all. The first thing he decided
was that his son would not attend public school. There
was a private school around the corner from their house.
My father went to private schools most of his life, and for
the most part, my grandparents sheltered him from the
harsh realities of racist America. In fact, my father told
me that he had been back in the United State six years
before he ever saw a white person in the flesh. My father
seldom left the Black neighborhood.

At seventeen my father graduated from Adams Academy

at the very top of his class. He was a smart cookie. He
knew all the ins and outs about most everything, I guess.
This is why he survived so well in the streets. People
thought of him as slick or cunning; he was educated.
After graduating, he received a full academic scholarship
to Morehouse University. He enrolled in 1959. This was
a major change in my father’s life. He had never been
more than ten miles away from the small town in which
he grew up.

At Morehouse, he was not only two thousand miles away

from home; he would realize in time that he was a world
away from home. All the things he had been sheltered
from seemed to be crashing down around him. It seems
there was a march of some kind everyday on TV. He saw
black men and women hosed down or attacked by dogs.
Seeing these things angered my father in a way that made
him question himself. Often, he would see the marches
and rallies on campus, but never attended any of them.
He felt like he should be doing more than just watching
from afar. So my father began taking part.
It seems the more he attended these events, the more
angry and disheartened he became. Often he would write
Paw Paw and say that he wished he was back in Germany,
and that America wasn’t a good place for the black man or
woman. Paw Paw received so many letters from my
father, each letter angrier than the one before. He became
concerned that my father was not focusing on his studies.
When my father changed his major later in his first year
from business to sociology, Paw Paw felt it was time for
my father to leave Morehouse for awhile and come home.
Paw Paw wrote him asked that he transfer to Rose City
College so that he could be closer to home. This was the
first in a long run of disagreements between them. My
father’s refusal to return home infuriated Paw Paw. He
would say to Grandma that my father was crazy if he
thought he could change the white man by marching and
yelling, yet, march and yell is what my father did.

It was at one of those marches he met Kathy, Carmen’s

mother. As my father told me, he was at a rally for
Students Rights to Leave Campus after 9pm. My father
was part of a sit in. The way he says it, he looked across
the room and there sat an angel, looking like she’d just
fell from heaven. He said their eyes met, and for him it
was love at first sight. However, it was a little different
for her. Well, anyway, to make a long story short, after
months of trying, she said yes to a date. A hundred times
or more, he told me they had smothered chicken and rice,
but he didn’t eat a bite. He stared at her the whole
evening.
Kathy Wilson was the love of my father’s life. I truly
believe if she were alive today, things would be somewhat
different, but I don’t like to speculate. My father and
Kathy were married at Kathy’s parents home. Kathy’s
parents were well to do. They owned a used car lot and a
small soul food joint. Kathy’s parents didn’t really
approve of my father, but they loved Kathy enough to let
her be happy.

Kathy grew up ten miles across town from where my

father grew up. It was pretty much a mixed
neighborhood, full of poor whites and well-to-do blacks.
When Kathy’s parents offered to buy them a house in
their neighborhood, my father said that he wanted to
move back across town, to North Rose City so that he
could teach at one of the neighborhood schools. Kathy’s
parents would say, “You don’t have to live there to teach
there.” My father would say that it is important for black
college graduates, like him and Kathy to come back and
show the younger children that we care about what
happens to them. He would often remind Kathy’s parents
that they to started out on the north side of town. Kathy
would say that although she didn’t grow up on the north
side, she felt that maybe she would do more for the
children there. She pointed out to her parents that some
how most of her life she’d been told bad things about the
north side, but when she looked at her husband’s and his
parents, she just could not believe it was all bad. Kathy’s
parents hesitantly agreed and gave them a loan on a
house. My father would not allow them to buy it for
them.
My father took on a teaching job at John Muir High
School. Kathy worked for Marshall Junior High School
teaching English Literature, until she became pregnant
with Carmen. She took some time off so that she could
prepare for her new child. My father began putting in lots
of overtime to pay the bills and was happy to do it. All he
thought about was having his first child. Grandma Wilma
would often stop by and cook dinner for the both of them.
My Grandma Wilma could cook her tail off. As a child I
loved her homemade ice creams and cobblers. Boy, she
could fry chicken to die for. Grandma Wilma spent a lot
of time at my father’s house. Grandma was just as happy
to be having a grandchild. She and Kathy would talk for
hours about names for the baby, toys and clothes. They
would go on and on. It was at these times my father
would think about Paw Paw. He didn’t understand why
Paw Paw didn’t understand. Often he would ask
Grandma Wilma why hasn’t his father come to visit and
see his new home. After all they only lived three miles
away. My grandmother would just rub my father’s face
and say, “Give him time. He will come around.”

My father would let out a deep breath and say, “Mama it’s
been long enough. He’s till angry with me for what
happened in college. So what I chose to stay, when he
thought it was best that I run home. I don’t understand
daddy’s reasoning mama. He wanted me home. Okay, I
understand he wanted me here long ago, but I’m here now
with a good job and a college degree, and a new wife he
has never met. By the way, I don’t believe for one minute
he was too sick to attend our wedding. Mama, what does
dad want from me? I’m his only child. He has no other
options.”
My grandmother would say, “Don’t upset yourself son.
Your day will come around. Trust me he will.”
In time Paw Paw did come around to my father’s house.
They began going fishing. When my father wasn’t
working, however, they would have their ups and down.
Paw Paw for the most part thought my father did well.
Although, he also thought my father was too open-
minded. He called him a bleeding heart. Hell, come to
think of it, my grandfather thought Dr. Martin Luther
King was a troublemaker, and that many blacks would die
because of him. Paw Paw would tell my father that all the
marching in the world wouldn’t change the white man.
Paw Paw would say, “The white man is the most wicked
mammal to rise out of the water and walk. The white man
will kill his parents for money. He will have sex with his
own flesh and blood. The white man can smile in your
face and kill you in a heartbeat. Hell, when they landed
on Plymouth Rock, they were all sick and dying. The
Indians could have stepped on their heads and killed the
lot of them, but they didn’t. Instead, they taught them how
to fish, hunt and grow their own food. When the white
man got well and strong, the first ones they killed were
the Indians. That’s what you’re dealing with when you
deal with the white man son.”

My father would say to Paw Paw, “All white men aren’t

bad or evil people. Marching is an effective way of
protest. One day the white man has to hear us.”
Paw Paw would laugh and say, “The white man will cut
his ears off before he hears you.”
Grandma Wilma told me that once they began talking
politics they ‘d go on and on for hours. Sometimes Paw
Paw would get so mad at my father’s point of view that he
wouldn’t speak to him for a day or so. Grandma Wilma
told me that Paw Paw never really got mad at my father’s
viewpoints. The fact of the matter was that Paw Paw was
scared of the white man, and he’d spent most of his life
avoiding them. He thought my father’s views would get
him killed, and he didn’t want to lose his only son. Even
with the arguing, Paw Paw and my father maintained a
pretty good relationship, but that would soon end.
July of 1964 Carmen was born. It was a joyous moment.
Both Kathy and my father’s parents celebrated Carmen’s
birth. She was the first grandchild on both sides of the
family. But the celebration didn’t last long. Seven
months after Carmen’s birth, while driving home after
picking up Carmen from the babysitter, my father lost
control of his pickup truck and crashed into a telephone
pole. Kathy died instantly. Baby Carmen was shaken up,
but not harmed. Needless to say, this was the turning
point in my father’s life. Father was never the same after
that day. There are those who say my father died out
there with Kathy. I don’t know if I would agree. But
what I have gathered, from all I’ve been told by those that
knew him, they are certain that the man he was began
dying that day.

When I was growing up, Carmen’s mother wasn’t talked

about. Up until I went to live with my grandparents, I
believed Carmen and I had the same parents. In fact, I
can remember the morning I found out Carmen and I
didn’t have the same parents. It was the morning after my
mother took me to stay with Paw Paw. I was still
dreaming about Grandma Wilma’s sweet, delicious ice
cream, when I was woke by Paw Paw’s yelling voice. My
Grandma Wilma was trying to get him to calm down. I
got up out of bed with sleep still in my eyes, and crept
closer to their bedroom door so that I could hear more
clearly what they were saying. To my shock, I heard my
grandfather call my mother BarBar a “no good lousy
bitch” and that she was nothing more than a dope fiend
who destroyed his son. Upon hearing these terrible things
about my mother I began to cry. I then thought to myself,
I hope Paw Paw doesn’t wake my mother with his yelling.
I tiptoed back to the room. As I was wiping my tears
away, I began to get angry with Paw Paw. I wanted to
wake my mother and tell her I wanted to leave this house,
but when I got back to the room, my mother was gone. I
began yelling for her. I ran down the hallway to my
grandparent’s room still crying. I asked Paw Paw where
my mother was. He just stared at me and said, “Boy,
don’t you ever yell at a man in his own house.” And
walked out the room.
My grandma Wilma hugged me and said, “She’s gone
Wesley, and she probably won’t be back anytime soon.
It’s going to be okay, grandma’s gonna take care of you.
Don’t you worry, Grandma’s here for you.”
I asked my grandmother, “Were my mother and Paw Paw
arguing again?”
My grandmother, not realizing that I’d head the things
Paw Paw had said about my mother, told me that Paw
Paw and my mother hadn’t argued. Paw Paw was upset
that he’d misplaced his gold watch, and that she had no
idea where my mother might have gone, but for me not to
worry. She’d be back. The truth of the matter is that my
mother never returned for me. Perhaps most of the things
Paw Paw said about her that morning were true. Needless
to say, I never saw my mother in that light. What child
would?
For some strange reason I wanted to talk to Carmen. I
guess in an unusual way I thought Carmen might know
where our mother was, so I asked Grandma Wilma could
she call Carmen for me. Grandma Wilma had no number
for Carmen. She said she’ d hoped my mother would’ve
left it. But she didn’t. I began to wonder if I would ever
see my mother or Carmen again. I asked Grandma Wilma
did she know the lady Carmen was staying with, and
could we go see Carmen. My grandmother stared at the
floor for a moment, and said Carmen’s staying with her
other grandparents. My grandma Wilma was quite for a
moment and she hugged me even tighter and said,
“They’re your grandparents too, and you know Wesley, all
of us grandparents have been foolish.”
My grandma began to cry and said, “We’ve lost so much
time being foolish. The only one who have really
suffered as a result of all this foolishness is you and
Carmen.”
My grandmother kissed me on the cheek and said, “I’m so
sorry Wesley about everything. I know you don’t
understand now, but one day you will.”
All I could do is tell my grandma not to cry. My grandma
wiped away her tears and said, “Grandma’s okay.
Grandma’s upset right now.” My grandmother looked at
me and said, “Wesley when you grow up and have
children of your own, always love them no matter what
happens in their life, or how they choose to live their life.
Just love your kids unconditionally.”
Even though I didn’t understand why she was saying
these things to me, I shook my head yes. I felt sorry for
my grandmother. She was so upset. As I remember that
morning Paw Paw only made things worse. He came
back into the room and seeing my grandmother crying
said, “Woman, what are you crying for? Don’t shed a
tear. Not one tear over BarBar, she’s no good.”
My grandmother grabbed me by the arm and began
leading me out the room. As we walked, she said to Paw
Paw “Don’t you talk like that in front of this boy.”
Paw Paw acted as if he hadn’t heard a word she said. He
continued talking, “Wilma, what kind of woman has a
child by her sister’s husband. She’s a no good dope
addict who stole my gold watch.”
As Paw Paw said those things about my mother, I
remember my grandmother covering my ears, trying to
protect me and stop me from hearing what Paw Paw was
saying, but I heard every word of it. I swore I would
never speak to him again. My grandmother walked me to
my room and shut the door to stop Paw Paw, who
followed close behind, from coming into the room. She
sat me down and said, “Don’t worry about your Paw Paw,
he is upset over his watch.”
Paw Paw began banging on the door and yelling, “Open
up this door Wilma!”
Grandmother just yelled back, “Go away James. Go
somewhere and cool off! This boy or I haven’t done
anything to you! You have no right to yell at us!”
I guess Paw Paw must have known Grandma Wilma was
right. He didn’t say another word. He walked off.
When Grandma thought the coast was clear, she opened
the door and walked out into the hallway. She looked up
and down to make sure Paw Paw was gone. She then
turned to me and said, “Go wash your face and get
dressed. I’ll cook you some eggs and bacon.”

I went into the bathroom to wash up. All I could think

about is Paw Paw and the things he had said. I was sure
he was mistaken. My mother hadn’t stolen his watch.
Even though at the age of eight, I didn’t know what a
dope fiend was. Somehow, the way Paw Paw said it. I
knew it wasn’t a good thing. I knew Paw Paw was
mistaken about that too. However, the one thing he’d said
that was no mistake is that Carmen’s mother and my
mother were sisters. As I said, at eight years old, and it
was a lot to take in. I wouldn’t fully understand until
some years later.

From what I understand, my father met my mother

through Carmen’s mother Kathy. Yes, they were sisters.
My mother BarBar Wilson was Kathy’s older sister. It
seems that my mother got into drugs. Her parents found
out and asked her to leave their home. My mother
became a hooker and fell deeper and deeper into her
addiction. Mean while, Kathy was attending Morehouse,
where she met my father. As you know, they were
married sometime later. When they moved to North Rose
City, my mother BarBar began coming around, mostly
when she didn’t have anywhere else to go. My father and
Kathy took her in. Often BarBar would be around their
house for weeks at a time. Kathy was happy to be
spending time with her sister. She knew that the time my
mother was with them, she wasn’t on drugs or hooking.
After weeks some times they’d wake up and she would be
gone. Just like the day she left me. In saying that, I
would like to note that I’m no longer bitter about my
mother leaving me and never coming back. I just wish I
could have said goodbye differently.

When Carmen’s mother Kathy died, my mother came to

help my father take care of Carmen. My father never
recovered from Kathy’s death. I guess as Paw Paw would
say, “The monster within took over.”

It was my mother who introduced my father to heroin. In

no time, he was hooked. My father and mother began
having a sexual relationship only three months after
Kathy’s death. Although my father was using heroin, he
still seemed to maintain his job, for a while. I was born in
February of 1966. I call my birth the birth of the bitter
child, as my birth caused much bitterness and anger. In
fact, it separated everyone. Paw Paw didn’t want to talk
to my Dad. My mother’s parents further disowned her. I
was treated like an outcast. In my adult life, I have often
blamed myself for the division of the family, but then
again, I realize that I had nothing to do with anything.

I was what came forth from two lost people. I have spent
hours upon hours in counseling trying to understand why
my mother’s parents never seemed to accept me. After
all, I am their grandson. All my life, they’ve looked at me
as if I was invisible, only seeing Carmen. For all my
mother’s parents never gave me, my father’s parents gave
a hundred fold. They loved Carman and me without
question. I must admit I’ve often questioned Paw Paw’s
love for me.

I guess at the time I reminded him too much of my father.

I don’t know why Paw Paw could never forgive my father
for shacking up with my mother. Why he could not
understand that after Kathy’s death, my father began to
die slowly. My father told me that when Kathy died, he
wished he ‘d died out there too. I’m sure there’s still
sadness in his eyes today, when and if he speaks of Kathy
Wilson that is if he is still alive. Often I wonder if I’ll
ever see my father again. I don’t know if I really miss
him. I do know that there are still some questions that
haven’t been answered.

If faith has it we will see each other again, either in this

life or the next. All I can say is I hope he’s got control of
his monster. When my father spoke of my mother, he
didn’t describe her in the same light as Paw Paw, or most
other people. Maybe my father didn’t feel the way he told
me. Maybe he was just saving me from the truth. After
all, it was him that beat and pimped my mother. Yet he
would always tell me, “Wesley, son, your mother is a
beautiful woman, and one day I’m going to give her the
world because she deserves it.”
He would say to me, “Wesley, you always love your
mama no matter what, and take care of her.”
As I think about it, perhaps one of the biggest voids in my
life is that I never got a chance to take care of my mother
while she was alive. So to show my mother how much I
did love her, I had her body exhumed and reburied at
Greenland Cemetery, where the rich and famous are laid
to rest. That was my way of taking care of her, God bless
her soul.

My mother died of a drug overdose in May of 1976. Her

body was discovered at a drug house, three days after her
death. When the police did a raid on the place. The five
people who were arrested there, were so high, they didn’t
even notice she had died. No one was charged for her
death, because she was just another dead junkie. When
my father who was still serving time for robbery heard the
news, his words were, “I’m sure she looks down upon us
from heaven, as that is where all angels ascend to. She
has reached the last leg of a long journey, and I am sure
she’s at rest. May God rest her soul.”
Those words still touch me today. My father sure had a
way with words.

My mother’s funeral was small, a few high school friends,

my father’s parents, and I. My mother’s parents never
showed up. They would later say that my mother had, in
their eyes, died many years ago. Even in death, my
mother’s parents could not forgive her. Who do they
think they are? I guess I can say the same for myself,
because in truth, I have never forgiven them for the way I
was treated, as an outcast child. Perhaps that is something
I need to work on. After all, this book is about new
beginnings. I shall make it a topic of discussion at my
next counseling session.

My mother’s father died in 1990 of a stroke. Her mother

still lives in the house my mother grew up in. Perhaps
one day soon I’ll pay her a visit. After all, she is my
grandmother. When my mother died, that seemed to
finalize things in my mind. You know I’d always thought
that she would come back. For me, when my mother
passed on, I’d been living with my grandparents for two
years, but I never lost hope that my mother would return
for me. When the realization hit me that she was never
coming to get me, I balled up and cried. Not so much for
her death, but the fact that my father was in prison, and
there was no one who could take me away from Paw Paw.
I loved Grandma Wilma, but I feared Paw Paw. He had
too many secrets for me to hide.

My grandfather was what we would call today a paranoid

schizophrenic. He tormented me as a child. He told me
things that still haunt me today. When I began this story, I
don’t know if Paw Paw was a good or bad man. He was
just Paw Paw, and in spite of the things he did to me, I
love him dearly. To this day, I look forward to our walks
in Ashley Park. In saying that, I would like to note that I
haven’t fully forgiven him, but I’m working on it. For the
most part, when Grandma was around, everything was
fine. Paw Paw didn’t drink much, maybe a beer or two.
But on Thursdays, when he got paid, which happened to
be Grandma Wilma’s bingo night, things were quite
different. There were many a Thursday night when I
wanted to beg Grandma Wilma to stay home, or take me
with her, but I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut, like a good
little boy. Besides, Grandma Wilma used to be so happy
on Thursday nights she always fried chicken and cooked
cornbread and gravy. Paw Paw’s favorite. Then she’d
call her friends and talk about what they’d be wearing to
bingo. She’d go get dressed and come out her room
looking like and angel. Paw Paw would give her some
money and always say, “Go knock um dead Wilma.
Daddy needs a new pair of shoes.”
They’d both laugh and kiss each other. My grandmother
was so happy to me, I couldn’t dare complain to her, so I
said nothing.
Every Thursday my grandmother would hug me as she
left and say, “Don’t stay up too late. You be a good boy
for your Paw Paw.”
Even though I wanted to run out the door with her, I’d
always smile and say, “Yes Grandma Wilma, I’ll be a
good boy.”
When Grandma Wilma left on Thursdays it was always
the same. Paw Paw would wait thirty minutes or so, to
make sure she was gone. He would look out the front
window, as if he was searching for her or something.
He’d look for a moment, and then say like clock work,
“Wesley, go put your coat on. We’re going to take a
walk.”
We’d always walk to the same place, the neighborhood
gambling shack. For those of you who don’t know what a
gambling shack is, it’s an illegal place where people go to
play cards and shoot dice.
My grandfather was a well-known figure in the illegal
gambling scene in Rose City. He was a loaner. There are
those who called him a loan shark, but Paw Paw always
insisted he was fair. Paw Paw would sit me in a corner
and walk the floor looking for those who owed money.
From that corner, I saw many things: pimps, hookers,
players, junkies, drug dealers, and thieves. Some of these
people would even sit at my table and talk to me, mostly
drunks. I didn’t mind going to the gambling shack. In
fact, I liked it and kind of looked forward to that part of
Thursday nights. It was when Paw Paw and I would leave
is what made me grow to hate Thursdays.

