WHOLEHEARTEDLY, THE HOOD 2

Honestly

Hussein was done fighting with the police. He let them push him into the plain all-white room. Three brown metal chairs were placed around a metal card table. The scene was straight out of a movie.

“I thought the questioning came before the arrest,” he said aloud, taking a seat.

“That’s all we were taking you in for until you assaulted a police officer,” the older, grey-haired cop, Sam, muttered, sitting across from Hussein.

“You wanted to question me, so you pointed gun at me with kids in my truck? Makes sense that you only need a high school diploma to be a pig.”

Holt, the younger, shorter officer in the room, punched Hussein in his gut. “You’re not too smart yourself, are you?” he whispered in his ear.

“Where were you the night of May Seventeenth?” Sam asked Hussein.

“I’ll let you know when we get there. It’s April.” Hussein shook his head with irritation.

“Obviously we’re not speaking on May of this year,” Sam clarified.

“I barely remember last night, and you want me to remember last year?” Hussein twisted his lips up.

“Any May Seventeenth will do. I’m sure there’s one that’s sticking out like a sore thumb.” Holt paced the room. “It was about three in the afternoon. You were in East Baltimore. Not your side of town.” He raised his eyebrows as he gave Hussein hints that he never needed.

He knew what they were talking about the first time they said it. It was a day he’d never forget. His facial expression never changed. He sat there faking clueless, waiting for them to get to the point.

“You shot a man execution style,” Sam spoke.

“Boom!” Holt demonstrated with enthusiasm. “A bullet to the back of the head. And then you went and laid up with his sister. Tell me, Hugh, does Priscilla know that you killed her brother? I’d imagine she’d call the wedding off if she did.”

“If you knew anything, you’d know the wedding is called off. Your source gave you dirty information. How ‘bout we forget I whipped your co-worker’s ass, and I’ll forget that you wasted the city’s time with this bullshit ass information.” He smirked.

If they wanted Hussein to incriminate himself, they’d have to come harder.

ONISHA’S APARTMENT | 1:03 P.M.

“You shouldn’t have fucking come here,” Onisha spat, pulling her phone from her pocket with her free hand. The other was still holding the gun aimed between Prissy’s eyes.

“You didn’t have to open the door,” Prissy’s voice shook, hands trembling in the air.

“That bitch thought she was watching me,” Onisha spat, face screwed up looking at Cassidy’s dead body with disgust. “Whole time, I was watching her. I didn’t know who the fuck she was or what she wanted, but I was tired of ducking and dodging.

I like to face shit head on, especially since my circumstances have changed.

” She rubbed her stomach. “I thought she was a private investigator that my soon-to-be ex-husband hired. It even crossed my mind that maybe she worked for internal affairs. Turns out, she’s a fucking Turner. That’s worse.”

“She’s not a Turner,” Prissy defended. “She was just an associate. I’m not a Turner either. You could really let me go.”

Onisha dialed 9-1-1 while rolling her eyes at Prissy.

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?”

“Dispatch, this is Detective Robinson, badge number 692. I need a unit and an ambulance to my address immediately.”

“Sending units over. Are you the injured or is someone with you injured?” The dispatcher asked. Onisha was trying to catch her breath and didn’t respond fast enough for the operator. “Detective Robinson?”

“Uh, yes. I’m sorry. I’m pregnant and this baby is stealing the air from my lungs.” She sighed. “I have an African American female down, GSW to the chest.”

“Does the victim have a pulse?”

“I’m the victim!” Onisha yelled. “I discharged my weapon in self-defense. And no.” She took a glance at Cassidy. “She’s not breathing.”

“Help is on the way.”

“Thank you.” Onisha slipped her phone back into her pocket. “Now where were we?” She looked at Prissy?”

“I was saying that I’m not a Turner,” she repeated.

“You’re not a Turner, yet.” Onisha looked her up and down. “I know exactly who you are, Priscilla Younique Berry.”

“I prefer, Prissy,” she corrected.

“You think you get a preference in prison?” Onisha laughed. “Depending on how you answer my questions, that’s exactly where you’ll end up for murder. I can easily write a statement saying you killed your little friend.” She raised her eyebrows.

“What do you want to know?” Prissy’s heart raced hearing sirens get closer.

“What the fuck were y’all doing here? Why was she fucking following me? And you better talk fucking fast,” Nisha ordered through gritted teeth.

“We weren’t looking for you, specifically. We were looking for Boom’s baby mother. If we’d known you were a cop we’d have let you disappear into the wind. I swear it,” Prissy explained.

