A Cold Piece of Work (36 page)

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, at the behest of the victims, we offered these defendants a plea deal that would've required a drug treatment program, and enrollment in a GED program so they could get their high school diplomas while serving three years in prison. I urge that this was the suggestion of the victims, the same people these young men threatened at gunpoint. Instead of accepting these generous terms, they arrogantly rebuffed the olive branch extended to them. That's why we're here today. As brazen as they were in carjacking this couple and threatening their lives, they are equally brash and arrogant in preferring a trial when they have been positively identified.

“Their position is that they are mistakenly identified and that they were sold Solomon Singletary's car by some friend who has since moved out of town. Amazing, right?

“Somehow, they expect you to believe these good people have misidentified them. Think about it: Someone puts a gun to your head, you don't forget their face, do you?”

It did not seem real to Michele or Solomon that they were sitting at the table at a felony trial, as if they were starring in an episode of
Law & Order
.

Michele was the first witness called to the stand. After a few
preliminary questions, the lawyer got into the heart of the case:

Bunch: “That night started out as something special, didn't it?”

Michele: “It did. We were at Café Circa and I decided then to tell Solomon he was the father of my son, Gerald. Solomon and I had dated eight years before, but just as I got pregnant, he moved here and we lost contact. We reconnected several months ago. I was nervous that night, but I told him the news.”

Bunch: “What was his reaction?”

Michele: “He was shocked at first, which was no surprise. We left the restaurant and sat in the car and talked about it. He was disappointed that he had missed seven years of Gerald's life, but he was so excited that he wanted to see him that night, even though he was in the bed sleep at my cousin Sonya's house. He insisted, so we headed to Sonya's house. When we got to the corner of Moreland Avenue and Hosea Williams Drive, those two young men jumped into the back of the car. It was chaos after that.”

Bunch: “Can you describe the chaos?”

Michele could feel the emotion of it all coming back. She took a deep breath. “Well,” she began, “they came in yelling and screaming. The one on the left there, he told Solomon to pull into the parking lot to our right.”

Bunch: “You're identifying Quintavious Moss?”

Michele: “Yes.”

Bunch: “Did you see his face?”

Michele: “Yes. I was in the passenger seat and he was sitting behind Solomon. I looked right into his eyes.”

Bunch: “What happened next?”

Michele: “Well, there was a bunch of screaming between the two of them. Finally the one behind me pressed his gun up to the back of my head. He said he was going to shoot me. His friend told him to wait because he wanted to get our money first.”

Solomon watched Michele testify and got angry. He had been able to put the experience aside because there was so much going on with Gerald. Listening to her recount that night reminded him of how scared he was and how angry.

Michele finished and was then cross-examined by the defense lawyer, Manuel Proctor, a well-known civil rights attorney.

“So, Miss Williams, if you were sitting in the passenger seat and this defendant, Kenyan Parker, was behind you, as you testified, how could you see his face?”

Michele: “I didn't see his face when I was in the car. I saw the other young man's face.”

Proctor: “So, as far as you know, he was not in the car.”

Michele: “The police said he was in the car when they recovered it.”

Proctor: “That wasn't my question.”

Michele: “I didn't see his face at that—”

Proctor: “That will be all, Miss Williams... Wait, I'm sorry. Actually, I do have another question. You said you looked into the face of Quintavious Moss. For how long? A second? Two seconds?”

Michele: “I don't know, maybe two or three seconds. Could've been four or five?”

Proctor: “In that short amount of time, with all that fear and chaos, as you described it going on in the car, how can you say without question that the person you saw in the car was Quintavious Moss?”

Michele: “Because I saw him. He had on a baseball cap turned to his left side. He was not clean-cut like he is now. He had braids or locs.”

Proctor: “Which one was it? Locs or braids?”

Michele: “Locs.”

Proctor: “You don't seem sure, Miss Williams. Anyway, let me ask you one last question. Have you ever had your purse snatched?”

