Page 12 of This Is Law 3

I kept rewinding, so that he could hear the part where he said, “Finds out that I killed you”.

That part of the video had to have repeated itself well over twenty times.

When I felt like I couldn’t bear the thought of hearing that shit anymore, that’s when I stopped playing it all together, and I sat back in the chair, arms crossed, looking this nigga in his eyes.

“You move like you this real ass nigga, and as if when God created you, He only made one version of you. You used to always boast about the fact that there could only be one Dutch Throne. If you’re this real nigga that you claim to be, look me in my eyes, and tell me that you heard on that audio the same shit that I heard.

Look me in my eyes and tell me that you took my pops away from me when I was only three years old.

Look me in my eyes, and tell me the truth,” my voice was calm because I had to play the game.

I knew that if I got buck with him and showed that monster side of me, that I wouldn’t get that confession from him that I so desperately wanted.

When he sucked his teeth, and I could feel the anger that was radiating from his side of the table, I knew that he was going to take the coward way out, and I wasn’t going to get the confession from him that I was looking for.

“Nigga, I don’t know if you got a hold of the shit that I was out here selling, but you sound stupid as fuck right now!

If that’s your version of hearing a confession from me, then you’re obviously not this big-time lawyer that I’ve made you out to be for all these years.

All I hear on that audio is a bunch of wind, and a nigga reciting some gay ass poem to his pops.

You sitting there trying to convince yourself that you hear some shit from me off in the background because for whatever fucked up reason, you have it made up in your mind that I’m your enemy, ever since you let your mama plant that bullshit in your head.

No disrespect towards you, or Knox, but I’m not worried about that shit right now!

I’m worried about the shit that I’m up against!

I’m worried about my motha fuckin freedom, and you coming down here on some straight bullshit!

” he roared, picking up his hands that were shackled together, and he slammed them down on the table.

There was a smile on my face because I was getting a rise out of this nigga.

Being an attorney for as long as I was, I knew that if you pushed, and pushed a person, telling them the harsh truth that they didn’t want to hear, it was only a matter of time before they got so angry, leaving them with no choice but to tell the truth.

“It’s no sense in talking about your case, man.

I pulled that shit up last night. The shit that they have on you, God would have to come down from Heaven, and sit in front of the judge, and tell him to let you walk away.

You rushing home to get back to a nigga that should be dead any minute now.

I heard about the way Kross got shot up.

That nigga not waking up from that shit, so accept the fact that when the feds came and swooped you up from his hospital room, that that would be the last time that you laid eyes on him.

Back to my pops though. What was the final straw that made you kill him?

Was it because he got more respect in the streets than you did?

Was he smarter than you? You didn’t like the idea of my pops basically being the boss, and having the final say so?

What was it? What would make a nigga stoop so low that they had to shoot their so-called best friend in the back? Tell me, Dutch,” I kept going on.

“Nigga, fuck you! Talk about motha fuckin disrespect! I took your black ass in after your grandma died, and I gave you a perfect life. I could have been a selfish ass nigga and let them hand your ass over to the system, and let’s see the kind of poor ass lifestyle that you would have had growing up.

You owe me your fuckin life because I made sure that I gave you the best one!

Niggas brag on you, and the shit that you do in the courtroom, but you gotta remember who made it possible for that shit.

I paid top dollar for you to go to the best private schools, and I handled your college tuition like it was nothing.

If I didn’t raise you, do you think that you would have had any of this shit?

And this the thanks that I get from you?

I’ll never extend my hand to another motha fucka in my life,” he was spiraling, and all I could do was continue laughing, while shaking my head.

“Whether I was put in the system, or not, I would have still come out on top. I got my daddy’s blood running through my body.

That hustling shit is in me, so I would have found a way to be great regardless.

You sitting here, steady bringing up what the fuck you did for me.

Nigga, you did that shit because you killed my dad, and it was on your conscious, so that’s why you chose to take me in!

Stop pretending like you did it out of the goodness of your fuckin heart.

Your intentions weren’t pure, bitch ass nigga!

” I roared, hopping up from the chair, losing the little bit of cool that I had left.

“Bitch ass nigga? Yeah, you know to say that shit to me while I’m chained up like this. You gotta be on the same shit that your mama was on talking to me like that?—”

I didn’t even give this nigga the chance to finish that statement.

The little bit of calmness that I had left went out the window as I reached for the wooden chair that I had been sitting in, and I launched that shit his way, making the legs of it come crashing his way, hitting him right upside the head with it.

I hopped across the table, and blacked out, and started beating the shit out of him.

I got at least a good minute into the fight before the doors were opening, and about three officers rushed in, pulling me off him.

Two of them went for either side of me, pulling me by my arms, and the other one came behind me, pulling me from the back of the suit jacket that I was wearing.

Dutch was out of the chair, with a face that was leaking in blood, as he lay on his back, looking at me laughing.

“Crawford, chill the fuck out! You can’t be doing that shit in here!

” one of the guards, whose name was Officer Smith said to me.

He was an older officer, and I’ve been seeing him for years.

We had a pretty good relationship because he knew my pops.

When I came to the jail, he would always tell me stories about any kind of memory that he had of my dad, and also remembering me when I was a baby.