The building door opened and they both heard the sound of heavy steps getting closer.

“Go into a bedroom and lock yourself in there,” Onisha whispered, nodding her towards the door.

Prissy didn’t need to be told twice. She dipped into Nisha’s apartment like it was hers. Walking down the hall, she lightly jogged to the back room. She breathed a sigh of relief as she locked the door behind herself.

JAKIA’S APARTMENT | 1:25 P.M.

Jakia promised Carmell’s daddy that she would bring him by to see him once he returned home. She sent Dontrae a text as soon as they were back in the apartment.

After watching Hussein get his ass beat by the police in front of her apartment building, she could use a change of scenery. She put the boys in more comfortable clothing, and they were out once Jakia grabbed Carmell’s diaper bag.

There were still a few officers hanging around, Quinton was one of them. She rolled her eyes at him, hurrying to disappear.

“Why the police was beating on Hussein like that?” Khyell asked Jakia as she hooked Carmell into his car seat. “What he do?”

Jakia didn’t know the answers herself. They could be after Hussein for anything. The Turners had their hands in a few pots. It could never be said for certain what they had on him.

“I don’t know.”

“He not coming home?” Khyell asked.

“I don’t know,” she gave the same answer.

“You don’t know nothing,” he mumbled, sighing.

“I know you better watch who you talking to,” Jah snapped at him and he straightened up. “Whatever’s going on, you don’t need to worry about it,” she assured him. She saw Quinton walking in her direction. “Get in the car,” she ordered Khyell.

She managed to slip into the driver’s seat but was unable to shut the door as Quinton grabbed it. Q bent down, looking past her to her backseat.

“It’s not very nice to give a police officer the middle finger,” he said to Khy.

Instinct made Jakia turn around and pop Khyell’s leg. “Apologize,” she ordered through gritted teeth.

“Sorry,” he said, looking down at the floor.

“You got your apology, now get the fuck away from my car,” Jakia snapped on Q.

“Clear to see where he gets his disrespect for the law from,” he mumbled under his breath.

Jakia stepped out of the car. She spoke in a hushed tone so that the kids couldn’t hear. “I got more, you wanna go there?” Q sighed, stepping back. “You made your arrest now get the fuck out of my face.”

“I’m doing my job!” Q yelled at her. “You keep making this shit personal. Maybe make better choices about who you allow around you.”

“Starting with you. Stay the fuck away from me, Quinton. Make this the last time that I have to tell you that. Next time I see you, it’s gon’ be harassment.”

Jakia slipped into the car, slamming the door. She started the engine, pulled off, and immediately began checking Khyell.

“You think you’re an adult?” She looked at him through the rearview mirror.

“No.”

“Then why you think you can put your middle finger up? At a damn adult at that. And mind you he’s a police officer.

Khyell, you have to be mindful of what you’re doing and who you’re doing it to.

Being a kid ain’t enough of an excuse because you know better.

Ain’t too many little black boys getting second chances around here. ”

She hated to give it to him so raw, but it was the truth. Little black kids growing up in the hood didn’t get the luxury of being children too long. They learn to be aware of their surroundings before they can fully define what a surrounding is.

The news would call him a seven-year-old black male when he made a mistake. It didn’t help that he came from a bloodline that was known for crime.

When his last name was Turner, they were waiting for him to prove he was like the rest of them. He was conceived with a target on his back. The only thing he could do for himself was to be an upstanding citizen.

Jakia would make sure he knew how to be one, even if it was only pretend.

ONISHA’S APARTMENT | 1:41 P.M.

“You can come out,” Onisha called out to Prissy once her chief left her apartment.

She took a seat at her dining room table. Fiddling with a bottle of water she hadn’t yet finished, it went from her left hand to her right.

“I’m assuming you were suspended because of the baby?” Prissy asked.

She’d been eavesdropping from behind the door. She heard everything. Nisha got chewed out by her chief. The gun she used to kill Cassidy was registered, but it was not her police gun.

They’d have to tell the public that a suspended officer killed someone with her personal weapon. Which would also ruin the investigation they’d been doing on the Turners.

For now, Cassidy would be identified as John Doe to keep her identity hidden. Announcing her real name would send her family into an uproar. They’d have too many questions.

The wrong questions would impede on their investigation or shut it down completely. Not to mention it’d be putting Onisha’s life at risk because the news would be a big enough distraction for Tina to make a move for revenge.

“Long story.” Nisha sighed.

“We have time,” Prissy encouraged Nisha to spill the tea.