Corruption Officer (11 page)

“No, poppie, please noooo!
 
Please don’t take it.
 
I need it!”
 

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to
let it go!” I said.

Right now I am on another suicide
mission of trying to make a buck.
 
I‘ve
teamed up with a store that rents out items to people with bad credit.
 
My job is, when they don’t make the monthly
payment, I go and retrieve the items.
 
So
now I am here at an apartment with a Spanish lady who is pleading with me and
my team for us not to take the box-spring and mattress that she was behind in
her payments on.
 
I am holding the bed up
and my partner is prying her fingers off of it.
 
I shake my head wondering to myself, ‘What
kind of stupid shit have I gotten myself into?’
 

“Poppie, please, my back I have
back pains.
 
I can’t sleep without this
bed,” she cries.

My partner wasn’t hearing any of
it.
 
He continued to yank the bed out of
her house and down the hall to the elevator.
 
She crumpled to the floor and continued to sob
out loud and to curse us out in Spanish.
 
I stepped over her and went down the hall to
help my partner put the items into the elevator.
 

“Yo’ do you think that we should
have at least let her keep the mattress?”
 
I asked my partner.

“Shiiiiiiit, that’s a hundred
mother fuckn dollars!” he said, “Do you have a hundred dollars in yo’ pocket
right now!?”

I shook my head no.
 

“Aight then!” he said.

Then we continued to push and cram
the items into the elevator.
 
I took one
last look down the hall at the female.
 
She
was sitting on the floor in front of her apartment – crying.
 
I shook my head in disgust at myself because
I knew that I knew better.
 
And, oh yeah,
did I mention that she was seven months pregnant?
 

We continued on our way with the
list of apartments that we had to confiscate other items from.
 
By the end of the day, we made out pretty
good.
 
Well, that was up until we were
making our last stop.
 
My partner and I
were outside an apartment where we had just successfully run our routine on a
tenant in order to limit our involvement in this whole repo-man process.
 
Thus limiting our chances of getting into
trouble for what we were doing.
 

It went like this, I would knock
on the apartment door like I was the Police, and when the person inside looked
through the peephole to see who was knocking, I would show my Corrections badge
which looked like a Police Officer’s badge.
 
The person inside would open their door
puzzled as to why the Police were knocking on their door and at that moment the
representative from the store would step into view with the contract agreement
in hand that the said client had signed to get the items.
 

Now, normally the person would
slam the door in the representative’s face but seeing that a cop was standing
right there they would give in and let us retrieve the items.
 
Me
standing there
with my badge around my neck (of course with my name and numbers taped up so
that they could not be seen) and my firearm exposed on my side helped the
situation along.
 
Every now and then we
would have to put some extra icing on the cake by using radios and
communicating using Police jargon like, “Yes, we have the suspect insight” and,
“Have the backup stand-by in case of resistance.”
 
Once they heard the response on the other end,
“10-4,” they threw their hands up and gave in.
 

The shit went pretty good and we
were standing outside adding up what we were getting paid.
 
My partner was saying, “Let’s see, we get $100
dollars if we get the items and $50 dollars just for knocking on the doors of
the ‘not at homes.’
 
Plus, hazardous duty
pay because when we show our badges in these neighborhoods the people behind
the door may have warrants or be drug dealers and think that we came there for
them and not the items.”
 
So were
standing there and all of a sudden the worker from the store came running out
of the building!
 
He jetted by us and
jumped in the car leaving me and my partner standing in front of the building
dumbfounded.

We walked over to the car, got in
and asked him what happened.
 
But before
he could say anything, two actual Police cars, with sirens wailing, pulled up
to the building.
 
The Police jumped out
with guns drawn and ran into the building.
 
I waited until they were all the way in the building
then I peeled off down the block getting out of there!
 
After we collected our money, my partner
slapped the shit out of the worker for not telling us that the tenant called
the cops on two people impersonating the Police.
 
That was the end of that gig because later on
we found out that other cops had gotten fired for doing the same thing for this
store.
 

When we got off it was late.
 
I made a mad dash to get my medication, yep,
at the liquor store.
 
I bought a half gallon
of Hennessey and was on my way to see a “hood booga.”
 
(Hood booga - any low self-esteem female in
any hood that is on welfare with a bunch of kids, that did not have a job, no
goals, no ambitions and was comfortable with lounging around all day collecting
her food stamps, that will give up the cookie to any City employee due to the
fact that he has benefits…..yeah, I said it!).
 
These are the females that I preyed on for
those very reasons because when you’re going through something and have long
hard days at work you need a three hole, minimum requirement, down for whatever
sex you desire female.
 