Michele: “I did, about three or four years ago.”

Proctor: “Who did it?”

Michele: “They—the police—never caught him.”

Proctor: “What did he look like?”

Michele: “I didn't get to see his face; he came from behind me.”

Proctor: “How did you describe him to the police?”

Michele: “I told them what I saw: a young black male wearing jeans and a white T-shirt with locs hanging under his cap.”

Proctor: “Do you think all criminals wear locs, jeans and a baseball cap?”

Bunch: “Objection, your honor. Argumentative.”

Judge Gore: “Sustained.”

Proctor: “No more questions.”

Bunch, standing at the prosecution table: “I would like to redirect, Your Honor.”

Judge: “You may.”

Bunch: “Ms. Williams, you said you didn't see Kenyan Parker's face when you were in the car. But did you see it after you got out of the car?”

Michele: “I did. We got out and stood there as they got in the front seats. The young man behind me got in the passenger seat. And he pointed his gun at us as they drove off. That's when I saw his face.”

Bunch: “And are you sure it was the defendant, Kenyan Parker?”

Michele: “No doubt about it.”

Bunch: “Thank you. No more questions.”

Solomon was next on the stand.

Bunch: “Mr. Singletary, you heard the account of Michele Williams. How does yours differ from that night?”

Solomon: “It's very much the same. The only difference I can offer is that I not only looked into the eyes of both of those guys right there, I also had a conversation with them.”

Bunch: “A conversation? With a gun to your head? What did you talk about?”

Solomon looked out into the courtroom at his parents. His dad was stoic; his mom was mortified. Michele wiped tears from her eyes.

“It was more of a back and forth,” Solomon started. “I don't know where it came from. I didn't want to die, I didn't want to see Michele shot and I wanted to see my son. But as they were screaming for our money and talking about shooting us, I told them to stop. I can't sit here and act like I remember verbatim what we said to each other, but I told that one right there, Quintavious Moss, who had the gun pointed at my head, ‘Get that gun off of my neck. You don't want to shoot me and you don't need to. We're giving you what you want.'

“He said, ‘You think we playin'? Gimme your money. Then you'll see who's not gonna shoot somebody.'

“I told him I had just learned that I was a father. He said, ‘What the eff that mean to me?'

“I don't know why I did, but I sensed something in him. I said, ‘Look at me, man. You look like my cousin. We can't keep doing this to each other. Where's your father?'

“He said he didn't have a father. I said, ‘So you want to put my son in that same position?'

“The other guy, Parker, who had the gun to Michele's head, he said, ‘Man, eff what he talking about.'

“I just kept going. I said to him, ‘Look at her. Doesn't she look like your sister or mother or aunt?'

“He grew angrier and said, ‘Hell, no.'

“I said something else about being a father but he didn't want to hear it. He told Moss to shoot me.

“I said, ‘Don't do it. You can take the car and the money. That ain't necessary. We're getting out the car and ya'll can go on. I got to be a father to this kid.'

“The guy behind me pulled his gun away from me. And it got quiet. We stared at each other for a few seconds. Then he said, ‘Come on, man, let's go.'

“The other guy wasn't happy. He said they had to shoot us. But the young man behind me said, ‘Let's just go.' Then he told us to get out. Kenyan Parker said, ‘What? Man, we got to shoot these fools.'

“But I made some kind of connection with the other guy. He said, ‘Let's just go.' Then he told us to get the eff out. And we did. And they drove off, with Parker pointing a gun at us as they pulled away in my car.”

On cross-examination, Proctor asked Solomon: “What time of night did all this allegedly happen?”

Solomon: “Allegedly? It's not alleged. We were carjacked; by those guys. And it was after midnight.”

Proctor: “Did you turn the lights on inside your car?”

Solomon: “No.”

Proctor: “So how could you see the men if the light wasn't on in the car?”

Solomon: “It wasn't pitch-black. There were streetlights on. There was enough light because I saw them both clearly.”

