Page 35 of This Is Law 3

They had the U.S. Marshals for my ass because they were going to be the ones to take me back into custody.

It wasn’t a straight through process though.

They took me to the back, where I waited in one of the holding cells inside the courtroom because it was still paperwork and shit that they needed to process.

I sat with my back against the wall, and the whole time, my leg was bouncing up, and down.

That power that I’ve always possessed, and the way that I always felt like I was above the law, and I would never get caught for my wrongdoings, that shit was quickly leaving me, and I was starting to feel like I didn’t have any kind of pull.

My name, nor my street cred didn’t mean anything in that courtroom.

I mean, it did, but all in negative aspects.

Like, in court, my name, and street cred is what they were going to use to bury me.

I had to put my faith in Dominic, and his team, in hopes that they would get me out of this jam, and the way shit just flopped in court, I really didn’t know if I could be too trusting in him.

The only thing that was giving me some kind of hope was me convincing myself that if Law had represented me, I more than likely would have gotten the same outcome.

My charges were too heavy to get bonded out.

I was eventually let out of the holding cell, and I picked up in one of the transport vehicles.

It didn’t take us long to make it back to the jail, where that was sort of a long process as well, but I was eventually let back onto the tier where my cell was.

They still had me shackled up, and I knew they weren’t going to remove this shit from me until we reached my cell.

I felt like the walk to get to my cell was longer than usual.

Everyone was in their cells, but it’s as if they were all standing by the bars, with their eyes on me.

Originally, when I was booked, and processed in this bitch, niggas were treating me like I was a fuckin king.

The only thing that was really left for them to do was pull their pens, and pads, asking me for my autograph.

Like we were on an episode of MTV cribs, they were showing me around the jail, telling me stories about how they looked up to me as being one of the biggest drug lords to ever come out of Miami.

They were comparing me to a legend like Wesson, which was an old legend to come out of Miami, and at one point, he had the biggest drug game out.

Niggas were giving me snacks from their commissary, letting me get their phone time, and shit like that.

No one believed that I would have to sit, and do time, so I felt like a lot of them niggas were kissing up to me the way that they were in hopes of when I got out, they would get out one day as well and be able to move weight for me.

Word moved fast throughout this bitch though.

The morning I met with Law, and that nigga put his hands on me, everyone had questioning looks because of the way I came back to my cell with a black eye, busted lip, and all the bruises, and shit that were on my arm.

No one asked though. No one had the balls to ask.

The correctional officers that had split up the fight from happening, they had to have been the ones to run their mouths because since then, the vibes in here have been different.

That pedestal that I was put on when I was brought in here, was no longer a thing.

Now, the energy wasn’t the same. Niggas wasn’t giving me any freebies, offering me their phone time, none of that shit.

The love had left. These dudes used to be waiting outside my cell, just so that they could dap me up.

Right now, all eyes were on me. The stares were heavy.

Motha fuckas were whispering shit amongst each other.

I wasn’t oblivious as to why the vibes changes.

Niggas had it made up in their mind that I killed Knox.

That was their legend. He was Miami’s legend.

Even with these dudes locked up, the love was still there behind these walls for Knox.

One of the dudes, who was in a cell under me, he used to move weight for us.

It was so many faces in here that were familiar to me.

I could feel it in my spirit that these niggas were plotting against me.

They were waiting for that perfect moment to catch me slipping, so that they could tag team my ass, and make a name for themselves.

I kept some shit tucked into the walls so that I could use it as protection.

I may be older than a lot of these dudes in here, but I was in the best shape of my life, and a lot of these scrawny ass dudes, I could take them out with my bare fuckin hands, so I dare one of them to even try me.

I was let back into my cell, and my cellmate Mario was inside.

Mario was in his early thirties, and he was facing big charges just as I was.

Nigga was a hit man, and someone close to him might have ratted on him because we were having a deep conversation not too long ago, and he told me how they were trying to pin multiple murders on him.

Mario was well known in the Miami area because a lot of dudes in the jail knew him, but prior to us being cellmates, I didn’t know who he was.

He was fuckin one of the C.O’s here, so she smuggled a phone in here for him, and that phone was the reason I was able to hit up Quay the other day for that favor.

I planned on calling that lil nigga tonight, just so I could see where he stood with taking care of that favor for me.

I was let back into my cell, after they removed the shackles from me, and Mario was up on the top bunk, and he was reading. He looked up from the book, and his eyes danced on me, starting from my head, and then dropping down to my feet.

“I’m assuming that you didn’t have your way in court,” he responded.

“Nah,” I was short with my answer, taking a seat down in the bed.

“Shit, hopefully that nigga do his thing for you once trial start. I’m not trying to feed you negativity, but Dominic currently taking on your RICO, and Reggie’s.