As we walked back, Paw Paw would sip on a fifth of

Vodka. In no time, he would be drunk. He would pull his
pistol out and say, “Here Wesley, take this gun and walk
back for three blocks and make sure no one is following
us.”
Now mind you I was only nine or ten years old. Hell, I
was scared of the dark. To this day that’s why I think he
did that to me. I think he may have heard me tell
Grandma Wilma I was scared of the dark. Anyway, it
seems every Thursday I backtracked three or four blocks
to see if anyone followed behind us. I would always
return and say I didn’t see anyone. Paw Paw would say,
“Good boy, now give Paw Paw the gun and you keep your
mouth shut about this.”
I’d always shake my head yes. We would continue to
walk home. By the time we made it home, like always,
Paw Paw was on full. The whole fifth of Vodka would be
gone. We would walk in the front door and Paw Paw
would say, “Shush, be quiet. This is grandma’s clean
room.”
To this day, I call Grandma Wilma’s living room the quiet
room because every Thursday Paw Paw would say those
words, “Shush be quiet.”
It’s funny, when I think about tiptoeing through the house,
and Grandma Wilma wouldn’t be home for the next two
hours. Often, I’d wished Grandma Wilma would come
home early so that she would make Paw Paw go to sleep.
When Paw Paw and I tip-toed into the den, he would say,
“Wesley, go to bed. It’s way past your bedtime.“
I would go through the motions of preparing for bed, but I
knew there would be no sleep for me anytime soon. I
would go get into bed, and like always, my grandfather
would yell for me. I would get up and walk to the den
and say, “Paw Paw, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Like always, he said, “Wesley, there are ghosts in this
house.”
When he first told me this about a month after I came to
stay with them, I got scared. I to believed there were
ghosts in the house. But as time went on, I realized the
ghosts were in my grandfather’s head. Paw Paw would
often tell me that the men he killed in the war lived in the
house with him, as they had followed him from the
battlefield. Paw Paw would sit in the dark with his gun
lying in his lap. He would say to me, “Wesley, walk
around the house and yell to the ghosts to show
themselves. I know they are here.”
At first, I was scared to walk in that small, dark house, but
after a year or so, I wasn’t scared anymore. The only
thing that scared me was Paw Paw drunk, waiving his 45
in the air. I was sure one day he would kill himself or me.
Paw Paw and I would sit in the den all night until we
heard Grandma Wilma’s friend dropping her off. Paw
Paw would hear grandma say her good byes and turn to
me and tell me to go to bed. I would turn and walk to my
bedroom. Like always, he would grab me by both
shoulders and say, “I don’t want you telling your grandma
about tonight. You keep your mouth shut, you hear me
boy?”
I would always shake my head yes and rush to my room
as fast as I could go, so Grandma Wilma wouldn’t know I
was awake.
I would listen to Grandma Wilma come in the house from
her bingo game. She would always yell, “James, I’m
home” and Paw Paw would come walking from the
bedroom as if her yelling woke him.

He’d say “Wilma, haven’t I told you about yelling in this

house?”
She’d answer, “I’m yelling for my big handsome husband,
and I don’t care who hears me.”
Paw Paw would say, “Well, thank you, but keep it down.
Wesley is sleeping.”
At that, my grandmother would say, “Let me go look at
my angel.” She would walk to my room, open the door
and look in on me for a moment. I would pretend to be
sleep. She would kiss me on my forehead and say “sweet
dreams, I’ll see you in the morning.”
After she left my room, I’d sit up for the next hour think
about Paw Paw, sometimes feeling sorry for him, other
times feeling angry at him. I wished someone could have
helped my Paw Paw.

When I last saw Paw Paw a few months ago, I got up the
nerve to ask if he still saw ghost. He just sat in his chair
and said “Wesley, you are not a little boy anymore.
You’re a grown man. I thought by now you’d understand
everyone has a ghost they’re hiding from. Perhaps yours
have not been revealed to you yet. But trust me Wesley,
they’re there.”
I told Paw Paw that I didn’t believe in monsters or ghosts,
but in truth, I am not so sure they don’t exist. Ghosts and
monsters still are a big topic of discussion at my
counseling sessions. By the way, before I go any further
in my story, I’d like to give thanks to Dr. Franklin who
has helped me deal with many issues. I know that it is
customary to give thanks at the end or beginning of a
story, but in this case, I believe it’s appropriate to do it
now. Dr. Franklin is part of this story, however for certain
reasons, mostly his own wishes, he asked not to be
mentioned.
Paw Paw said that all men have ghosts. I guess in part I
do believe him. I often wondered what has become of my
father. In 1977, my father, Jonathan Whitemore was
released from prison. I had been living with my
grandparents for five years at that time. My father
knocked at my grandparent’s front door. Paw Paw opened
it and saw who it was, turned and yelled to Grandma
Wilma, “Your son is here” as he walked away from my
father.
Grandma Wilma came running to the front door as if the
house was on fire, all the while, screaming, “Thank the
Lord, my baby’s home!”
She greeted my father with a big hug and kiss, and said, “I
have prayed for you every night.”
I remember my father standing in the doorway crying. It
shocked me. I’d never seen a man cry. Once I saw Paw
Paw make a man beg, but never had I seen a man cry. I
stood in the hallway watching both my father and
grandma cry, and for some reason, I began to cry too.
My Grandma grabbed my father by the hand and walked
him in the house. That is when I heard him say, “Where’s
my son? Where’s Wesley.”

When I heard that, I began to dry my face. Moments

later, my Grandma Wilma called me. I came walking out
the hallway, and there he stood. My father, who I’d
dreamed about, was standing right there. As I looked at
him, I began having flashbacks of when I was a small
child. My father would toss me high in the air. I really
believe I was flying. I stood there for a moment, not
knowing what to say or do. My father smiled, and said,
“Come give your daddy a hug son.” As I hugged my
father, for some reason I began to think of Paw Paw. He
stormed off and went walking down the street. I knew the
ghosts would be out tonight. I felt sorry for Paw Paw, but
I was happy to see my father. I wished to myself that Paw
Paw and my father would get along, but it was never to
be. I don’t think Paw Paw’s seen my father more than
five times in the past fifteen years. Hell, I haven’t seen
him in at least 25 years.
I must admit, I still hold out some hope that my father and
Paw Paw will see each other again. The night my father
came, when Paw Paw stormed out the house, my father
yelled out, “I’m sorry daddy! I made a mistake!”
Paw Paw stopped at the doorway for a moment and
opened his mouth, but no words came out. He just turned
back around and walked out the door. I saw the sadness
in my father’s eyes. Now I’ll be the first to admit, my
father was a very hard man to figure out, but the fact that
he loved his father wasn’t hard to read about him. I
would bet a million dollars he still seeks Paw Paw’s
forgiveness. Needless to say, my father didn’t come
around much after he left that night. He called to tell
Grandma and me that he was staying in Hollywood,
mostly in and out of motels. Once he called and asked if I
could stay the weekend. Grandma Wilma didn’t think it
was a good idea at the time. Paw Paw was sick with a
bad case of the flu, and she knew that it would upset him.
My father left his address saying that he would be at this
place for a while, and it would be nice if I came to see
him. The following day, I skipped school and caught the
bus to the address he gave me. I was kind of scared. I
know if my grandparents found out I had come to see my
father, they would be upset. Grandma Wilma wouldn’t
like the fact I had skipped school, and for some reason,
even though he never said it, I don’t think Paw Paw
wanted me around my father. Once when I was sixteen
Paw Paw told me that all the Whitemore men had
monsters inside of them, even him and myself. I smiled
when Paw Paw told me about the monster that lived
within us. You see most of my life, he had told me about
his ghost. Never once had he mentioned any monsters.
So I assumed he was just trying to spook me.

Paw Paw explained that all the Whitemore men were

descendants from an African tribe called the Zoë tribe. It
is said that the Zoë tribe helped the white man capture
slaves. When there was no one else to capture, the white
men captured all the Zoë. It is said that a curse was put
on all the Zoë men and that curse is the monster that lives
inside the Whitemore men. My Paw Paw said, “Wesley,
you must learn how to control the monster in you or he
will eat away at you, until one day, he has consumed you
and becomes everything you are.”
He told me to be careful when dealing with my father,
because he believed the monster nearly consumed him. I
must admit, even though I smirked and laughed at Paw
Paw’s monster story, I was somewhat scared at the
thought of a monster living inside of me.
The bus ride to Hollywood seemed to take forever. I’d
never been to Hollywood, so I was excited to see all I’d
heard about. I was looking forward to my father showing
me around. I got off the bus in downtown. The bus
driver told me that I had to switch buses downtown in
order to get to my father’s place. After about a thirty-
minute ride, I finally made it to the street my father was
staying on. I took the address out of my pocket and read
it again, 596 E. Sunset. I began walking, looking for the
address. Finally, after walking a mile or so, I came upon a
green building with the address 596 E. Sunset over the top
of the building. A sign hung that said The Jones Recovery
House.
I walked up the stairs. When I reached the top, I saw a
room full of beds and people all over the place, mostly
men, and a few women. There was a man standing
behind a desk. He saw me standing there and asked, “May
I help you?”

I turned and said, “Yes, I am looking for Jonathan

Whitemore”
The man began to smile and shook his head, and said,
“You mean Smooth, that’s got to be your daddy. Boy, you
are a spitting image of him. He just stepped out for a
moment. I think he walked down to the store on the
corner.”
Just as he was finishing his sentence, he spotted my father
walking up the stairs. He yelled to my father, “Hey
Smooth, your boy’s here.”
As he said that, I turned and saw my father walking up the
stairs. He was carrying a small brown bag, which he tried
to hide once he saw me. As he reached to top of the
stairs, he said, “Wesley, your grandparents know you’re
here?”
I just stood there, not saying anything. My father said,
“Come on Wesley, answer me. What’s wrong, the cats got
your tongue?”
At that I shook my head no and said, “I’m suppose to be
at school now, so I guess they kinds don’t know I’m
here.” My father hugged me and said, “Well I guess you
don’t have much time, being that school let’s out at three
o’clock.”
He handed the man behind the counter the bag and told
him he’d catch him later. I’d seen that brown bag many
times before. It was the same kind of brown bag Paw
Paw carried his vodka in. My father motioned for me to
follow him. We walked in the crowded room. I looked in
some of these men’s faces. Most of them looked as if
they had very hard lives, and you could smell feet and ass
all over the place. I wondered to myself what was my
father doing in a place like this. I guess my father noticed
my eyes were all over the place. As we reached his bed,
he said. “That’s right Wesley, take a good look around and
when you leave here, I want you to remember this
stinking place, cause this is where you’re gonna end up if
you keep ditching school.

I told my father that I had only skipped school so I could

see him. He said I should ‘have waited until the weekend,
and that school was more important than seeing him. My
father acted as if he were mad that I was there. Then out
of nowhere, a smile came to his face. He said, “You ever
been to Hollywood before?”
I answered, “No.”
He said, “Well, let me show you the town. You’ve got a
few hours.”
I must have seen all of Hollywood that day. I was amazed
at all the people my father knew, mostly women, who
seemed to always hand him money. What I didn’t know
that day was that my father was a full time dope fiend and
a part time pimp. Over the next year, I would visit my
father off and on. Many times, I saw him in action. His
nickname was Smooth, and smooth he was. My father
could talk a cat off a fish truck. He could sell diet pills to
an Ethiopian. Often he would say to me, “Wesley my
son, one day I’m going to the top, and when I get there,
I’m going to tear a hole in it, and keep right on going.”
To this day, I really believe my father believed his own
bullshit. The truth of the matter gas that he never could
get a handle on his drug use. There was no getting to the
top, there was only getting high.
When I was seventeen, I went to visit my father at his
latest address, only to find out he’d moved. I didn’t
worry, as my father never stayed in one place long. I
knew that he’ would be in contact with me sooner or later,
but to this day, it’s been twenty-five years, and I have not
heard a word from him. I thought he’d show up for
Carmen’s wedding. Carmen was married in 1980. She
got married while she was still attending college at
Florida State. Carmen married Gus Williams, an all
American football star at the college. Carmen told me
that she wished daddy could have been there, but she
wasn’t going to worry. She knew he was okay. Carmen
told me that she was glad I came, and that she was sorry
that we hadn’t kept in touch over the years.

I hadn’t seen Carmen in ten years, before her wedding. I

remember thinking to myself, when I last saw Carmen,
she was a little girl, running and playing in the front yard.
Now she was a woman getting married. Carmen had
grown to be such a beautiful woman. When I looked at
her, I couldn’t help but think of my mother. I wished she
were alive to see Carmen getting married. I was very
happy for her. Gus seemed to be a good man, not to
mention, he was a hell of a football player. I was glad I
got to see my big sister Carmen. I was deeply saddened
that I hadn’t spent more time with my sister. Well from
that day on, I was determined to keep in touch with her,
and for the most part, I have. Even now from time to
time, I’ll fly out and have dinner with Carmen and her
family. She has two boys, Paul and Jonathan, and a
daughter Karen who was named after Gus’s sister who
died from sickle cell. Her husband Gus was injured in his
senior year, which stopped him from going to the pros.
He now works for a government agency, which I am not
allowed to mention. By the way, if I speak very little
about Carmen and her husband Gus from this point on,
it’s only out of respect for Gus’s job I’m sure.

At times Gus wishes he didn’t have a brother-in-law like

myself. I to have often wished the earlier parts of my life
could’ve been different. Today I walk around as if the rug
will be snatched out from under my feet. I am always
wondering who will find me out. Well, before I go any
further into my life as it is today, let me take you back
into my youth so that you might understand my fears, and
concerns. As I was saying, when my father was a no
show at Carmen’s wedding, in spite of Carmen saying she
felt he was okay, I began to worry that something was
wrong with him. I would often come home from school
and ask grandma Wilma if my father had called. I would
go back to Hollywood and ask around if anyone had seen
him. After a month or so of looking, and not getting any
calls from him, I sort of gave up looking.

I knew that I was beginning to worry my grandparents,

especially Paw Paw. He would often say to me, “Wesley,
don’t worry your grandmother by asking questions about
your father. It only reminds her he’s gone. Besides you
need to be focusing on your school work.”

I decided that PawPaw was right, and I threw myself into

school as a way of forgetting about my father. I also
knew that I could win Paw Paw’s favor. He was real big
on school. He would often tell me, “Wesley, get an
education. That is something no one can take from you.”
As I look back, I took those words to heart. I wanted to
be the best. However, that’s not quite the way things
went.

I studied hard and did all my homework. I would like to

say I was the best, but I was average at best. It seems no
matter how hard I tried. I could still never seem to get the
hang of it. In time, I began to hate school. To many
people telling me what to do. By my senior year, I’d
given up, but I knew it didn’t matter. They were going to
let me graduate anyway. I know they were sick of me,
and they didn’t mind pushing me out into the world
knowing absolutely nothing, and that’s exactly what they
did.

When I left school, I was functioning on an eighth grade

level. When I graduated, PawPaw thought I’d pulled it
off, but in truth, it was the school system that had pulled
the wool over his eyes. However, even though Paw Paw
wouldn’t admit it, we both knew I couldn’t do the college
thing, so when I decided to get a job right away, Paw Paw
agreed. Neither of us even talked about me going to
college.

I got a job at Woodson’s market, a small grocery store in

the neighborhood. Mr. Woodson was a good man. He
had a big heart. I believe he gave more credit out than he
sold. And what did he get for all he did? A bullet in the
head, that’s what he got. I had left for the day. Mr.
Woodson told me to go home early. He had some
business he had to take care of. His son Mike found Mr.
Woodson dead the following morning. When I arrived at
the store there was blood everywhere. It looked as if
someone had slaughtered a pig. To this day that whole
scene remains imprinted in my mind. The rumor had it,
that Mr. Woodson owed a loan shark and couldn’t pay,
and no, the loan shark wasn’t Paw Paw. It was a man
named Lucky Don. He was feared by many, and loved by
few. This man, when spoke of, people whispered so that
only the person they spoke with heard the name being
said. This cat Lucky Don was no joke. He never laughed
and he only half smiled. He was all business. If you
owed him you paid or you paid the price. I had heard talk
of this man they called Lucky Don, but I’d never seen
him. As I look back to this day, I wish I had never met or
even heard the name Lucky Don. He fucked my life up.
He walked me right up to the gates of hell. Lucky Don
was a real bad man who did inhumane things to people. I
saw perhaps the worst that man had to offer when I
worked for Lucky Don.

Mr. Woodson was murdered. Needless to say Lucky Don

and his boys took the market over. I had already made
my mind up that I would not work for him. So I quit
when Mike told me that Lucky Don would be taking over
the store. I believed they had been running the market for
about a week or so when I decided to go and pickup a few
of my things I’d mistakenly left in the stockroom. Well
that’s what I told myself I was doing, but in truth, I
wanted to see the sharp dressed man they called Lucky
Don. I knew something wasn’t right about what I was
doing. It reminded me of the time I had gone to see my
father without my grandparents knowing. Paw Paw
warned me about going back down to the store. Well, as I
said, I didn’t listen to Paw Paw’s warnings. I caught the
bus back down to the store. When I got there the store
was closed. I thought that was odd since the store
opened everyday at 8am sharp.

By my watches time, it was 10am. Then again, I thought

to myself, it’s not Mr. Woodson’s store anymore. Mr.
Woodson was dead. Just as I was about to leave, a big red
caddie, (that’s Cadillac, for those of you who don’t know
what a caddie is), showed up.
Out stepped two of the biggest men I had ever seen. Up
until that day, Paw Paw was the biggest man I had ever
seen. These two guys made Paw Paw look small. I mean
they had muscles on top of muscles. It was clear these
two men had lifted weights most of their life. They
looked mean as pit bull dogs. One of them started
walking towards me. I was so scared, I wanted to take off
running, but I didn’t. I stood there frozen with fear. He
walked past me and opened the front door of the store,
then turned to me and said. “What do you want? The store
won’t be open until noon today.”
I began to shake all over and I’m sure my voice was
trembling. I said in a low-pitched voice, “My name is
Wesley.”
Before I could say another word, this giant man said, “I
didn’t ask you your name boy! I said what do you want”
I cleared my throat and said, “Well sir, I used to work
here.”
But again, before I could say another word, the man
walked off headed back towards the caddie. When he
reached it he opened the back door and out stepped a light
skinned man with long hair and a briefcase in his hand.
I knew this was the man they called Lucky Don because
he was suited and booted. I tell you he had alligator boots
on so fresh, I swear you could see the swamp water still
dripping off them. He wore a Bossalino hat that must of
cost a hundred dollars or more, and a diamond pinky ring
that captured every ray of the sun. What surprised me
most was the fact that he wasn’t a particularly big man.
In fact he looked to be 5’7” and weighed about a hundred
sixty pounds. When he stood next to the man who had
opened the door, he almost looked like a child. Even
though he had a smirk on his face, somehow he didn’t
look like the killer people said he was. Lucky Don
stepped out of the car, and the three men began to walk
towards the store, toward me. When they reached me,
Lucky Don asked the first gentleman I’d spoke with, who
I was. The man answered this kid says he works here. I
started to open my mouth to say what I said, was I used to
work here, but before I could speak, Lucky Don threw me
the car keys and said, “Go and get that black box out of
the trunk and bring it in the store.”
I stood there for a moment holding the keys. Then the
other gentleman, who hadn’t said a word said, “Be on you
way kid, we ain’t got all day.”
At that, I began walking to the car. Needless to say, from
that day on, I worked for Lucky Don.

I told Paw Paw I found another job working at Tom

McCann shoe store. When he finally found out I was
working for Lucky Don we had this big fight. Paw Paw
told me that Lucky Don was a bad man. At the time of
our argument, I hadn’t seen the horrible things that he was
capable of doing. So I told Paw Paw both he and Lucky
Don were loan sharks, what makes him good and Lucky
Don bad. Now I’ll be honest, after I said that, I don’t
remember exactly what Paw Paw yelled out. What I do
remember is he slapped the shit out of me. I hit the floor
like a ton of bricks. I looked up in a daze and saw Paw
Paw coming at me. I scrambled to my feet and took off
running. I ran so fast, it was as if the wind was carrying
my feet. I never looked back. I kept running until I
reached Carolyn’s house.

Carolyn was the girl I had begun to see my last year of

high school, good old Carolyn. She was once the love of
my life. In fact, as I sit here with pen in hand, I admit all
these years later, it is still very difficult to talk about
Carolyn. I have very mixed emotions about her, some
hurtful, some joyful, like the birth of my son. Well, let me
stop myself before I go astray and lose my train of
thought. So let me take you back to the day Paw Paw
slapped me down.