Proctor: “You must have the eyes of a bat... No more questions.”

Solomon sat in the witness chair for a few seconds, staring at the defendants. Then his eyes shifted behind them, to their families. They looked defeated. Embarrassed. And they looked like they wanted more for those kids.

W
hen Solomon left the witness stand, the judge ordered a break for lunch. Solomon watched as the defendants turned to make eye contact with their families, as the marshals placed them in handcuffs.

A young woman whose eyes told of a hard life blew a kiss to Quintavious Moss. The young man looked remorseful that his family was involved in this drama.

The woman did not move until the defendants were ushered out of the courtroom, back to their cells. She shook her head, took a seat on the bench and pulled out some tissue to wipe her tears.

Solomon figured it was one of the kids' mothers. After they refused the plea deal, he declared he wanted them off the streets “where sane people live.” Seeing Moss' mom so hurt turned his cold disposition warm.

He excused himself from the defense table with Michele and the prosecutor and made his way to the crying woman.

“Excuse me,” he said.

She looked up and was shocked to see Solomon standing over her. She did not say anything.

“Can I sit down for a minute?” Solomon asked.

The woman nodded her head. Solomon sat. “Are you Quintavious' mother?”

She nodded her head again. “I'm sorry this is happening,” he said.

The lady looked up at Solomon and turned away.

“What's your name?”

“Lucy,” she said. Her voice was that of a broken woman.

“Lucy, what happened to your son?”

She shook her head. “I don't know. He's a good boy, a good big brother to his sister. But I believe it's my fault. I ran his father away from him. He was happy, normal when his dad was around. Three years ago, I couldn't take the cheating and I told him to leave for good this time. I didn't think he would go and leave his children behind. But he did.

“Q looked up to his dad. When he left, he kinda fell apart. He started being angry all the time. He stopped going to school and started hanging with that damned Kenyan and other bad apples. And now he's here.”

“You think he wants to go to jail for a long time? I ask because we tried to get him to take a sentence that would help him,” Solomon said.

“He's playing a fool to the streets,” she said. “He thinks it makes him tough to not take a deal and to just do the time. I don't want this for him. And if his father knew this was going on, he would've made him take the deal. He loves me and respects me but he thinks I don't know what I'm talking about.”

“Do you know where his father is?” Solomon asked. “Maybe you could tell him to come down here and talk to your son.”

“He's around. My sister said her girlfriend saw him yesterday at Greenbriar Mall,” Lucy said.

“Could you call him and see if he would talk to your son? I'll talk to the lawyer. Maybe we can make the offer again,” Solomon said.

“I can get a number and call his daddy,” Lucy said. “But why are you doing this? Why are you being nice to someone who took you through something like that?”

“Because it's the right thing to do,” Solomon said. “I was mad
and bitter. But I saw you and I realize he has a family that cares about him. And, that night he really prevented something bad from happening. I could tell he didn't want to shoot me.

“And the other thing is, if we don't try to help these young men, who will? I ain't no saint, Miss Moss. But I believe you when you say he's a good kid doing bad things. Maybe we can save him. We should at least
try
to save him.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said. “I'm going to get my cell phone from security and see if I can convince his dad to come down here.”

Solomon went to Ms. Bunch and Michele. “We should try a plea deal with them again,” he said.

“Solomon, the trial has already started,” Bunch said.

“But I watch TV; a deal can still be made,” he said. “I don't want to see these kids get caught up in the prison system without giving them a chance to get better.”

He looked at Michele. “We have a chance to help them. That was Moss' mother I was talking to. She's hurting. She doesn't want to see her son get convicted for fifteen years.”

Michele smiled. “Look who isn't so cold anymore,” she said. “I agree with you. Let's try to help them.”

Bunch asked the judge for a continuance until the next day, while Lucy tried to reach and then convince Quintavious' dad, Quintin, to talk his son into taking a plea deal.