Personally, I
think women like this need a holiday named after them.
 

On my way to her house, I stop to
get the equipment I need;

bag
of
weed - check,

chicken
wings and French-fries - check,

condoms
-
check-check!
 

Oh yeah, I almost forgot, a big
ole bag of sunflower seeds that she eats all day while watching
television.
 

It’s close to three a.m. when I
get to her house.
 
I hear the music blasting
when I get of the elevator.
 
Hey, why not,
she doesn’t have to get up in the morning.
 
I knock on the door and I hear her yelling at her kids as she unlocks it,
“Ya’ll better go to bed!
 
Taquan, I told
you to move your toys out the hallway!”
 
I
thought, ‘Great, the kids are up and don’t they have school in the morning?’
 
She opens the door with nothing on but a
t-shirt and a joint in her hand.
 
I don’t
do drugs and I hate smoking cigarettes, weed – it’s all the same to me.
 

“Hey boo,” she says.

“What’s up, baby” I say.

She goes to give me a kiss and I
turn my head.
 
She gets the side of my
face.
 
She’s not offended.
 
She knows what it is.
 
I go inside and it’s the normal setting, toys
and bags of unwashed clothes on the living room floor, along with a couch and a
television.
 
I give her the bag of weed
and the chicken she says, “Thank you.
 
They
ain’t had
nothing
to eat all day.”
 
Then she goes into the room with her kids.
 
I hear her instructing them to stay in there
and go to bed after they finish eating the chicken wings.
 
I take off my jacket, sit on the couch and get
comfortable.
 
I open the liquor and start
drinking it from the bottle.
 
She comes
back with her cup and fills it up.
 
It
doesn’t take long before I am feeling nice and can tolerate the strong weed
smoke.

She’s still smoking when she gets
down on her knees between my legs and starts to unzip my pants.
 
She pulls me out and starts to kiss on me
between puffs and I don’t even care because I pick the bottle up and take it to
the head for a couple of seconds letting the air bubbles flow back into the
bottle.
 
Now she has me in her mouth and
starts to one handedly unbuckle my belt.
 
I take my gun out of the holster and place it
by me on the couch.
 
With my pants now
down by my ankles, she goes to work and the shit feels so good.
 
I grab the back of her head and start to drift
in and out thinking about my life right now.
 
I am so tired of all these crazy jobs that I
have to do now in order to stay afloat.
 
Ever
since this situation started I have not really seen my kids.
 
I don’t know if it’s the fact that I am always
working or if it’s just that I plainly resent the fact that she took me to
court.
 
Damn this shit feels good is what
I thought as I open my eyes to watch her performance.
 
Then all of a sudden her youngest child comes
running into the living room!
 
She stops
in mid-goggle and I half-ass sit up but she nudges me to lean back and with one
hand still around me she yells for him to get back in that room and go to bed!
 
He looks at her, grabs his favorite stuff
animal off the floor and runs back into the room. She continues her assault and
before long I am releasing my tadpoles into her mouth to seek out her tonsils.
Then she stands me up and I grab the bottle, my gun and hold up my pants as she
pulls me pass the kids’ room and into her bedroom.
 

There we knock all the clothes off
the bed and onto the floor and get butt naked.
 
I drank some more from the jug as I admired
her body.
 
She takes off her shirt and
climbs up on the bed on all fours.
 
She
has big flabby tits and a gut to go along with a big round cheddar cheese
cellulite butt.
 
To put it short…..I am
in heaven.
 
I mount her and quickly get
into a rhythm and all you hear is the cranking from her raggedy bed.
 
I slip out and proceed to put it in her third
whole and as I look down to get into position I vaguely see that my condom have
popped, I don’t care because I am so gone now and this tight shit feels so good
that I just can’t stop!
 
She moans and
says, “Damn baby, that feels good.
 
You
fit right in there.”
 
I think to myself, ‘Is
that a compliment or an insult?’
 
Now I
am vigorously hitting it.
 
I am up on my
tippy toes so that I can hit it at a better angle.
 
I am sweating and farting and shit and I have
her bent over with her gut on the bed.
 
My
gut is on her back.
 
Her
titties flapping.
 
My titties flapping.
 
I am in bliss.
 
I reach down and pick up the bottle and drink.
 
I got Hennessey pouring out from the
side of my mouth and dripping down my chest.
 

While I am still hitting it, I
bring the bottle down and for the first time I notice the large mirror that she
has on her dresser.
 
The view of
myself
that I see is disgusting.
 
I think to myself, ‘You’re not living right.
 
Your job situation is out of control and you’re
a drunk.
 
I can hear my momma say, “You ought
to be ashamed of yourself!”’
 