I ran so fast to Carolyn’s house, I hardly felt my feet

touch the ground. I ran to her bedroom window and
tapped on it softly. When she didn’t open the window like
always, I wanted to go to the front door and ask for her,
but I couldn’t. I wasn’t allowed to see Carolyn. Her
parents didn’t approve of me. It wasn’t me they didn’t
approve of; it was Paw Paw they didn’t like. They said he
was a loan shark who took advantage of his own people.
Although Carolyn had told me dhat the reason Mr. Collins
didn’t like Paw Paw is because my father and he both
dated her mom Jane in high school.

Also, the fact that Paw Paw came back from Germany a
war hero and Mr. Collins felt the bosses at the cornfield
plant gave Papaw a job he should’ve been given. In time,
I would find that there were many who felt as Mr. Collins
did about PawPaw. In fact, now that I think about Paw
Paw, he didn’t really have any real friends. Most people
were around him because they needed him or feared him.
For one reason or another, people needed money.

Well it seems one of these so called friends didn’t pay on

time. That’s when Paw Paw found out about Ray’s place,
the gambling shack. To his surprise, he not only saw the
guy who owed him, he saw more than half the guys he
worked with, including Mr. Collins. Well, story has it he
began loaning money at work and from time to time, he’d
go up to Ray’s gambling shack to get his money from his
co-workers. Well, I believe Mr. Collins didn’t like Paw
Paw because he had to borrow money from him. In fact,
it was said that Paw Paw would brag about how he paid
for the Collin’s wedding. Well, at any rate the Collin’s
didn’t like Paw Paw therefore they didn’t want Carolyn to
see me. So I stood outside her window in the cold, my
face still stinging from Paw Paw’s slap. I’d been standing
outside Carolyn’s window about a half hour, when I saw
the van drive up. I ducked down so Mr. Collins couldn’t
see me. When I heard Carolyn fumbling around in her
room, I began knocking softly on her window again.

I knocked twice and like magic, the curtain came sliding

up. Carolyn saw it was me she opened the window. I
climbed in the window and landed on her floor. She
locked her bedroom door and began right away
undressing herself. Oh yeah, did I mention Carolyn was a
freak? She loved having sex. When I didn’t begin to take
my clothes off as well, like usual, she stopped and said,
“Wesley, is something wrong?”
I grabbed my face where Paw Paw had slapped me and
said, “Paw Paw hit me. I don’t know what to do. He had
no right doing me the way he did. He hit me like he
didn’t even know me.”
She asked why had Paw Paw hit me. I told her he’d
found out I was working for Lucky Don. Carolyn said,
“Didn’t I tell you that Lucky Don was going to be nothing
but trouble for you?”
I became angry at her words and said, “What the fuck do
you know? Lucky Don ain’t never done nothing to me.
It’s Paw Paw who slapped me. He had no right. I’m
nineteen years old. I can do what I want and work for
who I want to work for.”
Carolyn stood there half naked in silence. I knew she
wouldn’t dare say another word about the subject. She
knew I was hot as cayenne peppers, so she just stood there
with her pointed, firm titties and big hips.
I began looking at all that pussy, soon I forgot about
PawPaw’s slap and in no time I was deep inside her love
box. As I said Carolyn was a freak and did things to me I
still think about today. The good times as well as the hurt
remain with me. Carolyn Collins in her younger days was
a cold-hearted bitch. In fact, I believe if it weren’t for her,
I would’ve never encountered this thing, this monster as
PawPaw called it that lived inside of me. Damn! Look at
me talking about monsters. There are no such things. I
guess what I’m trying to say is that Carolyn knew how to
bring out the worst and the best in me. After PawPaw
slapped me, I began living with Carolyn. I worked during
the day and sometimes did little side jobs for Lucky Don,
nothing much, dropping off a package here and there.
Well at first anyway, that’s all I did, but in time, I would
become one of Lucky Don’s most trusted boys.

That was something to say since Lucky Don trusted

almost no one. Don used to say if a man trusted him, nine
times out ten, it turned out to be misguided trust. That’s
why he didn’t trust many people. Often he’d laugh and
say, “Hell, I don’t trust myself sometimes, why should
another mother fucka trust me.”

He’d always look at me and say, “Ain’t that right Wesly?”

I would stand there and smile, not knowing what to say.
Lucky Don had strange ways of testing people. He was a
sick man. He’d go pick up homeless people, dress them
up, feed them for a few days, and then take them by a
friend’s house and say they were snitches and blow their
heads off in the living room. He would tell the friend to
get rid of the body. The whole house would be in a panic.
Don would be on the phone ordering pizza. When he left
the friends house, he ‘d laugh to me and say, “I wonder
what they’re going to do with that body? Them square
mother fuckas damn near shit on themselves when his
brains hit the wall.” He‘d say, “Wesly, roll a joint. It’s
time for me to escape for a moment.”

Lucky Don was at his worst when he smoked weed. He

became paranoid. He would say that everyone was out to
kill him. It was at these times I didn’t want to be around
Lucky Don. He was very unpredictable. Once he killed a
man for asking to wash our car windows. He told him to
follow us in an alley. Lucky Don got out the car with a
butcher knife and stabbed this man more than forth times.
When he got back in the car, he said the guy had been
following us for five blocks. No one in the car told Lucky
Don we had only drove a block, and believe it or not, that
was just the tip of the iceberg. With Lucky Don, I’ve
wondered what it was like to see the world through his
eyes. He was such a twisted sick man. It makes one
wonder what did this to him. What ever it was, he sure
didn’t talk about it.

Lucky was a man of few words. As far as I know, he had

no family; He never talked about his childhood or past. I
believe that is why he survived as long as he did. All the
weakness that most men show, Lucky Don never showed.
No one could get at him through his family when there
was no family. This was something Lucky Don knew
well, as it was a game he played often. He had a saying,
if I can’t eat steak, I’ll have the chicken. That’s when
he’d kill whoever he was after, their mother, brother,
sister, whoever he saw first. He’d say, “It’s not who I
wanted but it’s close. Who knows, maybe the nigga will
show at the funeral and we’ll get two for one.”

Story has it that once he went to kill a nine year old kid, a
brother of one of his enemies. The guy he was with said,
“Wait a minute, I didn’t know this was a kid.”
It is said that Lucky Don turned on this man and said, “If
you care about this kid so much, then you carry him
through the gates of hell.”
He blew both their heads off. No one ever questioned
Lucky Don after that day.

Lucky Don was just as much genius as he was a

homicidal killer. Lucky Don built an empire by out
thinking everyone around him. Often I would watch him
drop off a kilo of drugs to a friend, and have that same
friend robbed for the kilo. The friend would call in a
panic saying he’d been robbed. Lucky Don would tell the
friend to calm down, and he would be right over. Lucky
Don would grab the same kilo he gave and robbed from
the friend and bring it back to him and say, “Don’t worry,
you can work it off. I’ll find out who did this, if it’s the
last thing I ever do. No one robs Lucky Don and lives.”
He would shake the friend’s hand and say, “Don’t worry,
I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
As we would drive off from the friends house, Lucky Don
would say, “Wesly, always keep a mother fucka in the
hole with you.”
Lucky Don was good at keeping people in the hole. I was
even in the hole with him. However, he didn’t trick me
into owing him. I sort of put myself in the hole. He
really got me out of a jam. In fact, I’m sure I’d still be in
jail today if it weren’t for him.
It is very difficult for me to talk about certain things in my
past. As I sit here over looking my estate, a changed man,
it is hard for me to think about the things that once made
me an animal, a bottom feeder. Often I look in the mirror
and I wonder really how far am I from being that vicious
bottom feeder again. After all, as Lucky Don used to say,
“All it takes is one minute of anger, just one minute of
anger to kill.” I remeber that one minute of anger. It was
raining outside, I was running in the rain in a full sweat.
I was angry and hot all over. I chased Joe Harris down
Hartemill Street with a 45 pistol in hand. He ran down
Clark Street and ran right to old man Johnson’s fence and
began climbing it. He never reached the top of the fence.
In my blind rage I shot off three rounds in Joe Harris’s
back. He was dead before he hit the ground. Without a
second thought, or even looking back to make sure he was
dead, I took off running. I didn’t know where I was
going. I was just running.

Twenty minutes later I was sitting on my grandparent’s

front stairs. My heart was beating like a racehorse. I was
trying to calm down, and at the same time not be so loud
that PawPaw or Grandma Wilma would hear me. It had
been six months since I’d last been at their house,
although, I made it a point to talk to Grandma Wilma once
a week. I hadn’t spoken a word to PawPaw since the
night of the slap. I began to think why had I even come to
their house. The truth of the matter is, I didn’t have
anywhere else to run to. I didn’t want to go to Carolyn’s.
After all, this whole thing was over her. Joe Harris,
earlier that night had beat me half to death over Carolyn
Collins. He swelled both my eyes shut, and stomped me
with his feet so hard, I’m sure he broke a rib or two.
When they carried me out the party, I looked at Joe and
said, “You won’t live to see the next sunrise.”
He spit in my bloodied face and called me a punk who
didn’t have enough heart to kill a fly that bugged me.
When I got outside the party, I was in so much pain, I
could hardly move. Carolyn came walking behind me,
crying, and holding her face. As Joe Harris had earlier
slapped her, she yelled out to me to wait for her.
I stopped walking and waited. When Carolyn reached
me, I asked her, “Why does Joe Harris tell people he’s
fucking you?”
Carolyn stood there in silence for a moment and said
softly, “Joe Harris is a liar.”
The fact was that Carolyn was the liar. Joe Harris had
been fucking her for months every chance he got,
whenever I was away with Lucky Don. I told Carolyn to
go home and that I would be there later. She started to
say something, but I cut her off and said, “I don’t want to
hear shit! Just go home.”
She turned and began walking home. I, on the other hand
didn’t know where I was going. I was, needless to say,
mad as hell at Joe Harris, but perhaps, not for the reasons
one would think. Sure he beat the shit out of me, and yes,
there was a damn good chance he was fucking my lady,
but the fact that he said I had no heart, and was a punk,
bothered me more than anything, because, deep down
inside, maybe what he’d said was true. After all, I would
never fight anyone, and in school, I’d backed down a few
times when it looked like I had to fight. In fact I even
backed down once to Joe Harris in high school. As I said,
I was walking, really not going anywhere in particular.
Somehow, I wound up at Lucky Don’s door.
It was almost 1am. I knocked on his door; He answered
the door with pistol in hand. He saw it was me all bloody,
and said, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

In a minute or so, Chuck and Sam his two bodyguards

came to the door. Chuck handed me a towel, as Sam went
to search the grounds with a pit bull. Chuck checked me
for weapons. After the usual search, I was let into the
house. Lucky Don was sitting on the sofa. I took about
five steps in the living room and Lucky Don held his hand
up and said, “Stop right there. What is it that you want
Wesly?”
I stood there with two black eyes, still in pain. I didn’t
know what to say because I didn’t know what I wanted. I
guess I kind of thought Lucky Don would have all the
answers. I mumbled the words, “I got into a fight.”
Lucky Don stood up from the sofa and said, “No Wesly, it
looks like you got your ass kicked.”
As he said that he told Chuck to go and get a gun. Chuck
brought the gun back and handed it to Lucky Don, He set
the gun on the table and said, “Now Wesly, I’ll admit I’ve
taken an ass wiping in my youth, but you had to whip me
the right way. Don’t black my eyes and shame me. If you
do, you’re going to come up missing. I hope you
understand what I’m saying to you.”
He picked the gun up off the table, and said, “If you have
some business to handle, here’s a friend that might be
useful to you.”
He handed the gun to me without a word. I took the gun
and walked out the door. Even though I had a gun. I
knew I wasn’t going to use it. I figured I would scare Joe
Harris with it.

Chapter 3

I walked back to the parti hoping to find Joe in the crowd.

When I finally made it back everyone was gone and Joe
was nowhere to be found. I decided to just go to a motel.
On the way I would pass by Carolyn house. As I walked
toward her house and rounded the corner I saw Joe Harris
climbing out of Caroline’s bedroom window. I decided to
stay in the shadows and follow him for a block or so. Joe
all of a sudden took out running, he must have spotted me
and that’s when I started my chase.

Three days later I was arrested and booked for the murder
of Joe Harris. I was lucky to have Don bail me out of jail.
Don also made sure no one from the party came to court
to testify against me. The D.A. decided to drop all
charges. I felt like I was in the hole to Lucky Don, you
know, like I really owed him something big. He told me
not to worry about owing him a favor, so I figured what
the hell, with what I had just been through how much
worst could it ever get. Besides I was out of jail and no
longer facing life in prison, now that had to be worth
something.

You know its funny the way things happen in life, or at

least in the “street life”. I’d gun down Joe Harris and it
was as if I’d become a movie star. People wanted to
shake my hand and told me how they hated Big Joe
Harris, and how he’d given them the beat down as well.

Even though today I look upon the killing of Joe Harris as

perhaps one of the worse things I’ve even done in my life.
I must admit, back then as a youth I found the fame and
attention very satisfying. Almost everywhere I went
people got out of my way when they saw me coming. It
was cool and in a strange way I felt powerful; I wished
my father could have been around to see what a big man
I’d become.

The stories about me acting like the big man around town
got back to Lucky Don. He came for me at Carolyn’s
house. Carolyn rented a room from Mr. Mansfield. Mr.
Mansfield kept a conservative house. You could have
company come by but he did not allow any sort of
trouble, or people who bought trouble around his house.
He almost shit on himself when he opened the door and
saw Lucky Don standing there in his from door. In fact
after that day Mr. Mansfield had Carolyn move. I guess it
was bound to happen. I mean she couldn’t keep me
hidden in her room forever.

Don showed up at Carolyn’s house and to my surprise he

was by himself, no bodyguards. I must have looked
surprised because he said, “damn Wesly you look like
you’ve just seen a ghost”.
I shook my head, and said “no there’s nothing wrong”.
Don nodded as if to say “Good”, then motioned toward
his El Camino hot rod truck as if to say “ Let take a ride”.
As I think back I loved that truck, it was candy apple red
with tan leather interior, sitting on 17 inch rims, with
music your could hear from at least two blocks away.
Lucky never played it that loud. The motor was a
masterpiece, chrome everywhere, the best high
performance shit money could buy. That El Camino ran
like a bat out of hell, like a scalded dog, yet Lucky Don
rarely raced it if there was no money on the line.

I remember when we would go to the street races and Don

would bet thousands on his El Camino. Lucky Don lost
very few times, it was a known fact that Don’s El Camino
was the fastest truck in town. Folks would come from
other town to race their rods against Lucky Don’s candy
apple red El Camino.

Lucky had come to Carolyn’s house looking for me, I got

in the truck and Lucky started his low to the ground flying
jet, and off we went. As we drove down the street I would
look over at Don once in a while to see if I could tell if he
was mad or if I could figure out what the ride was all
about. Lucky had never come to Carolyn’s house looking
for me before so I knew it must be important.

The silence broke and Don said, as he lit his cigarette

“Wesly, it only takes a minute of anger to kill. A coward
will kill if pushed hard enough”. He said “ Wesly don’t
go around calling yourself a killer if you can’t do it on a
consistent basis. A real killer, kills with controlled anger
and he doesn’t put himcelf in harm’s way while doing it.”

Don made a right turn onto Parker Street. He looked over

at me while making the turn. Lucky couldn’t have seen
what was in front of him because he took his eyes
completely off the road. Then with a smirk he spent the
tires on his monster of a truck. I just knew we were going
to crash and be killed. I lost my breath and began to
slump down in the seat. Lucky Don had lost control of
the truck. We were spinning out of control. Lucky was
fighting with the stirring wheel. I wasn’t interested in
taking bets on who would win. Somehow he pulled us
out of the tailspin. When the El Camino finally straighten
out Lucky looked over at me, and I was still shaken,
Lucky could tell. Lucky explained that a killer must also
be willing to face death as well as kill.

Parker Street was located in the warehouse district.

Warehouses and storage facilities lined the Parker Street.
While driving slowly down the street Lucky started
talking about renting a warehouse. I thought to myself “ I
had hoped the spin out of the wheels” would be what he is
talking about when he said in his calm tone, “A killer
must be willing to face death”.
I would soon find out that loosing control of the truck was
nothing compared to what he was talking about. Lucky
Don was a sick man. I’m talking about the one who flew
over the coo-coo’s nest. Unknown to me, he was one of
the most vicious serial killers a person would ever
encounter. God forbid anyone would ever go against
Lucky Don.
Don made a right turn into a warehouse parking lot off of
Parker Street. I spotted his Cadillac parked in the lot. He
pulled along side and said “ there’s a Sears duffle bag in
the back seat of the caddie, grab it for me”.
I stepped out of the El Camino still so shaken from the
spin out that I could hardly stand. I managed to somehow
walk toward the back seat of the car and grab the Sears
bag by the handle and followed Lucky into the
warehouse.
When we entered the side door of the warehouse I saw
Sam and Chuck, Lucky’s bodyguards. The light inside of
the warehouse was faint, but I could see Lucky’s ruff neck
bodyguards standing over a man who looked to be sitting
in a chair. As Don and I walked closer I could see that the
man was tied down to the chair and gagged. Don told me
to hand him the bag as we approached the three men. He
motioned to Sam and Chuck to keep an eye on things
outside.

The man in the chair began to struggle trying to free

himself when he saw Lucky Don. Sweat was rolling off
this man’s head the size of gulf balls. Lucky Don walked
up to the man and snatched the gag out of his month and
said “Morris is there something you want to say”?
The man yelled out “Please don’t kill me Don! I know I
fucked up, let me make it up to you. I’ll pay you all your
money back, I just need a little more time, please don’t
kill me man I got kids!”
Don slapped the man and said “ Shut the fuck up I don’t
want to hear about your damn kids! In fact you better be
glad I found your worthless ass at the train station. Or
sure as hell it would have been one of your kids tied to
this chair!”
Don slapped the man again and shoved the gag back in his
mouth. Don picked up the bag he had sat on the floor and
pulled out a pair of plastic coveralls, and goggles, and put
them on. Then he pulled a drill out of the bag, and a drill
bit that must have been twelve inches long. Don asked
me to get the extension cord off of the table and plug it
into the drill. I plugged the extension cord into the wall.
The sound of the drill made the man in the chair struggle
so hard he fell over onto the floor.
Lucky walked over to Morris struggling down on the
floor and acted out one of the most horribly vicious things
I’ve ever seen to this day. I’ve not seen anything more
vicious not even in any movie. Lucky fucked me up, to
this day when I think of the horror of Lucky Don running
the drill through the man’s ear out the other ear. The
picture will forever remain imprinted in my mind. I
remember blood and brains splattering all over the plastic
suit, he looked as though he had just slaughtered a cow.
The sight of it all almost made me pass out. I threw up at
the sight of all the blood and brains. As I bent over
throwing up my guts, Lucky Don walked over to me and
said “Wesly until you can get the stomach for killing you
are not a killer”. He looked at me with a very serious face
and said, “All this talk about Joe Harris is starting to
bother me you understand”?
I took a deep breath and agreed that I understood. Lucky
patted me on my back and said “good”, then he raised the
drill gun in the air and yelled out “there’s nothing in the
world like it Wesly! Craftsmen tools are the fucking best!
Another drill would’ve sized up or burned out. This
Craftsmen cut threw his head like a hot knife cutting
through butter!”
Lucky Don took off the goggles and overall suit, as he
walked toward the washroom, he told me to go and get
Sam and Chuck from outside. I stood in a daze not
believing what I’d just witnessed. Lucky Don turned
around and said “Come on Wesly, put a move on it, I need
things cleaned up quickly, so get your head out your ass
and go get Sam and Chuck!”

I remember the sick feeling I had as I walked to the door

to tell Chuck and Sam to come in. The moment I opened
the door and the air hit me, I fell to my knees and threw
up. Chuck walked over to me and said, “Stand up Wesley
and go behind the building if you have to throw up, it
draws to much attention out front like this”.
Chuck grabbed me by the arm and helped me to my feet.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and told
Chuck “ I’m okay now, I just needed some air”.
I let them know that Lucky Don wanted them inside. As
they walked in the warehouse I thought to myself, ‘I’ve
got to get away from Lucky Don.’ I wanted to take off
walking in hopes that I could forget what I’d just
witnessed. To this day I believe I should’ve went right to
the police or PawPaw or someone, anybody, who
could’ve gotten me away from Lucky Don, but I didn’t. I
felt I owed Lucky Don he helped me so much up until
now.