“That’s going to cost you, Law. You gotta know that’s… going to cost you,” Dutch threatened, words coming out choppy from the ass beating that he just endured.

“Nigga, I bet I walk around this fuckin city still untouched, just like I always do. What the fuck you think going to happen to you once you get sentenced, and motha fuckas find out that you’re the reason why my dad is no longer here?

What the fuck you think them niggas going to do to you when they find out that you killed a legend?

You not going to be safe in this bitch! I know every attorney all up and through South Florida.

I’m going to make sure that none of them work with you, and if they do, I’m going to make sure that they play with your ass in court, so that you don’t get to see freedom again.

You a goofy ass nigga, man! You knew what the fuck you took from me, yet you had me in your face every day.

Nigga, I had my fuckin kids around you, yo.

I ought to fuckin kill you, man!” I tried to go for him again, but these niggas wouldn’t let me.

They had a strong hold on me, not letting me get to him.

The officer that had come in here with Dutch, he walked in the room, looking around, and you could tell that he was confused.

Officer Smith motioned for him to grab Dutch, and he did just that, pulling him off the floor, so that he could escort him to the back.

Dutch tried his best at taunting me his entire way out of the room.

He talked a bunch of shit, making all kinds of treats on his way out, and anything that he felt like would get a rise out of me, he was doing it.

To stand here and know that I was face to face with my pops killer, and to know that I had been face to face with him for years, really did put me in a bad spot.

I couldn’t explain that feeling to you, so I wouldn’t even try.

“Give us a minute. Let me talk to him,” officer Smith said to the other two officers that were left in the room with us. They gave him a questioning look, basically asking him if he was sure, and he nodded his head, assuring them that he was fine.

They walked out of the room, leaving just the two of us inside, and I was so angry that I couldn’t even sit.

I went over to the wall, paced back, and forth, and then I put my hands over my head.

Officer Smith walked over to me, and he stood right in front of me.

Smith had to have been in his mid-sixties, but he looked good for his age.

He was in perfect shape. The correctional officer uniform that he was wearing right now fitted him in a way where you could see the big muscles that he had in his arms, and there wasn’t a big belly that was hanging over his belt either.

Officer Smith had a bald head, and a clean face, and that’s what really made him look younger than he really was. I knew that he was married, and he had four beautiful daughters. He looked me in my eyes, standing right in front of me, and I could tell that he was sympathizing with me.

“Dutch killed Knox? What made you say that?” he asked me.

“I overheard it on an audio. That nigga did that shit,” my voice cracked because of how angry I was.

A tear managed to fall, and when it did, I quickly wiped it because I couldn’t show weakness in front of another man.

Dutch put me in a position now where I felt like I would forever have to be guarded, and like I wasn’t going to ever be able to trust anyone again.

My head was so fucked up right now that I couldn’t even let another nigga see me shed a tear in front of him.

When I revealed that to officer Smith, you could see the rage in his eyes.

I saw the way his jaws flexed, just as mine did upon hearing the news, when I’d gotten so angry.

Smith knew my pops. Like, really had a relationship with the nigga.

They weren’t the best of friends or nothing like that, but just being from Miami is how the two of them met, and they hung out a few times before.

The same way that he was fucked up behind this news was the same way that everyone was going to be fucked up when they learned that Dutch had been the nigga behind this shit after all.

He wasn’t going to be safe in this jail.

When his ass was booked, and processed for this RICO, and he had to go to prison, he wouldn’t be safe over there, either.

“Never in a million years would I have ever believed that Dutch was responsible for killing Knox. I watched their friendship. The two of them were like brothers. I can only imagine the way that this shit is hurting you, but Sevyn, you gotta calm down. You know I’m going to make sure that this video of you beating Dutch’s ass doesn’t get out, and trust me, none of the other officers are going to talk either, but you gotta relax.

You can’t let Dutch pull you out of character.

I saw his charges. That nigga not going home.

More than likely, he’s going to die in prison.

A nigga like that doesn’t have anything to lose, so that’s not someone that you want to go to war with.

You have a whole family out there, man. I agree with everything that you told him about getting his ass handled on the inside once word gets out that he killed Knox.

He took out a legend, and everybody from Miami still fucked up about the fact that we never got any answers from it.

He going to get handled, trust me, but you ain’t gotta be the one to do it.

It’s up to you to keep your head on straight.

I know the kind of nigga that Knox was. He’ll turn over in his grave if he found out that you threw your life away because of a nigga like Dutch.

Don’t even do that, man,” officer Smith responded, and I nodded my head at his words, needing to hear that shit.

He stuck his hand out for me to slap it up with him, and I did just that, and he pulled me in for a quick hug, and after that was done, I went over to the table, so that I could grab my briefcase, along with everything else that I’d come with.

The plan was to leave here, and go to the precinct, so that I could drop off this recording, and ruin Edward Sterling’s day, but this shit with me, and Dutch was heavy, so I think after this, I was going to call it a day.

I needed Yaya to run her work schedule down to me because I wanted to get the fuck out of Miami for a few days. I needed a vacation. I needed to be somewhere tropical, sitting on a high floor, that overlooked the beach, while I got my dick rode at four in the morning, as I drank pina coladas.