How the fuck is he going to be able to devote the amount of time into both cases is beyond me.

I just feel like one of you niggas going to get the short end of the stick, and I hope that it ain’t you.

I know you not a scary ass nigga, Dutch.

I know the power you have, but I feel like you need to get far away from this shit.

Getting a prison sentence not what you need.

Motha fuckas been in this bitch all day, saying how you’re the one that killed Knox.

I just don’t want them to try and kill your ass.

I know you ain’t do it though. I can tell you solid,” Mario finished.

I was so stressed out that I chose not to respond.

I was glad that the nigga decided to drop it because the way I was feeling right now, especially since shit didn’t work in my favor in court, I was liable to kill his ass.

I appreciated him for being able to read the room.

That nigga went back to reading his bible, and I got down in my bunk, lying on my back, putting my hands behind my head, wondering how I was going to get myself out of this shit.

11:58 p.m.

Mario gave me his phone before he turned over and went to sleep.

I climbed out of my bunk, going over to the cell bars, looking out, trying to see if any of the officers were working the floor tonight.

It was a quiet night, and the officers that were working tonight just finished walking the floors, so I knew that they wouldn’t make another round until another thirty minutes, so that left me with more than enough time to make this call to Quay.

I went back over to the bed, and I grabbed the phone that I had tucked underneath my pillow. I made sure to put *67 in front of his number, and then I dialed him. The call connected after the third ring.

“Yo,” he answered. I really hated that I had to go through this young nigga to do dirty work for me.

I was just thirsty to make Law hurt. That nigga was moving like a little bitch, leaving me in this situation to rot, so I had to do the unthinkable.

I knew how much his kids meant to him, and the only reason why I was going through Quay is because I knew the nigga was wild, reckless, didn’t have many morals, and he was close with Creed at one point, so it would be easy for him to be the one to take him out.

I promised that nigga shit that I couldn’t give to him because the feds came after everything that I had.

Traps, my home, my cars, spots that I had ducked off, they’d come for all of that, so there really wasn’t shit for me to give Quay once he finished the job.

The day I hit him, and he told me that he’d taken Creed out, I was either going to go ghost on him, or I was going to come up with some story about how the spot that I’d given him was hot right now, with the feds looking at it, so he couldn’t hit it up.

I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I was just looking out for myself like I always do.

“Ay, you finished that yet?” I asked him, getting right to the point.

“Not yet, man. He was out of town with his family. They just got back yesterday. I spoke to him, and we’re supposed to meet at the park this weekend. Ima do it then,” he responded.

“What park?” I wanted to know.

“Probably Scott lake. Shit be lowkey over there, and you know it’s not too far from where I am.

Man, I’m going to handle it. You promised me some shit that I desperately need right now.

Some money, drugs to push out on the street, and guns for protection will do me justice.

I’m not going to fuck this up, aight? You still got me, right? ” he asked for clarity.

“I got you, nigga. I wouldn’t promise you some shit that I wouldn’t be able to deliver,” I lied.

“Cool,” was all he said.

“You got heat, right?” I asked, just to make sure.

“I do, but that ain’t the way that I’m going to take him out. I gotta knife on me. Get his ass right in the throat. He’ll be out in seconds,” that shit gave me chills from the way he said it. Quay sounded like a fuckin menace, and like a smaller version of myself.

“Just make sure that your careful with that shit, man. Don’t get caught, and if you do, you better leave my name out of that shit. I told you that before,” I threatened.

“I got you, man. You don’t have to worry about me getting caught,” he replied.

“Aight. Ima hit you this weekend. Saturday night. That shit better be done by then,” I snapped, not even giving him a second to respond because I hung the phone up on him.

The second we hung up, I put a call in to my baby mama, Noelle.

I called her stupid ass well over five times, and she didn’t answer the phone.

I cursed her out not too long ago because when I hit up my security, he told me how she was allowing people to come inside Kross’s room to visit him, and I didn’t like that shit.

Ever since that happened between us two, she wouldn’t answer the phone for me, and that’s what was stressing me out more than anything because I didn’t know when that day was going to come, where she got fed up, and she decided to just tell those nurses to pull the plug on him.

Out of all the times throughout my life that I could have gotten locked up for this shit, I’ll never understand why it had to happen now.

It happened at a point where it felt like I didn’t have any fuckin control over my own life.

I did some wrong shit in this world, crossed a lot of people, killed a lot of people, and a lot of other evil shit, so I don’t know why I was expecting God to spare my son.

It was a harsh reality, but I had already accepted that Kross might not shake this shit.

I just didn’t want to still be in this cell if it were to happen and not be able to watch my son get laid to rest. That’s the part that was fuckin with me.