I had never talked to anyone about the horrors of Lucky

Don. I had worked for Lucky Don for less then three
years. In those three years I witnessed Lucky kill more
than nineteen men including Chuck his bodyguard. Don
said that Chuck was stealing from his drug house. Now to
this day I can’t honestly tell you if Chuck was stealing
money from Lucky or not. What I can tell you is after
many years of putting in work for Lucky Don big Chuck
as I called him didn’t deserve to die the way he did.

Lucky Don found out Chuck was skimming money off

the top. He called for Sam and told him to take Chuck
and go buy a wheelchair. When they brought the
wheelchair back to Lucky Don’s place, Don got into the
caddie and told them to go and look for Ricky Scott.

Both Chuck and Sam were sure that Lucky Don was
going to kill Ricky Scott, as he owed him money. They
drove to Ricky’s house. Lucky Don got out of the car
walked up to Ricky’s door and knocked. To everyone
surprise Ricky opened the door. Lucky Don said a few
words and turned and headed back towards the car. When
Don reached the car he stuck his head in the window and
said, “Let’s all go inside.”
He told Chuck to get the wheelchair out of the trunk and
bring it in the house. I walked in the house and the whole
place was dark. Don said, “Damn Ricky you got Dracula
staying with you? Pull back a shade or something. Let’s
have a little light in here”.
Ricky pulled a shade and at the same moment Don drew a
45 pistol and told Chuck to keep his hands on the
wheelchair. He put the gun to Chuck’s head. Chuck
stood there not saying a word he knew this day would be
coming. Sam stood there in shock as well. In all the
turmoil Ricky had pulled a gun on him. Don looked back
at Sam and explained this isn’t about you. I just don’t
want you to get emotional about good ole Chuck.

Lucky Don took a deep breath and said, “Chuck I

would’ve given you what you wanted all you had to do
was ask. You’ve killed for me, you’ve watched me kill,
and you’ve been loyal up until now. Chuck, you’ve been
not only stealing from me but you got two dope houses on
the Westside, hell I even hear you are loaning money
using my name!” Lucky Don looks at Sam and says
“What should we do Sam?” Sam just looked not saying a
work Lucky Don turned back to Chuck and said, “What
do you think I should do”?
Chuck just stood there still holding the wheelchair. Lucky
Don cleared his throat and said “…well I can’t kill you.
You just don’t kill niggas like you.”
Just as Lucky Don said that he put the gun to Chuck’s
face and said to Ricky “throw me your 22 pistol, this big
45 is to messy. Like I said, I don’t wanna to kill Chuck”.
Lucky Don shot Chuck threw one cheek out the next. It
shattered Chucks jaw bone then Lucky Don shot Chuck in
both of his knees. He threw Ricky back his gun. He
looked down at chuck and said, “Now live with that!”
As we walked out the house Lucky said, “Ricky its your
job to roll this nigga around in his wheelchair”.
Lucky Don had crippled Chuck for life, he couldn’t speak
or walk, but that wasn’t good enough for Lucky Don,
from time to time he’d have Ricky roll Chucks wheelchair
along with us to collect money from the dope houses he’d
opened on the Westside. Lucky Don would always
remind them that Chuck was disloyal and in many ways
they stood as a reminder of why he had to do this to his
friend, so they’d better pay on time. Lucky Don never
had any problems out of those Westside boys. They
always paid on time, but Lucky Don never trusted them.
He hated the fact that Chuck had gotten him involved
with them. It was his hatred that made him kill Chuck.
He had already crippled Chuck but as I said that wasn’t
enough, Lucky Don hated the sight of Chuck rolling
around in his wheelchair, until one day Don just blew it.

Don paid some young kids to roll Chuck up to Kingston

hill and leave him there. Lucky Don arrived moments
later with a can of gas. Don threw the gas on Chuck and
lit a match to him. Chuck screamed out for help, and Don
pushed him down the hill.

I look back on the killing of Chuck. That was the

beginning of the end for Lucky Don. Don tried to hide it,
but he was haunted by Chuck’s death, in fact up until the
day he died he never stopped talking about how Chuck
made him kill him. As for myself I didn’t think much
about Chuck’s death. I mean, sure he didn’t deserve to
die like that, but I felt what was done was don. I’d been
around Lucky Don too long to really care anymore.
Beside at that time Carolyn had become pregnant and
we’d gotten a small apartment after Carolyn lost her room
at Manfield’s place.

After Joe Harris, Carolyn and I seemed to get along pretty

good, in fact I often wondered if Carolyn had become
scared of me, she never look at another man; and when I
told her to do something she did it without question.
Carolyn was about the only person I trusted other than
grandma Wilma.

Hmmm, good ole grandma Wilma. I’d like to point out

that grandma Wilma stood by me no matter what. When I
told her I didn’t kill Joe Harris, and that it was a mistake
that’s why they released me, grandma believed me, she
never asked me about it. When I told her I wasn’t
working for Luck Don all she said was, “ Wesly if that’s
what you say I believe you, just be careful”.
About the only thing my grandma Wilma didn’t do is go
against PawPaw’s word. I knew when she said PawPaw
said, “no”, not to ask again.

Grandma Wilma was a moving force in my life. Often I

called her for her insight, in fact I wish she was around
today, I surely would’ve asked her advice on this story.
As I’m sure I’m not being broad enough. One might get
the idea that there weren’t any good people in my life. I
will admit that most of my past life was dark. My
grandma Wilma was the shinning star that brightened that
darkness. It still thrills my heart today that she had a
chance to spend her last days with my son William. I‘m
truly glad that William brought joy to my grandma
William was born April 7th, 1982. His birth was one of
the happiest days of my life. William’s birth also reunited
PawPaw and me. PawPaw was at the hospital when
William was born. To my surprise he greeted me with a
hug and a handshake, PawPaw asked me for his
forgiveness. From that day on PawPaw and I were back
talking to each other. There was no one happier than
Grandma Wilma. Grandma had a new great grandson,
and PawPaw and I were back talking.

I was glad PawPaw hugged me that day, for a minute I

thought about walking away when I saw him walking in
my direction. Now I’m glad I stayed and gave us a
chance to talk. Over the years PawPaw and I have
worked out a lot of our issues. Thinking about it, I admit
we still have some issues to overcome.

When William was born Carolyn spent a lot of time at

Grandma Wilma’s house. Between my grand parents and
Carolyn’s parents little William was well taken care of.
Life could not have been going better. I had a new son,
PawPaw and I were beginning to patch things up; and I
was hustling good money.
After Lucky Don killed Chuck I was promoted up to his
bodyguard along side Sam. I was making $1000.00 every
ten days. I also received kickbacks from those who asked
me to get them more time on their loans. I took the
money, but I didn’t make the mistake of not telling Lucky
Don about the kickbacks. There were times when he’d
say “Damn Wesly you’re making just as much money on
these kickbacks as I pay you”.

It was at those times when I didn’t take kicks backs.

Everyone had to pay on time or deal with Lucky Don.
Lucky didn’t mind me making a few bucks on the side as
long as I knew he was the Boss.

I never forgot Lucky was the boss. Hell I didn’t care who
was in charge. I was young and had two cars, my own
apartment and kept a fist full of money. In my eye’s I was
living large and things could only get better, and things
did get better for a while.

Lucky opened a new spot, called Lucky’s Place. I began

hanging out there keeping an eye on things. I had to keep
late hours, which Carolyn didn’t like. I remember there
would be times when Carolyn would drop the baby off at
her mom’s and come to the bar looking for me. It would
piss me off to see the frown on her face as she walked into
the bar. Carolyn would walk through the door asking me
what time I was coming home. We began fighting all the
time, not only over the hours I kept but she wanted me to
stop hustling and get a “real job” as she put it. The more
we fought the more I stayed out. Soon I began to feel that
Carolyn wasn’t such a down bitch; she’d turned into a
nag.

But, in reality she’d become a mother and her ideas and

views changed. In fact, we were no longer going in the
same direction. Carolyn had the motherhood thing going
on, and I had the gangster thing going.

Now in my eyes we could have worked things out if only

Carolyn could’ve just realized what I was trying to do.
Hell in my eyes Carolyn had nothing to fuss about.
Carolyn had a car of her own, an apartment, food in the
house at all times and we had saved about $23,000.00 in
hopes of buying a home and a restaurant. The baby had
everything he needed. I would think to myself, why
doesn’t she just keep her mouth shut. Why does she have
to nag so much? Needless to say, Carolyn moved back
home with her parents.

It was just as well, Carolyn’s and I weren’t getting along

and Carolyn’s mom wanted her and the baby closer to her.
When Carolyn moved out that seem to open up the
floodgates. I began to party and use weed on a regular
basis. I stayed at the bar to all hours of the night, and I
began seeing all sorts of wild women. I hardly saw
Carolyn and the baby at that time, but I sent money to
them every week.

It was Grandma Wilma who kept me updated on Carolyn

and William. Grandma would spend the weekends with
William she’d spend the weekends with them at the park
or shopping. As I look back I realize that I was so lost in
myself that I missed out on my son’s childhood. I
repeated the cycle my father started when I was a child,
drugs and partying.

Although I missed my son, at times I was glad he and

Carolyn left. Who knows what could’ve happened.
Someone could’ve been trying to get me and did
something terrible to them.

After Carolyn and I had been apart for six months she
sent word through Grandma Wilma for me to come to her
parents house. When I made it to her parent’s house I saw
Carolyn and William playing in the front yard. I opened
the gate and ran and picked up little William and threw
him high in the air. I had not seen him for a month or so,
and he was a sight for sore eyes. I look at my son that day
much the same way I look at him today. I thought to
myself where had all the time gone? He was two and a
half years old and I felt as if I barely knew him. Today
my son and I have what I think is a very good relationship
but I’m still learning who he is.

I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time with him in his

childhood, but I don’t want to take all the blame, it was
Carolyn as well. In fact it was Carolyn who separated me
from William not only by moving out, but by taking my
son out of the state and moving him to Chicago. That’s
why she had sent word to me. She was going to move to
Chicago with her parents.
The Collin’s had sold their home and wanted to move to
the mid-west, to Chicago, where they thought the living
would be better. Carolyn wanted to get married. Carolyn
wanted me to move to Chicago with them and buy a
house and settle down. I told her I would give it some
thought. In reality I wanted no part of it. I wasn’t moving
to Chicago or any place else. I was happy in Rose City,
California. I knew nothing else. As I walk backwards in
my mind if I would’ve left things would’ve turned out
differently, but then again who am I to second guess faith,
or destiny, hell it is what it is, perhaps my life was met to
be this way.

I’ve dwelled long enough on my lost opportunities with

William, I hope he has forgiven me not only in the words
he speaks of me, but more so in what is in his heart when
he thinks of me. As for my part I shall spend the rest of
my life learning who my son is. William still lives in
Chicago today. He’s now 22 years old, and has no
children and works for the Post Office.

I remember the day Carolyn and William left Rose City,

California, Carolyn begged me to come along, she even
had Grandma Wilma talk to me about moving to Chicago.
As I said earlier, I wanted no part of it, but I told Carolyn
I would be moving with them in a few months and for her
to go ahead without me. I then made one of the best
moves of my young life. I sent $5000.00 dollars with
Carolyn to live on and another $20,000.00 with Mr.
Collins as a down payment on a house for William and
Caroline. William still lives in that very house today.
I guess I don’t have to tell you I never made it to Chicago.
I stayed in California and fell deeper into drugs and
partying. Sometimes I would stay at Lucky Dons bar
overnight. I began snorting cocaine and gambling very
heavily. I was loosing money and soon had a hard time
maintaining my bills. I’d secretly made a deal with
PawPaw to collect money that he’d loaned for 15% of
what I collected it was easy since I was always at Ray’s
Gambling Shack. People knew I worked for Lucky Don,
even though I was making over $5000.00 per month.

I was barely getting by and I knew sooner or later Lucky

Don would find out about the deal I’d made with
PawPaw, things were falling apart. It wouldn’t get better
anytime soon. I was having money problems because of
my partying at the same time my Boss Lucky Don was
going crazy, he was intent on daking over the whole west
side of town.

He had always said he didn’t like them Westside cats. He

thought they were weak. That is why he had to kill
Chuck. Chuck got him involved with them. Now a year
or so later after Chuck’s death, Don thought he was
missing out on a lot of money by having only two dope
houses.

Lucky Don would say “I know some of them guys are

weak but I’ll make them strong”.
We put together a crew and began robbing dope houses all
over the Westside. We shot up the blocks they stood on to
sale the dope. We kidnapped and killed a few high
rollers. Lucky Don put the word out; anyone caught
selling drugs that didn’t belong to him would be smoked.

Then Lucky shut his own dope house down for a month,
he wanted things to cool down. Lucky also wanted the
dope fiends to suffer a little. Lucky said a drought on the
Westside would be good for business on the Eastside. He
was right, we began selling dope out of the bar hand over
foot. Lucky Don knew how to make money. He sold
everything, cocaine, weed, heroin, speed, upper, and
downers. Name the drug: Lucky, he had the drug. One
would think that Lucky was a rich man, the truth is, he
stayed in debt most of his gangster life.

Lucky worked for the unseen Colombians who supplied

him with drugs and money. I guess he learned how to
keep people in the whole with him from the Colombians,
because that is what the Colombians did to him. After a
month and half and a few more killings, Lucky Don
called a meeting on the Westside. Lucky told the
Westside bosses that their had to dance to his music ob
not dance at all. Lucky offered them a fair share of what
was once all theirs. He told them that in his eyes there
were a lot of weak snitches on the Westside. He went on
to say anyone who kills a snitch has a place on his team.

It seemed as though a lot of cat’s wanted to be on Lucky

Don’s team. In 1983 the F. B. I. Put out a report that said
Rose City, California had the most unsolved murders in
the United States, for a city of its size. There were
murders left and right. Lucky Don loved what was
happening. Don would say, “A dead snitch is the only
good snitch”.
I for one was glad Lucky Don had his mind on the
Westside. As long as he had his mind on the Westside
boys I figured he wouldn’t find out about the side deals
I’d made.

I was walking on thin ice, I not only had Lucky Don to

worry about, but I had to worry about all of the enemies I
had made being one of Lucky Don’s boys. I had to watch
my back everywhere I went. I kept a loaded gun and
stayed ready for some drama at all times. With Lecky
Don’s approval I put together a crew of my own, a few
die heart youngsters who didn’t give a fuck about dying.
I’d called them flesh dummies cause they’d take a bullet
for me in a heartbeat; and a few of them did. When one
did, there was always another to replace him. When one
of my flesh dummies got shot or killed I didn’t give it a
second thought, it was the nature of the business. It was
their job; after all, I was Lucky Don’s very own flesh
dummy.

I knew that if you wanted to be a true gangster you had to

be willing to kill or be killed. As I look back on my life it
has been full of a lot of death and destruction. I often
wonder what Mr. Marshall thinks of what he once called
his boy wonder.

Mr. Marshall was my high school coach for baseball. I

was once a star pitcher for the Marshall Bears. I could
throw a fastball like nothing he’d ever seen. He would
often say, “Wesly if you keep pitching like this, sooner or
later the scouts will come calling.”

The truth is the scouts never came calling and by my

senior year I quite baseball all together. Mr. Marshall
begged me to play my last year in high school. He knew
the scouts would come.

Its funny how our lives go, I mean one minute you’re
living a childhood dream and the next minute you’re
murdering someone over a childhood sweetheart. I
question nothing, I’m just happy to be alive. That is more
than I can say for Lucky Don and many other faceless,
nameless people who’ve cross my path in this journey we
call life. I remember the day I got the news about Lucky
Don’s death.

Chapter 4

I’d just waken up from an all night party. I’d sent Mark,
one of my flesh dummies for coffee and donuts. When he
returned he was in a panic, he said there was a bunch of

Niggas with guns were coming this way, I ran to my

window to check it out, and told Mark to wake everyone
up and bring me my 45 automatic. Just as Mark handed
me my gun I saw Big Jake Brown and six other men
walking towards my apartment with guns in hand. I
wondered to myself what these Westside punk’s wanted. I
told Mark to hand me the phone, I needed Mark to stand
at the window and keep his eye on them, and if they get
close blast them; and we would ask question later.

I called Lucky Don’s house to find out what was going

on. Who knows maybe Lucky Don had found out about
my side deals and sent Big Jake for me. At any rate I had
to talk to Lucky to find out what was going down.
Lucky’s phone rang, and rang, until finally someone
answered, it was Sam. When he answered his voice
sounded scratchy and low. Just as he said, “who is it”? I
heard gunshots ring out, it was Mark and my other boys
letting them Westside punk’s have it. I hit the floor with
my gun in one hand and the phone in the other. I yelled
into the phone, “Sam is that you”?
“Yeah Wesly its me!”
“What the fuck is going on these Westside niggas is over
here trying to kill me”.
Sam answered, “They shot up the bar this morning too”.
“Where the hell is Lucky Don?”
Sam said nothing for a moment. I yelled into the phone as
the bullets ricocheted off the walls everywhere, “Answer
me Sam! What’s going on?! Did Lucky send these
motherfuckas for me?!”
Sam said, “Lucky Don was killed by F.B.I. agents last
night.”
It seems that those Westside brothers not only wanted
their corner back they want it all. Sam told me to meet
him at Lucky Don’s house in two hours and for me to
bring my crew. As the bullets continued to bounce of my
walls, I thought to myself easier said than done. I told
Sam if I made it out alive I’d be there.
I threw down the phone and crawled to a back room, I
yelled for my boys to climb down the fire escape with me.
The five of us went down the fire escape, as I ran down
the back alley, behind my apartment, my mind was going
out of control. I felt like my world was coming to an end.
Sure I’d been in a shoot out before. In the past I had
always been looking for someone or my crew would be
on the look out for someone. To be attacked in your own
home is an eye opening experience. But, what goes
around comes around.

I was scared and mad at the same time. I also couldn’t

believe the great Lucky Don was dead, killed by F.B.I.
agents. I ran all the way to PawPaw’s house. I told my
boys to wait on the corner for me and make sure we
weren’t followed. I knocked at PawPaw’s door and wiped
the sweat from my face and tried to calm myself down.

The door opened, Grandma Wilma was standing there

with a great big smile on her face. She motioned for me
to come in. Grandma said, “I was just thinking about you,
Carolyn sent me some pictures of her and the baby.”
I hardly heard a word Grandma said. Instead, I searched
the house for PawPaw. I knew he was there I saw his car
in the driveway. I began sweating again and looking
wildly about the house. Grandma Wilma looked at me
and said, “Lord Jesus what’s wrong with you Wesly”?
I said, “ Don’t worry Grandma, nothings wrong, I just
need to talk to PawPaw”.
Grandma pointed to the back door and said, “He’s been
sitting out there all morning”.
I walked out the back door. PawPaw was sitting in his
rocking chair. When he saw me coming he stood up and
said, “I’m glad Lucky Don is dead. He had a chock hold
on this town for too long. Its you Wesly I’m worried
about. What are you gonna do now?”
I shook my head and said, “I don’t know PawPaw, I don’t
know much of anything right now. But one thing I do
know, it is not safe for me in Rose City anymore.”

PawPaw asked how could he help? I told PawPaw he

could lend me his car. Beyond that there was nothing he
could do. PawPaw gave me his keys, I told him I’d be in
touch. I hugged PawPaw and headed back into the house.
My Grandma Wilma had been standing in the back
doorway all the time. She asked, if everything was okay,
I smiled and said, “Everything is all right Grandma.”
As I kissed her on her cheek, had If I’d known that would
be one of the last time I’d see my Grandma Wilma, I’d of
hugged her tight enough to take her breath away. I would
have told her how much she meant to me. She handed me
a picture of my son William and told me she loved me as I
walked out the front door. My last words to her were “I
love you too, Grandma.”
I walked to the driveway and jumped in PawPaw’s Ford,
and headed for the corner to pick up my boys.
I began to sweat again when I reached the corner and
didn’t see anybody; it seem as though they were all gone.
Out of nowhere my boys came out from the bushes. They
ran to the car and piled in. They begin yelling that the
police were everywhere.
I took the back roads to Lucky Don’s house. I stopped at
a phone booth and called Sam at Lucky Don’s house to
tell him we were five minutes away. When I reached
Lucky Don’s house one would’ve thought there was a
party or something going on. I’d never seen so many cars
at Lucky’s house. I knocked at the door. Sam was
standing there and welcomed me and the There were 15 to
20 guys standing around, I looked into each man’s face
and didn’t recognize anybody. I pulled Sam to the side
and asked him who all these niggas were. Sam told me
that they were bosses from other towns Lucky Don ran.

Lucky Don was larger than I thought. I thought he only

ran Rose City, but he had irons in the fire all up and down
the West Coast, from Los Angeles to the Bay Area. It
seems they all came to wait for a call from the
Columbians to see who would be named as the new boss.
Everyone was drinking, smoking weed and listening to
music. No one even talked about Lucky Don. I asked
Sam about Lucky’s death. Sam explained that he’d
dropped Lucky Don off at the airport. Lucky Don was
going back east to set up shop. Sam said that Don had
friends back east that would help him take over a small
neighborhood. He would start his take over from that
small neighborhood. Sam also explained that as he drove
off he looked in the rear view mirror and saw FBI agents
everywhere. Moment’s later gunshots rang out and Lucky
Don fell to the ground.
 Chapter 5

January 13, 1984, Donald Martin also known as Lucky

Don was gun down in a hail of bullets. FBI later said to
reporters that Donald Martin’s death was only the
beginning of an all out war on drugs and crime in our
communities. The FBI went on to say that there is no
place for the Donald Martins of the world to hide. They
would find them all.

I am haunted by those words and everyday I wake, often

I’ve set up many a sleepless night gazing out of my front
door, thinking; will it all come crashing in. I wonder to
myself if I’ve done a good enough job hiding my identity.

That’s a laugh, who am I really. I’ve been in therapy for

the last three years trying too figure out who I really am.
I still haven’t quite put my finger on it. The best way I
can explain it is the way I see it. Life is nothing more
than a collection of moments. There for, our lives are
momentary situations in life that make us who we are.
Yesterday I was a murdering animal. Today I’m a
professor at an Ivory League college.

Once again I’ve enlightened you on a few things but don’t

think my story has been completely told. In fact let me
take you back to the day Lucky Don died. All the bosses
were waiting on a call from the Columbians. Everyone
was kicking back drinking and smoking weed, you could
cut the tension with a knife. Then the phone rang, and the
room grew silent. Every eye in the house was on Sam’s
face when he answered the phone. By the look on Sam’s
face you could tell it was the Columbians. Sam said three
words, “they’re all here” and hung up the phone.

Sam turned to everyone and said “Carlos is on his way,

everyone just sit tight”.
The room grew with intensity, no one spoke; everyone
just eye balled each other, perhaps wondering who would
be named boss. As I looked around I even began to
wonder why I was there? I was s small fry, I mean sure
I’d put in work for Lucky Don, but as I said, up until that
night I’d been nothing more than a foot solder. A “Flesh
Dummy”; I figured Sam wanted me there as his back up.
I would find out that I was not only there for back up. I
was also there for clean up.

Sam had told me tell the boys to go upstairs and no matter

what, don’t come down until they were called for, I did as
Sam said. I didn’t know why, but I still didn’t ask any
questions. Moments later there was a knock at the door,
Sam whispered to me to stay behind him and watch his
back. I followed close behind as he walked to the door
and opened it. There stood three Columbians dressed in
all black.

They didn’t say a word they just walked in. All eyes were
on them. One of the men had the top part of his left ear
sheared off. The lobe supported a one-carat diamond
stud. He was a tall dark skin man who looked to be forty
something. His voice was low and scratchy. This was
Carlos the man everyone was waiting on. He looked at all
the men standing in the room and said, “ My name is
Carlos. I don’t know any of you except for Sam. But if
you are apart of Lucky Don’s family then all of you are
my family as well. May God bless Lucky Don’s soul, He
was a good man, but Lucky Don is no longer with us and
there is still much work to be done. Someone will have to
fill his shoes. Whoever the new boss is he must know that
Lucky Don owed my people and me eleven million
dollars and that debt has to be paid in full and on time.
Now, as I said, I don’t know anyone in this room other
than Samuel. I stand in judgment of no one. But know
this; Sam is as good a boss as anyone. Know this; I was
not sent here to pick a boss. The vote will be up to you for
a new boss. I was sent here to see who is going to pay the
eleven million dollars. We don’t care who pays as long as
it’s paid.”

When Carlos finished talking Sam stepped up and said,

“Who among you wants to be boss?”
Now as clear as I can remember six guys out of the
twenty raised their hands. That’s when all hell brook
loose.

The two Columbians that came with Carlos pulled out

oozes and mowed all six of the men down. They shot one
of them so many times his body was literally cut in half.
Everyone was jumping for some cover. I stood right
behind Sam who was standing behind the shooters. I
looked and saw my boys standing at the top of the stairs
with their guns in hand but they didn’t come down when
the shooting stopped. Carlos then said to the men left
standing, “Is there anyone else here that wants to be
boss?” no one said a word. After a moment of silence
Carlos turned to Sam and said, “We will be expecting
payment in two weeks.” Then the three of them walked
out the door.

When the Columbians left Sam said’ “I’m the boss now,
but nothing will change, the same deal you had with
Lucky Don you have with me. I expect to be paid on time
and in full, cause I’m sure you heard that’s the way the
Columbians want to be paid”. He then looked at everyone
and said, “It’s night and police cars are everywhere so be
careful when you leave town, I’ll be in touch with each of
you soon.”

When everyone left, Sam told me to call my boys down

from upstairs, they came running down, Sam looked at all
of them and said, “you guys showed a lot of discipline
staying upstairs while all that shooting was going on, I
like that”. He then looked at me and said, “Wesly let’s get
this mess cleaned up, I’ve got someone waiting for you at
the city dump.“ He then looked down at all six of the dead
men and said “Take this trash to Fat Tony at the dump and
come right back here. I have some things to talk over with
you.”

My boys loaded all six bodies in a van. I followed close

behind them in PawPaw’s Ford as they drove to the dump.
We dropped the Van off to Fat Tony’s and headed back to
Lucky Don’s house. I can remember the whole ride back,
all I thought about was how Sam was so much like Lucky
Don. I mean having those six men killed was a page right
out of Lucky Don’s book. I must admit I never really
took the time to get to know Sam he was a quite big man.
Sam seemed to be always lifting weights or working out.
Come to think about it he was just like Lucky Don he
never really had much to say. He kept an empty face,
maybe that’s why Lucky Don never really trusted Sam,
and they were so much alike. I wondered what Sam had
in store for me. I wondered what our talk would be about.
When we got back Sam sent my boy’s for big Jake’s head.

Chapter 6

Lucky Don had allowed the guys on the Westside to grow

causes he didn’t care for the Westside. He’d only just
gotten control of the Westside only four months earlier.
Now Lucky Don was dead and big Jake wanted his corner
back. As my boys left with dreams of running Big Jake’s
empire, I knew that I would not see any of them again. I
was sure they’d be killed. Big Jake had to many ‘flesh
dummies‘. Nobody would be able to get within two feet
of Big Jake. After my boys left, Sam told me to make a
few drinks

I headed for Don’s bar cabinet, and made us two rum and
cokes. I remember as I handed Sam his drink, he looked
at me and shook his head, he told me to have a seat, I sat
down, Sam began pacing the floor back and forth. Pacing
the floor was a habit he’d picked up while he was in
prison. Often I’d seen Lucky Don pace the floor in the
same way. I guess it was a jail thing. I sat there sipping
on my rum and coke. Wondering what was about to
happen, Sam paced the floor for about ten minutes
without saying a word, then he stopped and turned to me
and said, “Wesly I want you to know that Lucky Don did
send Big Jake to kill you.”
When I heard that I almost dropped my drink on the floor.
I became nervous, I started to shake I couldn’t hold my
hand steady, I’m sure I spilled more than half my drink on
the floor. I began to sweat. Sam saw that I was spooked
by what he’d just said. He said, “don’t worry Wesly I’m
not going to let Big Jake kill you, I’ll be giving him a call
in the morning if he is still alive. I mean who knows;
maybe one of your boys will get to him before morning.
At any rate I don’t want you to worry about Big Jake.”
Just as Sam said that he noticed I’d spilled most my drink
he asked if I’d like another drink? I said “Yes, but this
time I’ll take it straight, no chaser”.

As Sam fixed my drink he said, “ Wesly what do you

think about a man who steals from his friends?”
I didn’t know how to answer that since I’d been stealing
from Lucky Don for the past ten months. I cleared my
throat and said, “I don’t know what to say Sam, I got
behind in a few bills because I missed managed my
money, one thing lead to another, before I knew it I was
doing side deals of my own.”
Sam handed me my drink and said, “Wesly, I didn’t ask
you why you did or what you did, I asked you what do
you think about a man who steals from his friends?”
I took a big drink and said; “I guess the best way I can
answer that is to say sometimes a man has to do what he
has to do”.
When I said that, Sam raised his drink in the air and said,
“Here’s to a man doing what a man’s got to do”. He
looked at me and said, “Wesly I agree with you, a mans
gotta do, what a mans gotta do, that’s why I dropped a
dime on Lucky Don. I called the Fed’s and told them
he’d be at the airport with gun’s and drugs on him”.
Sam downed his drink and yelled out, “ I hated Lucky
Don and I’m glad he’s dead”.
My mouth dropped open. I was in shock, I couldn’t
believe the things Sam was saying, Sam had set Lucky
Don up.
He walked over to the bar and mixed the both of us
another rum and coke. As Sam handed me my drink he
said, “Wesly somebody had to stop Lucky Don. When he
told Big Jake to kill you, that’s when I decided enough
was enough. I stood by and watched Lucky Don kill to
many good men. I’ve never forgot Chuck, and I sure as
hell wasn’t going to stand by and let him kill you. You’re
a good kid Wesly, you never should’ve gotten involved
with Lucky Don. I hope the things you’ve seen him do are
washed away from your mind in time.”

It’s funny because even today as I think of Lucky Don I

can hear Sam’s voice saying in time Lucky Don’s
memory will be washed away. All I can say is it’s been 25
years, damn! How long will time take? I use to wiggle
around in my seat at church. I could never keep still in
church. Every five minutes or so I’d ask my grandma
Wilma how much longer? Grandma would say “Sit still
Wesly and be quite the preachers talking, It’ll be just a
little while longer.”
All my life it seems I’ve had to endure things for just a
little while longer.

Samuel finished his drink and headed for the bar to make
another rum and coke. He never stopped pacing, I could
tell Sam was very uptight, as he paced he said to me
Wesly Lucky Don was an evil man, I believe he could’ve
been the devil himself. Sam told me that once Lucky Don
had taken him to collect money from two brothers who
worked for him, the Carter brothers.

When we got to their house Lucky was greeted by one of

the brother’s wives, Doreen. Doreen was pregnant at the
time. Doreen told Lucky Don that she hadn’t seen her
husband Louis in four days and she didn’t know where he
was. When she said I’d tell him to give you a call when
and if he comes here, Lucky Don smiled and pushed his
way into the house. Lucky grabbed Doreen by her throat
and said, “You tell that lousy mother fuckin’ husband of
yours I want my money in two days!”
Lucky yelled his words as if he knew Louis gas hiding in
the house. As Lucky Don turned to walk out the front
door he slapped Doreen so hard blood flew from her nose
and she hit the wall and slid down to the floor, as we
walked out the front door.
Doreen slammed the door so hard it broke the glass in the
door and that enraged Lucky Don. He turned around and
kicked down the whole door and ran in the house and
grabbed Doreen by her hair and dragged her up the stairs.
He dragged her up the stairs and threw her on the bed and
began to rape and beat her in the head. Her husband
Louis who had been hiding in the closet all this time ran
out with a knife and tried to stab Lucky Don. Somehow
Lucky Don was able to take the knife away from Louis.
Lucky Don yelled for me and I came running upstairs
with my gun in hand. Lucky Don began yelling at me he
said, “what the fuck are you doing!? You’re suppose to
be watching my back!” as he pressed the knife harder
against Louis throat, “Our friend Louis just tried to kill
me. Get your head out your ass and watch this
motherfucker while I finish with Doreen!” I put my gun to
Louis’s head as Lucky Don raped his wife.

When Lucky Don finished up with Doreen, he tied Louis

up in a chair and began to beat him and asked for his
money. After an hour or so of being beaten Louis finally
admitted that his older brother Richard had run off with
the money and was nowhere to be found.

Upon hearing that, Lucky Don stopped beating Louis and

said “You know you’re going to have do work it off?”
Louis shook his head yes. Lucky Don smiled and said
“You could’ve told me in the first place your brother ran
off with the money instead of hiding in the closet.”

Lucky Don then turned and began walking towards

Doreen who was still laying on the bed bleeding. As he
sat on the bed he said “I’ll be back in two days, but before
I leave I think I’ll have just a little more of your wife’s
pussy.”
At that Lucky Don mounted Doreen once again as he
stroked her he said to Louis “I can see why you married
this tight pussied bitch.” As he pulled out of her pussy he
asked Louis “How’s the head? Can she give good head
Louis?” He then shoved his manhood down Doreen’s
throat. She began to choke and then threw up all over
Lucky Don. When she did that he went crazy, he pulled
the knife he’d taken from Louis earlier and began
stabbing Doreen in the face, neck, head, chest, legs, arms
and there was blood everywhere.
Louis fought to get out the chair, I held him down, when
Lucky Don stopped stabbing Doreen, he turned to Louis
and said “You got two days or the same will happen to
you! And you tell that stinken’ brother of yours I’m
coming for his ass! I’ll find him!”

Louis sat still in the chair with tears rolling down his face.
Lucky Don said with a smirk on his face”Oh I see you
miss your family already. They’re dead because you
can’t handle your business! Any man puts his family in
harms way doesn’t deserve to live.” As Lucky Don said
that he walked back over to Doreen’s dead body, took the
knife he was holding and cut the baby out of her stomach
then took the umbilical cord and strangled Louis to death
with it.

Sam was shaking as he told me the story. Sam said they

sat in the house for two more hours waiting on Fat Tony
to come pick the bodies up and take them to the dump.
After Fat Tony took the bodies, Lucky Don set the house
on fire and burned it to the ground.

On the ride home Lucky Don went on and on about how

good Doreen’s pussy was and how he had to kill them.
As Sam told the story he began to not only shake he was
also sweating like a man on his way to the electric chair.
He downed his third rum and coke and headed to the bar
for another. As he fixed his fourth rum and coke he shook
his head and said “I’ve seen Lucky Don do a lot of sick
shit, but that day I’ll never forget.”

I shook my head and said “Yeah, I know what you mean.

To this day I can still see Lucky Don putting the drill
threw that man’s head.” I know exactly how Sam felt.
Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead and said “Wesly,
the way I see it Lucky Don owes me and I’m going to get
what’s mine. I have a plan and I need your help to pull it
off.” I began to wonder just what kind of plan Sam had,
and I sat and listened as Sam told me about his plan. He
told me that Lucky Don owed the Columbians more than
eleven million dollars and that he’d made arrangements to
pay the money, as he was sure I’d seen earlier. Sam said
he was going to raise the money and pay the eleven
million dollars off and then disappear with the next
shipment from the Colombians, which would be worth 22
to 28 million dollars. Sam knew the Colombians would
be bringing in a shipment of guns. He wanted to rob them
for the guns, and that’s where I came in.
Sam wanted me to pick up the shipment of drugs and
keep the Colombians busy while he arranged to have the
shipment of guns stolen. I thought my part was easy
enough at the time. Had I known at the time what my
small part would ultimately cost me I would have never
agreed to keep the Colombians busy. For my part, I was
to receive fourteen kilos of cocaine, twenty mini fourteen
rifles and a hundred thousand dollars in cash. I was more
than happy to help Sam out. I figured I’d take my cut and
lay low for a while. You know, go see the world, have
some fun, maybe drop in on my son and Carolyn and
throw a little cash their way. I figured I’d lay low for a
year or so to let things cool down. I know the
Colombians would be looking for their drugs and guns.

After a year or so I would resurface from underground,

build myself an army and become one of the biggest
kingpins this world has ever seen. To become a big time
gangster was one of my fantasies at the time. I wanted to
be just like Lucky Don, even bigger. I was sure I could be
bigger. For the rest of the day Sam and I drank rum and
coke and went over every detail of our million - dollar
plan. I passed out from having so many drinks.

I was awakened thirteen hours later by the phone ringing.

I picked up the phone and said, “Hello who is this?”
When I heard the voice on the other end of the phone, my
heart almost jumped out of my chest. I had only heard the
voice a few times, but I knew as sure as water is wet
who’s voice it was.
It was Big Jake Brown on the other end of the line. He
was yelling, “Its me Jake Brown, is this Sam?” My heart
still beating like a racehorse, I cleared my throat and said,
in a deep voice, “No this ain’t Sam this is Tony Reno
from Reno”.
Jake asked me where Sam was, I answered in my low
voice, “Sam told me to tell you to meet him on Hammond
and Fairoaks street in one hour and for you to come by
yourself because the police are all over the place. When
you get there, use the phone booth and call him and he’ll
tell you where to go from there. You know he doesn’t
want to be seen, and he knows the police may be looking
for him.” Jake Brown said he would be there and hung up
the phone. When I hung up the phone to my surprise Sam
was standing right behind me. I’m sure he over heard
everything. When I looked at him he smiled and said
“Big Jake ain‚t anybodys fool. Don’t believe for one
minute he’s going to show up by himself. There will be
others with him real close by so keep your eyes open.”
I took Sam at his word, after all he knew Jake Brown
better than I did. I shook my head yes and headed for the
door. As I turned the doorknob, Sam asked if I was taking
a friend along with me. That was his way of asking me if
I had a gun. That was our code we picked up from Lucky
Don. He called all his guns ‘friends’ and often he’d say,
“A man with no friends could very easily be a dead man.
So keep your friends close.” In answer to Sam’s question
I turned around and showed him my 45 pistol. As I
started to head out the door Sam told me not to leave and
wait a minute for him. He turned and walked up stairs,
moments later he returned with a mini fourteen gun. He
handed it to me and said, “Here’s a better friend”. I
grabbed the gun tucked it in my paints and said,
“Thanks”.

I headed out the door. I figured I had no time to waste, as

I was sure Big Jake would try and come early so that he
could position his Flesh Dummies near by. As I drove
PawPaw’s Ford to Fairoaks and Hammond, I decided to
park around the corner so that no one saw me come or
leave. I figured I would walk around the corner and catch
Big Jake slipping (not watching his back). I caught them
slipping sure enough. As I drove down Clairmont looking
for a parking spot, low and behold; guess who I saw
trying to climb out the window of a wrecked 76 Chevy, a
glass house is what they call them.

Jake and his boys had wrapped themselves around a

telephone pole. I pulled PawPaw’s Ford over and jumped
out and ran right down the middle of the street with the
mini fourteen in hand. Now that I think about it I was not
more than ten feet away when I started to let off rounds
into that 76 Chevy. When it was all said and done I’d let
off more than 35 rounds in that old Chevy. Big Jake
Brown and two of his nameless faceless Flesh Dummies
lay dead in the middle of Clairmont riddled with bullets.

I have not thought about that day more than five or six
times since it happened. I still remember the way Big
Jake Brown’s head exploded as he was hit by the bone
shattering mini fourteen round. Jake’s head exploded like
fireworks on the Fourth of July. I jumped back into
PawPaw Ford and headed back to Lucky Don’s.

I gotta admit I was as nervous as a hooker in church. The

police were everywhere. I just knew I’d never make it
back across town to Lucky Don’s house. I knew I was
going to end up in jail for the rest of my life. As I drove I
began do think of my son William and Grandma Wilma.
How they were going to need me. I also didn’t want my
Grandma to have to face the fact that her grandson was a
killer.

Needless to say I made it back to Lucky Don’s house.

When I walked in the house my heart was pounding with
excitement and I started looking around the house for
Sam. I looked everywhere and he was nowhere to be
found. I began to get worried that the police had come for
him. I thought maybe they would be coming back so I
took the mini fourteen I killed Jake Brown and his boys
with and hid it in the backyard. I walked back in the
house and to my surprise Sam was standing in the kitchen
eating a sandwich. As I walked to the dining room table
to take a seat. Sam said, “Since you’re here I trust
everything went well?” I nodded my head yes and said,
“When are we going to do this thing with the
Columbians? I need to get out of town for awhile”. Sam
took a bite of his sandwich and said, “Soon. Very soon. In
a few days”. I wish we could have done it right then that
day.” I wanted to get out of Rose City not only because I
had killed Jake Brown and his boys; it was time to move
on. Besides I was ready to make my own mark on the
world and with the money and drugs from the
Columbians I was getting ready so I thought.

For the next week I stayed at my grand parents house and

enjoyed being around my Grandma Wilma. I missed my
grandma’s cooking while I was gone so I made sure not to
miss a meal for the week I was there. I must of gained
fifteen pounds.

To this day PawPaw and I talk of that week as perhaps the

best week of our lives. It was the last time I would eat
any of my Grandma Wilma’s food. I also got a chance to
talk things over with PawPaw and explained that I would
be leaving town for a while and that I would keep in touch
with him and grandma.

I could not tell him where I was going. The truth is, I was
going nowhere fast. Man, if I could only turn back time.
I have never been one to fantasize but sometimes I wish
I’d never been born in this time frame. As I am sure I
would have been a prince in another place and time. The
week at my grandparents house past so quickly. I got the
phone call from Samuel he said that it was time, the
Columbians were in town and that I was to meet them in
front of Lucky Don’s bar in four hours.

I hung up the phone my heart was racing. Thoughts of

money and riches consumed my thoughts as I ate
breakfast. That morning I looked at my grand parents and
told them both I loved them and that one day soon I
would make them proud of me. To this day it saddens me
to know that my Grandma Wilma didn’t get a chance to
see me get my teaching degree. Damn, here I go again
jumping to far ahead. Let me take you back to the day I
picked the Columbians up.

I pulled in front of Lucky Don’s bar. Sam and two

Columbian Nationals were standing out front of the bar.
Sam walked them over to the car and introduced them as
the Diaz Brothers. Sam told them to get in the car with
me. He told them that I was going to take them shopping
and that he would meet us later with the 11 million dollars
he owed them. Sam then asked me to open the trunk of
my car. I got out the car and walked to the back and as I
opened my trunk Sam whispered to me that the bag he
was putting in the trunk was the 11 million dollars he
owed the Columbians. He wanted me to keep them busy
until he called me, which would be after he had stolen the
guns. I shook my head yes not knowing that Sam was
playing me like a guitar. I jumped back in the car and
looked at the Columbians like the joke was on them, little
did I know.

I drove them from mall to mall and I watched them spend

money like it wasn’t even money. They threw it around
like it had no value. I thought to myself dame it must feel
good to be rich. After about three hours of riding around I
began to sense the Columbians were getting restless.
They started asking for Sam in broken English. I was
beginning to get worried and I knew from the seen at
Lucky Don’s house a week earlier that these Columbians
didn’t play games. I was beginning to sweat because I
had no way to reach Sam. I didn’t have his cell phone
number I had to wait on his call.

Finally my cell phone rang, it was Sam. He wanted me to

bring the Diaz Brothers over to Lucky Don’s warehouse.
My blood began to boil. I hated that warehouse. I called
it “Lucky Don’s Warehouse of Horrors”. I witnessed him
kill four men in the warehouse in everyway from beating
a man to death with a hammer, to putting a foot long drill
bit threw a man’s head. I shuddered at the thought of
even going to the place. I told Sam that I would be there
in fifteen minutes. When I pulled up in front of the
warehouse Sam met me. He walked up to the car and
leaned down and said, “Take them inside, I’m going to
park the car out back. I’ll meet you inside.” Sam told the
Diaz Brothers to go with me. Sam walked toward his car
and jumped in and headed for the back of the warehouse.

I got out of my car and headed for the warehouse. As I

walked I began to hear footsteps. I looked back and
thought to myself “Holly shit it’s the police!” There must
have been twenty of them. I took off running toward the
warehouse and opened the doors and there stood six
federal agents with guns drawn. I was told to lie on the
ground. As I was being hand cuffed I saw the police
putting the two handcuffed Diaz Brothers in the police
car. This is when it hit me they didn’t have anything on
me. I mean, sure I had a bag of money in my trunk. But
that wasn’t so bad it could be explained. As I lay on the
ground thinking up my explanation of the money in my
trunk I saw out the corner of my eye the police pull three
kilos of cocaine from the black bag that Sam had put in
my trunk. That’s when it finally hit me that Sam had set
me up.

Chapter 7

I remember I sat in the stinking Federal Holding Facility

for more than six months without ever being charged with
a crime. Hell, no one even talked to me for the first five
months. I was put in a small room with a bed and toilet
nothing else. However it did have a small window in the
door and a slot big enough to put a food tray though,
which they did three times a day. Now that I think about
it, the Fed’s are some cold-hearted mother-fuckers. For
five months no one said a word to me. Every time they
bought my food I’d try and talk to them I’d ask when was
someone going to talk to me about my case? Or when
was I going to be able to get a lawyer?

Or make a phone call? They never said a word it was as

if they’d had earplugs in.

Often I’d look out my window and see people walking by,
I’d yell out at the top of my lungs for someone to come
and explain to me what the fuck was going on. No one
even looked my way as I yelled. It was if I was yelling
from a sound proof room. After a few months of this
treatment, I began to feel like I was losing my mind. Hell
I even began to have conversations with myself. I made
up names for everyone I saw on a daily basis. Like for
instance the guy who brought my food. I named him
Charles. Everyday I would ask him about his two
imaginary kids. I named his son Ricky and his daughter
Kathy. I would ask him how they were doing in school?
Then I would pretend as if (Charles) had answered me. I
would say, “Oh yeah? All A’s and B’s? That’s damn
good!” I didn’t know the guard’s real name. He would just
look at me and shake his head. He must of thought I was
going crazy. Little did he know that my game of make
believe I played kept me from losing my mind.

I played the game so long when someone finally did

speak to me I didn’t hear a word they said. I just stood
there in disbelief. I didn’t know if it was real or my mind
was playing tricks on me.

One day I looked out of my small window and saw a tall

thin man with graying hair. He had a pipe in his mouth. I
watched him as he spoke out the side of his mouth to the
guard who I’d named Charles. I had never seen this man
before. There was hardly ever a new face that past
through these halls in the five or so months I’d been here.
I knew all the regular faces. I had even made up names
for all of them. Since he was a new face I decided to do
what I’d always done when I saw someone new. I yelled
even though I knew he wouldn’t answer. I yelled out,
“Hey slim, you with the pipe in your mouth!” To my
surprise the man turned and began walking toward my
cell. My heart began to beat so fast it felt as if I was
having a heart attack. The man finally reached my
window and began to talk. I slipped into this dream like
state of mind. I would later find out that I’d actually
fainted. I woke up in the hospital ward.

When my eyes opened the first face I saw was fucking

Sam’s, I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to show his
face. I had to rub my eye to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
I just sat there in the hospital bed wondering why I had
such a bad headache. When I fainted I must of hit the
floor pretty hard. Sam cleared his throat and began to talk
he said, “Wesly I hope you understand that I had to do
what I had to do, I’m sure you remember once we talked
about a man doing what he has to do”.

Samuel walked to the window as he looked out he said,

“What do you think of me Wesly”? Looking at Sam I
thought to myself, what the fuck do you think I think of
you, “I think you are lower than a snake! A fucking fat
fink bastard who set me up and threw me to the white
man!” Samuel turned around from looking out the
window and said, “Don’t be so quick to judge me,
because one day soon Wesly, you maybe forced to make
the same decision I had to make”. I swore to Sam that I
would never be a fucking snitch. I know now in retrospect
I spoke much too soon.

I think Sam himself explained it best that day as I sat in

that hospital bed, he laughed as I swore never to be a
snitch. Sam said a snitch is nothing more than a
survivalist, looking out for one’s self. It’s all about self
preservation. He told me that I’d better wake up and that
everybody was doing it. He said it was being done so
often that now they don’t even call it snitching anymore.
They call it getting down first before the other guy can
tell them. Sam explained that you’re in the Federal
Penitentiary possible facing the rest of your life in here.
Sam looked me right in the eyes and said in an angry
voice, “Youngster, you listen up and I mean listen up
good, you’re one of the luckiest guys in this joint simply
because the Fed’s want to work with you. You would not
believe how many guys would give up their fucking right
arm for a chance to work with the Fed’s!”

Hell, a fucking chance at freedom. That’s what they can

give you Wesly; they have the power to give you your life
back. Sam smiled and said, “Look at me. I stand before
you as living proof. You see Wesly, not more than eight
months ago I went down to Miami to pick up a shipment
for Lucky Don, the Feds caught me in the airport with 25
kilos of cocaine. When I was being walked out of that
airport in hand cuffs I began to see my sick sorry life pass
before my eyes. I made up my mind right then and there
that I’d do whatever I had to do to get out and change my
life. So naturally when they asked me to set Lucky Don
up I didn’t give it a second thought. I was released from
federal custody and allowed to bring back all 25 kilos.
Over the next five months the Feds with my help on the
inside built an unbeatable case against Lucky Don.
However as you know Lucky Don never saw the inside of
a courtroom or jailhouse, and too boot he killed two
Federal Agents and wounded another in his grand finale at
LAX which left a bitter taste in the Fed’s mouth. Now
they wanted the Colombians. They also said that you had
the perfect look for a job in upstate New York”. Sam took
a deep breath and then said, “I’m sure I don’t have to
explain the rest of the story to you. You should know it
by heart”. Sam went on to say that little boys have right
and wrong, on the other hand men have choices.

“Wesly when the time comes for you be sure and make
the right choice cause you only get one chance.” With
that Samuel Woods walked out of that hospital room.
Often I’ve thought of him, but I’ve not seen him since that
day. It’s as if he fell off the face of the earth. The Fed’s
can do that, they can hide you in a big city right in plain
sight or they can put on an Island all-alone which ever is
fitting.

As for Sam: I hope he went right to hell, because that is

where I felt like I was, hell on earth. Sitting in that
hospital another month or so once again they began
playing the game of not talking to me well it worked
because when Agent Harper came to talk with me I was
ready and willing to talk about any and everything. Agent
Harper was the man who had talked to me when I fainted.
He came to my hospital room while I was eating lunch.
Harper opened my door and stood in the doorway and
said, “Mr. Whitemore are you feeling well enough to
come to my office and talk?”
I said nothing for a moment; I just sat in my bed studying
this man Harper. He was tall and thin like a street light;
his eyes were bluish green. His eyes sat so far back in his
head his eyebrow looked like a sun visor. He had red hair
and long skinny fingers, which held a tobacco pipe.
When I didn’t answer Agent Harper right away, it must of
angered him, he yelled out to me, “Mr. Whitemore get
your head out of your ass, I don’t have all day to look at
you staring into blank space. Perhaps I’ll come back in a
few months to talk to you; that is if you have the time.”
At that Harper started to close my door. I yelled out
“Wait a minute!”

Harper opened the door and said, “Get dressed, someone

will come for you in a while”. Harper then shook my
hand and introduced himself as Agent Don Harper. He
said, “ I’ll be looking forward to seeing you”.

When Harper left I immediately begin to get dressed. I

washed my face and brushed my teeth, and shinned my
shoes. It’s kind of funny now that I think about it. I sat
there in that hospital room all dressed with nowhere to go
for two fucking days. That’s right, you heard me right,
two days it took them stinking sons of bitches to come get
me. I have never been more depressed in my life than I
was in those two days. All I could think about was my
son William and Grandma Wilma and if I would ever see
them again. After two days of torture they came for me
and insisted I wear a white pin stripped suite and
snakeskin boots. I looked like some kind of pimp. I
thought to myself “What’s going on with this pimp
getup?!” I only thought that to myself I wouldn’t dare say
anything. I didn’t want to rattle these guys who looked
like fucking robots. They wore dark shades; black suits
and they were all fucking uptight acting, stiff as a board.
I found out these FBI types didn’t talk much. They only
said what needed to be said. I decided not to ask any
questions so when these two androids drove me to the
airport and put me on a plan headed for Washington DC
and said someone would contact me when I got off the
plane in Washington I said nothing. I boarded the plane
and refused to believe they had simply left me on my
own. I knew there was a FBI agent somewhere on the
plane with me. I spent half the flight trying to figure out
who the agent was. Was it the lady with the big titties?
Or was it the fat man who sat behind her? Or was it the
long tall stewardess who had legs all the way up to her
pussy? Or was the pilot himself?

I was thinking to myself, “Who the fuck was flying the

plane?” The pilot seemed to be in the passenger section
every five minutes. I kept catching his eyes watching me
or maybe it was the stewardess he was watching. Hell I
don’t know, but one thing I did know is I didn’t bring a
parasite with me so how could I get off the plane. That’s
when it hit me, maybe there wasn’t anyone watching me
after all. I couldn’t go anywhere. Once I figured out that
there was no FBI agent on board with me I settled in and
began to relax. I even flirted with the long tall sexy
stewardess. Now that I think about it I’m sure she must
of thought I was a pimp or some kind of player. When I
went to the restroom I caught a glance of myself in the
mirror all dressed up` in this white suit and hat. As I
looked at myself in the mirror my thoughts quickly turned
to my father.
I wondered where he was, and what his life was like. Was
he still pimping, did he still call himself Smooth? My
daddy went from Mr. Whitemore the schoolteacher, to
fucking “Smooth” the pimp in less than a year, I still
wonder to this day if my father was ever able to turn it
around. I like to think he did turn it around. Often I have
visualized him

Teaching at a small southern school helping those he

thought needed it most. It isn’t impossible, it could
happen. Hell look at me. I’m proof that a man can turn it
all the way around.

Chapter 8

When I got off that plane 25 years ago I had nothing and I
felt I was less than nothing. Today I can look out of any
window in my home and see five acres of land in any
direction. Before I jump too far ahead, let me take you to
the day I went to see Agent Don Harper.

The plane had landed in DC, as I exited the plane I began

searching the sea of faces, I didn’t even know who I was
looking for. I figured they would have a signal or
something or maybe even Harper himself would show up.
I stood in the middle of the airport looking, like a lost
child with a pimp suit on. I stood there for more than an
hour waiting for someone to contact me and as sure as
hell when the crowd died down, up walked the fat man
who sat behind me the whole trip. The fat man said,
“Lets go see Harper, Mr. Whitemore”.
My mouth dropped open and I shook my head in
confusion, I said to the fat man, “Weren’t you on the
plane with me”?
He answered, “Yes.”
Then I asked, “What took you so long to say something”?
He held up a brown paper bag and said, “I went for
lunch.”
I was thinking to myself, “Didn’t I just see this fat fucker
eat five T.V. dinners on the plane?!” I shook my head in
disbelief. This man had to be over four hundred pounds.
He had no business eating lunch after having five meals
on the plane. I jokingly asked him if he had bought me
anything back and he simply said, “No”.
The fat man then pointed toward the exit and said, “lets
get going”. It must have taken this fat motherfucker a
half an hour to walk a ten-minute walk. He stopped to
rest no less than three times and when we finally made it
to the car, he sat behind the steering wheel for at least five
minutes more, breathing like a Brahma bull. He was
soaking wet in sweat. This guy was going to have a heart
attack right here in front of me. Now that I think about it,
a part of me wanted to ask the guy if he needed help. But
another part of me said, “Wait a minute, you have never
seen anyone have a heart attack, how would I know what
to do to help this poor fat fuck?”

I felt a rush sitting in the back seat watching this fucker

gasp for air wondering when his heart was going to bust
wide open. His battle for air only lasted five minutes or
so, then he caught his breath. He put the car in gear and
drove off. As we drove off I stared out the window
wondering what the Feds had in store for me.

I was trying to get any information I could out of the guy.

I extended my hand to introduce myself giving my name
and asking his. This fat bastard never took his eyes off
the road. He said, “Sit back and relax. My name isn’t
important and I already know yours and who you are.” At
that I sat back and didn’t say another word.

We drove for what seemed eternity. It reminded me of the

day my mother and I dropped my sister Carmen off at my
grand parent’s house. I wondered how my big sister was
doing. The last time I spoke to her I was congratulating
her on the birth of her son. I thought to my self I’m glad
Carmen’s found a good husband and having a good full
life.

I on the other hand, felt like I was drowning and the only
people who could see me didn’t know how to swim. I
could not stop thinking about how easy it was for me to
be willing to be a snitch for the Feds. I talked myself into
believing that I had become a snitch for the Fed’s for the
benefit of my son William, and Grandma Wilma. I’d
always put them up front whenever I’d gotten myself into
a jam. All of a sudden I really missed them. When in
reality it was I who had not called them in months. The
real truth is, it’s just like Sam said, “When push comes to
shove, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do”. The
funny part is that my skin wasn’t so tuff after all. They
didn’t have to do much and here I was on my way to set
somebody up. I figured who ever I was going to set up I
didn’t know, or at least it was not a friend. I figured I’d
do this cat whoever he was and move on with my life and
try and put it behind me. I know to this day that there are
some things one can never put behind them. Memories
haunt me everywhere I go. I see and hear echoes from my
past.

When I look in the mirror I can see my daddy’s face and I

can hear my Grandma Wilma yelling for me to come in
the house because it’s dark outside. Sometimes I feel that
things have gotten so dark, that I couldn’t find my way
home even if I wanted to. It is said that no man is an
island. Once I believed that it was true. Today I would
strongly argue that any man becomes an island if he
alienates and isolates himself long enough.

Often I have watched people driving their shinning new

cars and they have their doors locked and window’s rolled
up and I’m sure they believe that their locked doors and
rolled up windows offer them protection from the world.
They are their own little islands.

The fat man and I drove out of one city to another. We

finally stopped in front of a small gas station and a black
Lincoln Continental sat in the parking lot next to the gas
station. As we pulled over toward the Continental this fat
bastard reached into his brown bag from the airport and
pulled out a cookie and shoved it into his mouth. As he
turned and he said, “Get out of the car and walk over to
the black Lincoln, Harper is waiting”. Cookie crumbs
flew out of his mouth as he pushed another cookie into is
salivating pie hole. He than waved me out of the car. I got
out and walked over to Agent Harper sitting in the back
seat. Harper opened the door so that I could get in. As
soon as I sat down Harper began to laugh, he told the
driver to pull off.

Harper picked his cell phone and called someone. Still

laughing he spoke into the phone and said, “ I owe you
two guy’s big time. I’m going to get you back for this
one!” Harper still laughing began to talk as if I weren’t
even there. “This mother fucker looks like Chicken
George, Pretty Tony, and Ike Turner rolled all up into one,
I love it man, its hilarious!” Harper began to laugh
uncontrollably, he said, “ Who’s idea was the hat? I know
Roberts had something to do with it. That hat has his
name written all over it. You tell Roberts I’m going to pay
him back. This guy is hardly dressed low key as I
requested. He sticks out like a sore thumb. You tell
Roberts he owes me a drink when I am back in town”.
With that Harper said his good byes, he still could not
stop laughing. He finally said, “Mr. Whitemore could you
please remove your hat?” I was more than happy to do it.
Harper’s constant laughter angered me. I took the hat off
and threw it out the window. When I did Harper’s
laughter turned into anger, he yelled out, “What the fucks
wrong with you Whitemore? Are you trying to cause an
accident? You had better watch your step boy, cause you
do something like that again and I’ll lock you back up
faster than you can swallow your own spit”.
After Harper calmed down, he handed me a folder and
said look at this file, this is the guy you are going to take
down. I opened the file and saw a picture of a very dark
skinned man holding a brown and white dog. As I looked
at the picture, Agent Harper opened up another file and
began to read. “His name is Nicky Moore, he’s known on
the streets as Murder One. It’s a name he got honestly. By
the time he was fourteen he had murdered two men and
was locked up for armed robbery. He served eight years
and was released at age twenty-four. Since then it has
been the word on the street is that he has either killed or
been behind the murders of ten men and women over the
last ten years. He has risen to the top of New York’s drug
world.”

“It is said that 25% of all drugs sold in upstate New York
come from his clan. He is the leader of the Rooster Street
Clan. They are an army of over one hundred. Most of
them are murderers and ex-cons”.

Agent Harper looked at me and said, “You’ve got your

work cut out for you”. I nodded my head yes. Not
knowing it would be little or no work. I must admit I was
even surprised at myself as the thought of meeting or
having to deal with somebody like Nicky Moore didn’t
faze me. I was sure I had seen the worst that mankind had
to offer in Lucky Don.

Harper said he was taking me to meet my inside contact.

A guy named Walter X. Harper told me that Walter X had
been on the inside of the Rooster Street Boys Clan for
more than a year. I wondered why this guy Walter X
wasn’t able to get the goods on Nicky Moore.

Harper soon answered my question, he said, “I don’t want

to blow Walter X’s cover because he is next in line to take
over the Rooster Street Boys. If Walter X runs the Rooster
Boys, they could not only take down six of New York’s
biggest king pings, but they could begin to track the
movement of drugs in twenty states. Your job is to meet
Nicky Moore through one of the Rooster Boys and then
work your way up from there. It’s not going to be easy,
you have six months to get close. Take note, cause Nicky
likes violent mother fuckers, killers”. I nodded my head,
Harper looked at my nod and said, “I’m going to drop you
off with Walter X, I’ll get a report from you in six months;
someone will contact you”. Agent Harper sat straight in
his seat and leaned forward and said, “this meeting never
took place you are on your own and you will get no help
from me or the Feds. If you get your ass in some bullshit
you will be prosecuted by the local police. However when
Nicky Moore is taken down, we will take a closer look at
your case in California”. I opened my mouth to say
something but Harper said, “Don’t say a word we have
already talked too much”.

At that he told the driver to pull into the next Shell gas
station. The driver drove for another two blocks and
pulled into a Shell station. Harper picked up his cell
phone and dialed a number and spoke into the phone,
“The goat has arrived”. Harper looked at me and
suggested I get a change of clothes before I go to New
York. Just then a yellow cab pulled in the parking lot.
Harper looked at me and said, “Your ride is here”. Harper
turned his cell phone off and extended his hand out to
shake my hand. As we shook hands Harper said, “Good
luck you’re going to need it.” I said, “Thanks” and
jumped out of the car.

I walked over to the yellow cab and opened the back door
and got into the cab. Upon entering the cab I saw a light
skinned man who looked to be a mix of white and black.
He wore small brown-rimed glasses and wore a white suit
that looked very similar to the one I wore. He had on a
diamond pinkie ring so brilliant that it captured every ray
of the sun. On his left wrist sat a paved out Rolex watch
that looked to cost a small fortune. This cat was dressed
like a movie star. I mean he had on alligator shoes so
fresh I’m sure I saw swamp water dripping off of them.

The moment I sat down in the cab a rush of Versacci

cologne filled my nose. Now mind you, even with all the
things I just mentioned there was still something even
more spectacular about this man. I tell you he had the
biggest scare I have ever seen. I mean this cat had been
literally cut from ear to ear. He looked as if his head had
been cut off and sewn back on. He wore a small gold
chain, which his massive scar over shadowed. In fact the
chain seem to waive a red flag at his neck. I guess he
caught my stare. As he turned to me abruptly and asked
with a blank look on his face, “Do you find my scar to be
interesting?” I damn near jumped out my skin, but I was
cool as a cucumber. I let out a small sigh and said,
“Actually, the chain you’re wearing is my point of
interest. One day I’d like to own one like it.” When I
said that it seemed to loosen him up, he laughed a little
and said, “Perhaps one day you will own one like the one
I wear, I only hope you won’t have to get your chain the
way I got mine. The scar I wear came with the gold
chain.” At that he said, “My name is Walter X and your
name is Wesly Whitemore and we’re both here to do one
thing and that is to take down Nicky Moore. But don’t
think for one minute that you and I are the same. I am a
US Federal agent. I’m not here because I cut a deal. I’ve
been doing undercover investigations for the last 20 years.
I know my job well and I know that’s all I’m doing, a job.
So don’t get the idea we are friends or that I even like
your “drug dealing” ass. However, you’ll find that we
Fed’s do keep our word if you help us we will help you.
When Nicky Moore is taken down your troubles in Rose
City will fade like snow on a hot summer’s day”.
It sounded good at the time. But looking back Walter X
knew there was no truth in the words he spoke. In fact he
knew that soon I’d be in more trouble than the law would
allow.

Chapter 9

Walter X told the cab driver to take us downtown to the

Grand Hotel. He explained that we would get a bite to eat
a few hours rest and hop on a redeye flight to New York.
To this day I wish to God that things could have gone the
way Walter X said they would go. But soon I would
come to know that Walter X was a wicked man that I
would never be able to forget.

At first things seem to go as planned. We checked into

the Grand Hotel. As we ate our food Walter X began to
tell me about Nicky Moore. He painted somewhat of a
different picture of Nicky Moore than did Agent Harper.
Walter X explained that Nicky was a “low key” guy who
didn’t like trouble. He liked better to be seen than heard
and that most of the rumors about Nicky Moore were
unfounded. As I listened to Walter X, I honestly didn’t
know whose story to believe. Should I believe Agent
Harper and his monster story or Walter X’s story? I knew
I would be finding out real soon.

It’s funny how things go, I saw Nicky Moore once for five
minutes and I can tell you without a doubt in my mind
that he was the monster Agent Harper painted him to be.
I saw it in his eyes. Lucky Don had those same eyes. The
eyes that spot fear a mile away. The eyes that pierce right
through you; Nicky Moore had the piercing dark eyes of a
monster.

Over the years I have often wondered where bad people

come from? I haven’t found the answer to that question.
But what I do know is that they all have those eyes. If
only I would have paid more attention to Walter X’s eyes
perhaps I could have seen what was coming. He was a
real “crafty cat”, he talked and looked like a criminal. I’m
sure he was skilled as a good undercover agent.

As we ate he went on to say that we would be leaving for

New York in four hours and that he would be taking me to
meet Nicky Moore. That’s when I began to get
suspicious. Agent Harper told me I’d be introduced to a
“low level” gang member and work my way up to
meeting Nicky Moore. That it might take six months or
more. Now this cat Walter X was telling me I would be
meeting him in four hours. He said that he had been
telling Nicky for months about me. I would be introduced
as his nephew from California who’d been in and out of
trouble since I was a teenager and that I would be staying
with him for a while.

Walter X said just as Harper had stated earlier that he had

been running with the Rooster Street Boys for a little over
a year. He said that he indeed was next in line to take
over the Rooster Street Boys. Walter explained that in
little over a year’s time he had become Nicky Moore’s
number one man; and that he was well respected among
the Clan. Walter went on to explain that it was time to
take Nicky down. He was in the way of the investigation.
Walter X told me it would be easy for me to get close to
Nicky Moore as he like’s young good looking men.

I asked Walter X was Nicky Moore some kind of faggot

or something? When I said that Walter X’s face turned
red with anger. He pounded his fist on the table and said,
“Listen up you drug dealin‘, baby killin’ mother fucker, I
don’t like that fucking word and don’t ever use it around
me again. He threw his napkin in his plate and said let’s
go get a few hours rest before the flight. I sat there for a
moment in pure shock. I wondered why he blew up like
that. To my regret I would soon find out in a way that
shames me to even think of, let alone talk about.

I am reminded of Dr. Franklin’s words, when I began to

write my story, he said the things we say free us, what we
hold inside slowly kills us. I must admit the events of that
day at the Grand Hotel aren’t easy to talk about.

After eating lunch Walter X and I went up to the room. I

could tell he was still mad about the ‘faggot’ comment.
He didn’t say a word he just turned the television on. I
broke the silence by telling Walter I didn’t mean anything
by the comment I made earlier, its just that when you said
Nicky Moore likes young good looking men, I wanted to
know what you meant by that? Hell I don’t care what his
life style is. I say live and let live, as for myself I love
pussy. Walter X looked at me and said, “It’s okay I over
reacted, and by the way Nicky Moore is not gay. When I
said he likes young handsome men I was mostly referring
to the suit you are wearing. He like’s well dressed men
and women. Now you better get some rest remember we
have a flight in three and a half hours”.

I was very tired and was looking forward to getting some

rest. When I got out of the shower I put on my under
clothes and went back into the bedroom. There were two
single beds. I asked Walter which bed he wanted? He
laughed and said I’m sitting on the bed I want, open your
eyes. When I laid down Walter X jumped up with a pair of
handcuffs and said, “ I am sorry Wesly but I have to
handcuff you to the bed.” I asked why? And he explained
that he was really tired and wanted to sleep so he
wouldn’t be able to stay and watch me. He said he didn’t
trust me. When he handcuffed me to that bed he might as
well taken my soul. As I have not been the same. It was
in that moment I realized that Walter X had the eyes of
“bad people”. Walter X didn’t waste any time within a
minute of me being cuffed to the bed he literally tore my
boxer under ware of my body, revealing my buttocks.
Then he stripped himself and rammed his penis inch by
inch into my bleeding anus. The pain was so intense I
yelled out, “get the fuck off me!”

Walter began choking me as he thrust into my buttock. I

could feel my anus tearing apart. When I was close to
passing out Walter slapped me and stopped choking me
and said, “If you pass out I’m going to kill you”. He got
off the bed and went and got two cups of cold water and
threw them in my face. My head was spinning; I could
not believe what was happening to me. The federal agent
who was assigned to assist through this process to my
freedom was sexually assaulting me; committing a violent
crime under the protection of the US government. Walter
X raped me for two hours. When he was done he called
me a faggot and said that the only reason he wasn’t going
to kill me is because they needed me. But if I so much as
looked at him cross-eyed he would blow my head off. I
believed him; he had those eyes. Besides I was in so
much pain I could hardly move. When he removed the
cuffs I just laid on the bed wishing I were dead. Often I
have wondered what makes men want to violate other
men, it’s sick.

Walter X took a part of me that I am sure I’ll never totally

get back. He came out of the shower telling me to get up
and get dressed. I had to stuff toilet paper up my bleeding
ass.

I stood up the whole flight to New York because I was too

sore to sit down. I hated Walter X and I swore that one
day I would kill him. When we got off the plane we took
a cab to Nicky Moore’s place. I couldn’t sit still. My ass
was throbbing. Walter X looked over at me as I moved
around on cab seat and said, “You had better get it
together Nicky has a way of knowing when things aren’t
quite right. So get your shit in order and stop all those
herkey jerky movements”. I sat still in pain for the rest of
the ride.

We finally pulled up in front of Nicky Moore’s

townhouse. Walter X told the cab driver to wait out front
we would be right back. He tapped me on the shoulder
and said, “Come on lets go”. As I exited the cab I could
feel pain shooting up and down my back and legs. I could
hardly stand. I slowly followed behind Walter X as he
walked up a flight of stairs.

At the top of the stairs was a big brass lion just before the
front door. Walter X stopped at the front door and took a
key out of his pocket and opened the door. The moment
he walked inside he began yelling for Nicky. Moments
later I heard a man’s voice answer back. “Is that you
Walter?” Walter replied, “Yes it’s me, get dressed I’ve got
my nephew with me”. Nicky walked out of a back room,
he walked over to Walter X and hugged him in a way that
made me realize these two were lovers. All I could think
about is what this sick motherfucker had done to me
earlier. As I watched them hug I took a good look at
Nicky.

It was indeed the man in the picture that agent Harper had
shown me. Some how Nicky Moore didn’t look like
someone with the nickname “Murder One” standing there
hugging and looking into Walter X’s eyes. It was only
when he turned and looked at me to introduce himself that
I knew for sure this man was a killer. Faggot or not he
had those eyes. He walked towards me and said, “So you
are Walter’s nephew?” I shook my head yes and extended
my hand out to shake his hand and at that moment out of
nowhere I heard three small bangs. Nicky’s eyes rolled
back in his head and he hit the floor.

Walter X had shot Nicky in the back of the head and neck.
I saw Walter X standing there with a gun in his hand. I
just knew he was going to shoot me next but he didn’t.
He walked over to the phone dialed a number and said
two words, “ its done”. Walter X listened on the phone
for another two minutes then hung it up. He turned to me
and said, “They already know you killed Nicky”. I shook
my head no, and said “no, I’m not going down for this,
you killed Nicky I didn’t”. When I said that Walter
rushed over to me and put the gun to my head said, “I’m
the fucking police I don’t kill people”. Walter X pressed
the gun even harder into my head and said, “If it wasn’t
for agent Harper I would have killed you too. Harper
thinks you are young enough to change your life so today
we are going to let you go”. Harper said you have 72
hours before he tells the local police who you are. So you
will not only have the police looking for you, I am going
to put the Rooster Street Boys on you as well. With the
gun still to my head Walter X told me to walk into the
bedroom. I don’t have to tell you what I started thinking.
I made my mind up this time he would have to kill me. I
stopped walking and said, “You will have to kill me
Walter, and I would rather be dead than let that happen
again”.

Walter began to laugh as he said, “Sit down on the floor

and don’t move”. I sat down on the floor as Walter X
went in to bedroom. When he returned he had a leather
bag in his hand and handed it to me. He said, “ There is
sixty thousand dollars in cash and one and a half kilo’s of
heroin in the bag. If they are saying you robbed and
killed Nicky you might as well take the goods. Walter
looked at his watch and said, “you are wasting time, if I
were you I would get as far away from here as I could.
The cab is still waiting downstairs”. He then waived his
gun in the air and said, “Get the fuck out of here! Run
goat run”.
With bag in hand I ran out of the townhouse. As Walter X
had said, the cab was still waiting. I jumped in the cab. I
was breathing so hard I could hardly speak. The cab
driver said, “ Where too”? I said nothing for a moment. I
couldn’t think straight. Somehow I uttered the words,
“just drive get me out of here”. As the cab driver took off
he asked me if everything was okay? I nodded yes and
said, “Everything is fine I just need a little fresh air”.

I rolled my window down. The cool air blowing on my

face seemed to calm me down somewhat. I still didn’t
know what I was going to do or where I was headed.
After I cleared my head my first thought was to head back
to California. Somehow I knew PawPaw would know
what I should do. But then I thought to myself that was
going to be the first place they would come looking for
me. It was at that moment I realized I could never go
home again.

There are those who take home and loved ones for
granted. I submit to you that there is nothing on this earth
like being at home surrounded by those who love you.
While I will admit I have made the best out of a bad
situation a big part of me wishes I were right back in Rose
City, California enjoying a big bowl of my Grandma
Wilma’s vanilla ice cream.

I could not go back to Rose City, and I knew I couldn’t

stay in New York. I felt lost but I knew I had to keep a
clear head. Soon the police would be looking for me. I
began to wonder why the Feds had gone through so much
just to set me up? To this day I still can’t answer that
question. Although I have always thought it had
something to do with Lucky Don. Its nothing I can put
my finger on or prove, it’s just a feeling I have. Whatever
the reason I’m glad I’m free.

I knew I had to get out of New York fast. I told the cab
driver to drop me off at the nearest bus station. The cab
driver pulled over in front of Newton Bus Station. I
reached into the leather bag for the money to pay him.
When my eyes saw all that money I was stunned. I
looked into the bag for a moment and a smile began to
cover my face. The smile was soon washed away at the
thought of Walter X. As reached into the bag and
grabbed a one hundred dollar bill. I swore once again to
myself that my face would be the last face Walter X sees
before he dies.

Chapter 10

I decided I would buy a bus ticket to the next town then

get on the train in case I was being followed. Hell, who
knows how the Fed’s work. For all I know the cab driver
could have been an agent. I paid the cab driver then went
into Newton Station and brought a ticket to a town called
Burnsville. I figured I’d get off the bus before I got to
Barnesville in some other small town along the way and
buy a train ticket down south. I thought of growing my
hair long and changing my look, and get a place in the
back woods and lay low for the next 30 years or so. I
thought it was a good plan at the time. Now all these
years later I must admit, I’m glad in some ways things
didn’t go as I planned.

I decided to get off the bus before I got to Barnesville.

The bus had three stops before it reached this small town
of Barnesville. I decided I would get off on the first stop.
A town named Janson. While in Janson, I could get a hot
shower, a change of clothes and a few cosmetics. Jason
was five hours outside of New York City. However I
would soon find that the town of Janson was more like a
thousand light years away from New York City.

There were no big crowds and not very much traffic.

Every body said hello. It was a small town with an even
mix of people. There were just as many Blacks as there
were Whites, and as many Hispanics as there were Asians.
In addition there were a host of people from all over the
world.

When I got off the bus I went looking for the train station,
which was at the other end of town. I got directions and
headed toward the train station. I decided to walk so that
I could look around. Now that I think about it, it was
pretty silly of me to walk around town and window shop
with a bag of money and drugs on the run from the Feds.

The town was small but strangely enough Janson was also
a town where a stranger could blend in. I don’t think
anyone was born and raised in Janson. It seems like
myself most people got off the bus or train and stayed
longer than they anticipated. I for one stayed in Janson
for the better part of three years. Yeah that’s right; for
three years I hid out from the Feds five hours outside of
New York City right in plain site. When I got off the bus
that day as sure as hell I was not planning on staying. But
something happened that changed my life forever. If you
are thinking I found Buda or some other kind of religion
or God you couldn’t be further from the truth. What I
found was a heartless woman named Samantha. She had
a pretty smile with a big butt and a dark soul that sucked
me right in. She really fooled me. To this day all these
years later I’m sure if you listen close enough. One can
hear my heart crying out for her.

PawPaw would talk about ghost and monsters and people

putting spells on other people. I know its all nonsense but
sometimes at night I am not sure. I feel heat and I see
flames, then I begin to believe Samantha has a spell on
me. I know its not true and most often its the chili I had
for dinner. At any rate the memory of Samantha is alive
and well in my head. Needless to say I remember the day
I first cast my eyes upon her.

I’d gotten off the bus in Jansen. I couldn’t wait to get to

the train station so I could buy a ticket down south
somewhere. But on the other hand I was tired if sitting
down so I decided to walk to the train station. About half
way to the station I stopped at a small coffee shop called
“Trendies”. I took a seat at the front counter. When the
waitress came for my order I had my face buried in the
menu, she asked me what I was having?

At the sound of her voice I lifted my face out of the menu

and there she stood. I know it sounds corny but it truly
was as if all time stopped for me. My mouth literally
dropped open. I had this blank stair on my face. My
palms even began to sweat. It was as if I was a love
struck teenager. Samantha asked me once again what I
wanted to order? I was lost for words. She stood there
for a moment and as she turned away she said, “Call me
when you are ready to order”. I sat at the counter and
watched her as she walked away.

I watched her ass shake and thought to myself, I know

she’s got parts of that ass she ain’t even sat on yet. I was
in a daze from her beauty. I guess I don’t have to tell you
I fell in love with Samantha from the moment I saw her.
For the next thirty minutes I sat at the counter drinking
coffee and watching Samantha work. I’m sure she felt my
stares. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I gotta tell you
I drank so much coffee sitting at the counter I felt like I
was going to explode. I actually got sick. My stomach
began to bubble and I couldn’t sit still as I had to use the
restroom really bad. Finally I started to look around the
coffee shop for the restroom. I began to panic as it felt
like my bladder was about to bust. Just when I thought I
couldn’t hold it any longer I spotted the restroom. I
jumped out of my chair and bolted towards the restroom
and it was just my fucking luck that Samantha was
bringing someone’s order to them. Yeah you guessed it I
ran right into her. Food and drink flew everywhere. It
was a mess and too boot I still had to use the restroom
badly. I scrambled to my feet and ran into the bathroom.

I swear I must have pissed out a gallon of coffee. I felt

relieved and ashamed at the same time. In fact I didn’t
even want to come out of the restroom. I knew sure as
hell all eyes would be on me. I felt like such a fool.
Finally I came out the restroom, opened the door and
walked out. It was just as I thought everyone in the joint
was staring at me. I was so embarrassed I pretended like I
didn’t see them looking at me. I simply walked back over
to the front counter. I called the cook over and asked him
if the waitress was okay. But before the cook could
answer me, I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. I turned
around and there stood Samantha. To my delight she was
smiling. As she spoke she began to laugh as well.
Samantha said, “That was so funny the way you ran to the
bathroom. Bob the cook bet me five dollars that you
wouldn’t be able to drink another cup of coffee without
going to the bathroom”. Samantha let out a big chuckle
and said, “You sure proved him right”. I let out a small
laugh and even though I felt flush. I managed to put a
smile on my face.

I looked at her nametag, which read “Samantha”. I asked

if she was okay, she shook her head yes and said, “I’m a
tuff cookie. I’m fine in fact. I thought maybe you hurt
yourself I answered, “I’m just a little embarrassed is all”.
Samantha asked if I wanted a slice of cherry pie, on the
house? I answered her with a yes and had a seat in a
booth this time, nod the front counter.
A few moments later Samantha returned with two pieces
of cherry pie. She sat both slices on the table and had a
seat. She was still smiling and said, “Thank you mister.
We haven’t had that much excitement around here in a
long time”. I nodded yes, but in truth I don’t think I heard
a word she said. For I had once again become spell
bound by her beauty. She noticed my blank stare, she
asked me once again was I okay? I cleared my throat and
said, “Yes I’m very well it’s just that you are so beautiful
it’s kind of hard for me to concentrate. Its not everyday I
see a woman as lovely as yourself.”

Samantha batted her pretty green eyes and said, “Well

aren’t you quite the sweet talker”. She extended her hand
out to mine and said, “Hi my name is Samantha Brown,
what’s yours?” I shook her hand and quickly became
confused. I didn’t know what to say because right then
and there I realized I couldn’t tell her my real name. At
the same time I began looking at the front counter for my
black bag. I saw that it was still sitting under the chair at
the counter. I said the first name that came to mind. I
told her my name was Jonathan. I don’t know why I said
my father’s name. Maybe I subconsciously missed him.
It had been more than four years since I’d seen him last. I
let Samantha’s hand go and asked if she would excuse me
for a moment while I got my bag from the front counter?
She said, “ yes”. I got up grabbed my bag and sat back
down with Samantha. I began to eat my slice of cherry
pie. It was so flaky and good; it seemed to melt in my
mouth.
I began thinking to myself that a big bowl of Grandma
Wilma’s ice cream would go great with this pie. I even
actually began to picture Grandma Wilma making her
sweet vanilla ice cream. As a child I use to sit in the
kitchen and watch her as she made her ice creams.
Grandma Wilma was so beautiful. She had cocoa brown
skin with long “jet black” hair. Often people thought she
was Indian. She always assured them that she was black.

My grandma was a proud woman and a tuff something

too. I guess she had to be dealing with a husband like
PawPaw. Once I over heard her telling some woman to
stay away from PawPaw and stop asking PawPaw for
money. My grandmother put up with PawPaw’s loan
sharking. She kind of looked the other way. But the one
thing she always put her foot down about was “women”
wanting to borrow money from PawPaw. Now don’t get
me wrong PawPaw wasn’t a skirt chaser at all. Hell most
often it was the women chasing him. At any rate
whichever it was Grandma Wilma kept her eyes open.

It seems I should have kept my eyes open. I was so busy

enjoying my cherry pie and day dreaming about Grandma
Wilma, that I didn’t notice when the Janson police walked
in the coffee shop. When I looked up there was a Janson
city cop talking, well more like flirting with Samantha.

Even though I was nervous I kept my cool when the cop

asked me my name. With confidence I said “Mr. Clark,
Mr. Jonathan Clark.” This prick gave me a long hard look
and asked what brings me to Janson? I was not rattled at
all in the blink of an eye I told this snoop that it was
pictures that brought me to Janson. I was a “photo
journalist”, when I said that it seemed to anger him. He
frowned and gritted his teeth and said, “Now, what
exactly does a photo journalist do?” I opened my mouth
to answer, but before I could say anything Samantha stood
up from the table and said, “Ray Wallace will you quit
giving Mr. Clark a hard time?! You’re beginning to sound
like a bully”.

She then grabbed him by the hand and walked off. They
went out the front door. I knew I couldn’t dare leave with
this bag of money and drugs with that cop around. So I
sat there. I ordered a steak sandwich for some reason.
Even though I’d eaten the slice of cherry pie I was hungry
enough to eat a horse. To this day I truly believe that’s
what they cooked me; a horse. I mean the meat didn’t
look like any kind of beef I had ever seen. It was so
tough I could’ve put holes in it and made a belt. The
whole time I fought with my sandwich I kept my eye on
the front door. After about ten minutes Samantha walked
back inside. She walked over to me and said, “Please
don’t mind Ray he’s harmless”. I just smiled and
swallowed a lump of meat down and said, “I understand,
if I saw my girlfriend talking to a strange man I‘d be a
little uptight too”. Samantha smiled and said, “If you are
asking, Ray is not my boyfriend. We’re just good friends,
he’s actually a pretty nice guy”. She flashed her pearly
whites and said, “Ray’s bark is worse than his bite, if you
get to know him you’ll see”. I just smiled and shook my
head yes. Little did Samantha know, a cop for a friend
was the last thing I needed.

Samantha batted her eyes again and said, “So you take
pictures?”
I answered, “Yes” and told her I had been taking pictures
since high school. In truth I hadn’t taken any pictures
since junior high, but it had always been a dream of mine
to be a photographer. I sat there in silence for a moment
pondering over just where I had lost sight of my life’s
dreams. I perhaps could’ve been a superstar baseball
player or a commercially known photographer.
Instead I had become a killer on the run with nowhere to
run. After a moment of thought I asked where the sights
around town were located to take pictures? She smiled
and began looking around the coffee shop and said, “Look
around silly, isn’t this place charming? I really wish you
would take some pictures of this shop it might help us
drum up some business not many people come here
anymore.” When Samantha said that, I looked down at the
steak sandwich from hell and thought to myself maybe all
the people have lost their teeth. Samantha asked if I’d
take a few pictures of the coffee shop, naturally I said,
“Yes there was just one problem I didn’t have a camera.
I’d be glad to take pictures of the coffee shop. However
my luggage had been lost or misplaced at New York
Airport. All I have is my carry on bag. I not only need to
buy a camera but I also needed to buy some clothes and
toiletries until they find my things.”

Samantha told me that there was a store across town

called Comet’s that sold cameras and down the street at a
store called, “Bargain Mikes” I could buy clothes. I also
asked Samantha was there a good hotel in town.
Samantha said that it would be better if I stayed at miss
Johnson’s place. She said the hotel cost too much and had
bad food and poor service. She told me to wait another
half hour and her swift would be over and she would take
me over to the Johnson place and introduce me to Miss
Johnson. I agreed to wait. As I sat and waited on
Samantha I began to wonder if the Feds had followed. I
wondered if the Rooster Street Boys knew Nicky Moore
was dead.

I began to think maybe it would be better if I just kept

moving. I had no business even thinking about staying in
Janson. Then I looked over at Samantha, I watched her
for a moment I thought to myself I must be crazy to think
I could stay five hours outside of New Iork City and not
be caught and I had to be even crazier if I thought a
beautiful woman like Samantha would want me. She
turned and smiled and said, “just fifteen more minutes”. I
hardly heard a word she said I just saw her sweet lips
moving. I smiled and waived my hand at her. I gotta tell
you, there is nothing in this world like the power of love.
I was willing to take a chance on being caught just to see
if I had a chance to be with Samantha. I thought to
myself going down south or anywhere for that matter was
no guarantee I wouldn’t be caught so I made my mind up
that I’d stay in Janson for a while. If the Feds or the
Rooster Street Boys came looking for me I’d deal with it
then. For now I figured I’d just try and get close to
Samantha which now that I think back, it wasn’t hard at
all. In fact even the ride to Miss Johnson’s place made me
feel closer to her. She practically told me her whole life’s
story.

Chapter 11

Samantha was an amazing woman. On the ride to the

Johnson place I found out she was not only beautiful she
was very smart as well. She spoke four languages:
French, German, Spanish and English. Samantha told me
that she had traveled over seas and she was a teacher for a
while. She moved to Janson six years ago and she was
divorced and had no children. Now that I look back
Samantha had quite a story. I was very impressed. Over
the next few months I would learn a lot more about
Samantha. I would learn more than I wanted to know.

We had lots of things in common. The one thing we didn’t

have in common was the way we talked about our
families or our past. I said as little as possible about my
family or past. On the other hand, Samantha had many
stories about her family and past. I must admit most of
her stories were heart wrenching. Most of the time I
couldn’t bear to listen to her. However I believe now all
these years later, Samantha was crying out for help. I
think Samantha believed I could fix her childhood. It
made me feel sorry for her. Samantha told me that her
parents and two sisters died in a house fire. For a while
she lived with her grand parents. Not five months after
moving in with her grand parents her grand mother died
in her sleep. After that her grand father became a raging
alcoholic.

At ten years old she was removed from his custody. She
then bounced around from foster home to foster home.
Samantha says she was molested everywhere she went
and that each time she said something she would be
moved again. Finally at the age of twelve years old she
decided that she would say nothing about being molested
or beaten. She was simply tired of be moved from place
to place. So when she was put in the Coopers Foster
home and began being molested by not only Mr. Cooper
but his wife as well, she said nothing.

For six years both Mr. and Mrs. Cooper had their way
with her. On Samantha’s eighteenth birthday she moved
out of the Cooper’s home. However Samantha did admit
she continued to see both Mr. and Mrs. Cooper for a year
after she moved out. She use to laugh and say neither of
them knew the other one was having sex with her.
Samantha said they both paid her rent and bills. She told
me she had planned on a trip to London. She had read
about London in one of the many books at the bookstore.
Samantha said that working in the bookstore changed her
life. It was there that she learned to speak Spanish. It was
also at the bookstore where she met her first husband.

His name was Mike and he owned the bookstore. He was

twenty years her senior, close to Mr. Cooper’s age. Well,
the long and short of their life together is that Mike
Nobles sold his bookstore, married Samantha and took
her to see the world, including London. They remained
married for seven years. At the young age of 45, Mike
Nobles had a heart attack and died.

After Mike’s death Samantha began attending college.

She went on to get a BA degree in Sociology and began
working at the local middle school as a counselor. You
know one of the saddest things about Samantha was that
she had all the tools and knowledge to help everyone else,
but she couldn’t help herself.

When Samantha began counseling at the Newbrook

Middle School she met a sixth grade teacher named Paul
Woodson, he became Samantha’s second husband.
Samantha didn’t have much to say about her second
marriage other than the fact that she left him and moved
to Janson. When she moved to Janson she brought a
home and had been living in for the last eight years.
When I arrived in Janson she was dating that snoop of a
cop Ray.

Oh yeah did I tell you that the situation with Ray took
care of itself. It seems that he was attending a seminar in
New York City and while there he got himself killed.
Someone cut his heart out with a stiletto dagger. Isn’t it
funny how things work out sometimes? I mean Ray
getting himself killed kinda helped Samantha and I get
closer to each other. I must admit I’m still dealing with
the hurt that Samantha left behind. In some ways I’m
glad I met her. But mostly I’m not glad and in fact I wish
I had never met her. I believe that only an evil and
wicked person could do what she did to me.

In the beginning things were going good. We bought

Trendies, changed the menu and business took off. The
coffee shop stayed full all of the time and we were
making good money. Samantha and I were to be married
in June of 1986. Exactly one and a half years after I had
come to Janson. Oh how I wish things could have gone as
planned and we would have been able to get married. The
marriage was not to happen, on May 19th one month and a
day before we were to be married the police came to the
coffee shop and arrested Samantha.

I stood in the background and watched ten state police

from North Carolina handcuff and walk Samantha out of
Trendies. I never saw Samantha again. I would later find
out that she had been on the run for the last eight years. It
seems she not only killed her second husband Paul
Woodson but she also had been having sex with her
thirteen year old son whom Allen Cooper had fathered
when she was eighteen. She convinced her first husband
that she was carrying his child. That’s why he married her.
She also was the main suspect in the murder of Mike
Nobles. An autopsy revealed he had been poisoned to
death. The day they took Samantha away from me, I
closed the coffee shop and went home and cried for a
week straight. I felt so abandoned. I wanted to go running
back to California. I wanted to see my grand parents I
wanted to be around someone I knew, but I knew I
couldn’t go back home because the Feds would find me. I
figured it would be stupid to leave Janson. I had been
there more than a year and I had not heard or seen
anything about the murder of Nicky Moore. I set in the
house for a week.

After a week or so I returned and reopened Trendies. I

gotta tell you it wasn’t easy. Not only did everything
inside of Trendies remind me of Samantha, but people
were starting to come in from all over to ask me about
Samantha. They were so uncaring I began to not only hate
the town of Janson, I hated everyone in the town as well.
I then made my mind up that I would get even with the
people of Janson. I wished I could have poisoned all of
them. Now that I think about it, I wasn’t right for what I
did to the town of Janson. I came to realize it was only
human nature to want to know what happened to
Samantha. Now that I look at things with a clear head I
believe it was Samantha I hated. I didn’t hate the people
of Janson. It’s just that Samantha wasn’t there and the
people of Janson were with all the preying questions
always in my face.

They would come to Trendies and question me about

Samantha the whole dame day. The more they questioned
me the more I missed her and the more I hated them. So I
came up with a plan, I decided I would leave the town of
Janson and head down south as I had planned to do a year
and a half ago. I figured I would raise all the money I
could and get out of town, but not before getting even
with the people here in Janson. I knew just the way to get
even with them. I decided I would get them hooked on
heroin.

Chapter 12

I dug up the kilo of heroin I buried and began adding it to

the coffee at Trendies. In as little as two weeks time I
began to notice a line of people waiting for me when I
opened up in the morning. Everyday the line got longer.
In a month and a half I had to hire help for inside. I also
had to hire a delivery boy who took orders all over town.
Every time I saw someone new from Janson ordering
coffee it bought a smile to my face. Every time I saw
someone shaking because they needed a cup of my coffee
I smiled. I had them hooked even the mayor and the
whole police department was hooked. I was selling
coffee hand over foot. I was not only getting even with
the people of Janson I was becoming very wealthy. To
make the people of Janson suffer even more I began
selling my coffee for $3.50 per cup, which was unheard of
in 1986.

The cost of the coffee didn’t matter it could have cost

$100.00 per cup they would have still bought it because
they had to have it. I felt good that I was getting all of
them with my coffee and it continued for the next seven
months. I was having a ball watching the people of
Janson suffer. Things were going fine for a while then the
one thing I had not planned on happening, happened. The
mayor and a few other top ranking city officials checked
themselves into drug treatment programs. All of this was
done in secret, strictly confidential. No one knew. I
found out a month after the mayor had been admitted to
rehabilitation from a clerk who worked at city hall. It
seems the Feds wanted to know why so many city
officials were in rehab. The city clerk told me the Feds
had begun an investigation. When I heard that all the top
officials were in rehabilitation I was scared and also filled
with joy at the same time.

Patty, the clerk down at City Hall not only told me the
Feds were conducting an investigation on all the high
ranking officials in Janson; they were also investigating
three over dose deaths of men who had no history of drug
use. Patty explained that the whole thing was top secret
and there were a few agents in town. Upon hearing this
news of this I guess I don’t have to tell you I was in a
panic. I decided right then I would go home get my
money and get out of Janson as fast as I could.

I jumped in my car and headed towards my house. Little

did I know the Feds were following me all the way to the
house. When I pulled in my driveway the Feds swarmed
down on me like locust in a wheat field. As I sat in my
car watching them running around, a smile came to my
face. I know it sounds funny but for some reason I was
reminded of the time PawPaw took us on a three-day trip
to Arkansas to see his cousin Milton.

About half way through the trip PawPaw ran smack dab
into the middle of a locust storm. There must have been
millions of them. The locust storm was so thick PawPaw
had to turn on his wind shield wipers to see the road. As
we hit the locust storm I farted in the car. When the smell
hit PawPaw’s nose he turned around and yelled out,
“Wesley I’m going to beat the black off of you boy”.
When I saw the wild look in his eyes I began to laugh
uncontrollably. It seemed the more I laughed the more I
fated, and the more I farted the madder PawPaw got.

When we finally made it out of the locust storm PawPaw

pulled the car off the road and opened the door and leaped
out. He yelled for me to get out the car and come over to
him. PawPaw was standing in the middle of nowhere
holding his belt in his hand yelling at me. The funny thing
is that even though I knew PawPaw was about to beat the
hell out of me I still couldn’t stop laughing. I walked over
to him finally still laughing. When PawPaw looked down
at me laughing, he looked at the car covered in locust and
starting laughing himself. He dropped his belt and hugged
me and said, “Wesley, I love you. Can you help your
PawPaw clean all the locust off the car?” I never felt
closer to PawPaw than I did that day out there cleaning up
the dead locust.

The federal agents standing around my car must have

thought I was crazy. They were standing outside of my
car window with guns drawn yelling for me to get out of
the car. I didn’t hear a word they were saying. I was lost
in a place in time. My world was crumbling down all
around me and in my mind I was sharing a moment with
my grand father. When I heard the sound of braking glass
I was quickly snapped back to reality. The inside of my
car quickly began to fill with smoke. The Feds shot a
canister of tear gas through the back window of my car.
In a matter of seconds my eye were burning and tears
began falling from them. At the same time I couldn’t
breath. My lungs were filling with smoke. I opened my
car door and fell to the ground coughing and chocking.
The Feds quickly rushed in and handcuffed me. They put
me in an awaiting car and we drove off.

I was still coughing and gagging from the tear gas as we

drove off. When the driver began to talk and I heard his
voice I knew who he was, agent Don Harper. His words
hit me like a Nolan Ryan fastball in the face. Agent
Harper said, “Jonathan or should I say Wesly” then he
paused for a moment as if he were waiting on an answer
from me. I had nothing to say. After a moment of silence
he said, “Well what’s in a name? It’s all semantics. Mr.
Whitemore, you didn’t go far did you? You’ve been right
here all along.” Agent Harper let out a small laugh and
said, “It doesn’t really matter where you went, we never
looked for you”. Agent Harper then pulled the car over to
the side of the road and turned around and looked at me
and said, “We have a problem here Mr. Whitemore. Not
only are half the town’s leaders in rehab; there are at least
three deaths that can be directly linked to the coffee at
Trendies.

Up until that moment I hadn’t said a word, hell I hadn’t

been able to speak. I was chocking half to death. I
cleared my throat and said, “I got the heroin from you
guys and I also know that his whole investigation is top
secret; very hush, hush. How do you think the people of
Janson are gonna feel when they find out that the Feds
gave me the drugs that hooked them?” When I said that
Harper gritted his teeth and said, “What’s to stop me from
killing you right now?” When Harper said that my heart
began to beat fast, but I acted as if I weren’t bothered by
what he said. With confidence I said, “because if you kill
me, the friend that told me about your investigation being
top secret will go to all the news papers and tell them not
only what is going on here in Janson but how I was let go
in California and what happened to Nicky Moore and how
I got the drugs. This person knows the whole nine yards.

Harper began to laugh he said, “That’s a bunch of

bullshit! Now lets get real; I have a deal for you, be quite
and listen to what I have to say. It seems our friend
Walter X has an appetite for little boys. Its not wide
spread yet that is why I would like to stop this rumor in
it’s tracks. I’m taking a personal interest in this. I trained
Walter therefore it’s my call; and my gut feeling is this
thing is only going to get worse. Walter is a sick man.”
As Harper spoke my mind went racing back to the day
Walter X raped me. I began to get angry. I couldn’t sit
still, and my wrist began to hurt from being handcuffed. I
asked Harper to remove my handcuffs and he did.

I asked Harper what kind of deal he had for me? I was

willing to do anything if it would take Walter X down,
even though I didn’t trust the Feds. Harper made himself
real clear, “I want the sick mother fucker dead, he will not
be a blemish on my career. I am due to retire next year”.
Harper paused for a moment took a deep breath and said,
“If you do this thing for me I’m going to let you walk, I
will personally relocate you myself and I assure you we
will not come calling on you again. As I listen to Agent
Harper I was beginning to jump up and down on the
inside. Just the thought of killing Walter X made me want
to smile, but I didn’t. I knew if I acted to anxious Harper
would not give me as much. Instead I began to play
hardball. I said, “I don’t have anything against Walter X,
besides how do I know your are going to let me go?”
Harper answered, “You don’t know, now do you want to
do this thing or not?” I sensed Harper was getting uneasy
so I said, “I’d like to be relocated down south, Arkansas,
that sounds good. I would also like you to get Samantha
out of jail and finally I would like to keep all my funds
and I’ll do away with Walter X”. Harper said nothing for
a minute or so as if he were going over what I had just
said. He said in a low voice, “ Wesly there is no way I
can get Samantha out of jail her case is in every news
paper West of the Mississippi. You gotta save yourself
now. There is nothing I can do for her”.

I can still hear those words even today when I look at the
newspaper clippings of Samantha’s execution. I am sure
you realize by now I took Harper up on his offer. Walter X
was found stabbed to death with his heart cut from his
body. He was killed in much the same way that snoop of
a cop Ray was killed, what a coincidence.

Now that was 25 years ago. Since then I went back to

school and earned two degrees and believe it or not I am
currently teaching ethics at a local collage. By the way
Agent Harper chose not to relocate me to Arkansas.
Where I am I can’t say. But lets say I am somewhere in
the United States teaching ethics. Now this is the story of
my life the way I see it.

Now Dr. Franklin on the other hand tells quit a different

tale. He tells me that when I was eight years old I started a
fire at my home, which left my parents and two sisters
dead. After that I was placed in my grandparents care.
Two weeks after being placed with my grandparents, Dr.
Franklin says I started another fire which left my grandma
Wilma in a coma for three months. I was then removed
from my grandparents home and was sent to Patton State
Hospital. Dr. Franklin claims that I have been in the
Patton State hospital for the last forty years. The Doctor
claims that over the years I have made up hundreds of
stories in order to deal with the things I did in my
childhood. I for one don’t believe a word of what he says.
Now I ask you, whom do you believe?