Just when I
was starting to feel sorry for myself she tightened up on me, I grunt uhhh and
any remorse or guilt that I might have been feeling just skated right out of
me…..
   

Boom!
 
Boom!
 
Boom!
 
I am awakened with my mother banging on
my room door.
 
I look over at my clock
and it says 2:30 am.
 
I answer her half
sleep, “What’s the matter?”
 

“There’s somebody one the phone
for you named Marshal,” she said.
 

Now I am puzzled and wondering why
is an Officer from my job calling me at this time of morning? I make my way to
the phone and on the other end I hear, “Gary Heyward?”
 
I say “Yes” and the voice on the other end
lets me know that he is the City marshal and he’s there to repo my van.
 
I put the phone down on the table.
 
My heart sunk.
 
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
 
My mother notices the look of despair on my
face and asked me what happened?
 
I
momentarily ignore her question and pick up the phone and he says, “Hello!
 
Are you there?”
 
I say, “I’m here.”
 
Then he says, “Well I see that you have an Officer’s
plaque in the window.
 
So that’s why I am
giving you a courtesy call so that you can come down and get any personal items
that you may have inside the vehicle.”
 
I
say, “Thank you. I’m on my way down.”
 
A
few weeks have passed and all the suicide jobs fell through.
 
All of my resources to get money have dried up
and the bills just kept piling up. I knew this day was coming, I was behind in
my payments and I knew that I could not keep playing hide and seek with my van
parking it in different spots praying that when I came out in the morning to go
to work the next day that it would be there.
 
Plus I owed about a gazillion dollars in parking tickets. After I
retrieved my items I stayed up until it was time for me to go to work. Since I
no longer had a vehicle, I had to leave at least an hour and a half earlier in
order to get to work on time via mass transit.
 
I got dressed and left on time.
 
I
walked slowly to the bus stop because I didn’t have a dime to my name not even
carfare to get to work. When the bus pulled up I took a deep breath because I
knew that I was not supposed to be using my badge to get on for free, but I had
no choice, and some of these bus drivers really act like they’re paying your
fare out of their pockets if they let a Corrections Officer on for free but if
I was NYPD it would be no problem. Some of these drivers ask you to pull out
your I.D. because our badges are so similar.
 
I waited to be the last one so that the
embarrassment would not be so bad if the driver gave me a hard time.
 
He didn’t and I breathed a sigh of relief and
sat down.
 
All the way to work I just
kept thinking that something has got to give.
 

I arrived at work and took my post
which now was my steady which meant no more rotating schedule and different
times to be at work.
 
My post was called
area 8 upper and my permanent hours were 7 am to 3 pm.
 
It was bitter sweet though because my area
housed high classification inmates.
 
All
of them were fifty plus.
 
So, in short, I
had all murderers and drug king pin type inmates.
 
I started my shift with Flocko in my face
asking me if I was all right because I didn’t look so good. He started making
jokes about me looking like a bum with my face unshaven, my hair not cut and my
bummy wrinkled uniform.
 
I really had not
noticed my appearance and didn’t care so I laughed at him because we were real
cool and I’ve known his whole family since we were kids.
 
He had been trying to get me to bring him stuff
in for a few months now whenever he got the chance to see me in passing.
 
Now that I was his area Officer I knew that he
would not stop but I also knew that he knew how far to take it.
 
He went on with his workout and I went back
to doing my job and stressing about my situation.
 
The day went on with me drifting in and out in
disbelief that I no longer had a vehicle. I walk to the back of my housing area
so that I can get a signal on my cell phone in order to check my messages.
 
I think to
myself
, ‘At
least that’s still working.’
 
Beep, first
message from my moms, “When you come home can you stop by the super market and
pick up some butta-beans? I thought I had some in the cabinet and don’t forget
I need my change (the rent) this week.”
 
Beep, my moms again, “You got a letter from
that loan you applied for they said no because you had too many garnishments
also go to C-Town grocery store because they have the beans on sale and I don’t
like that manager of the other store on the corner.”
 
Beep, my baby momma, “Your daughter needs some
sneakers so could you get them this week?
 
I didn’t get my check yet (my child support
payment).”
 
After this message my blood
begins to boil.
 
I think about her words
and repeat them, “My check!”
 

I know that I have to take care of
my kids but the thought of her getting my money like that and her not having
any accountability as to where my money is being spent just burns me up!
 
I mean she could be spending it on anything
and anybody and it ain’t shit I could do about it.
 
The court is making sure that they keep track
of me paying her but no one is keeping track if that money is being spent on my
kids!
 
How can she fix her mouth to say, “My
check didn’t come yet,” as if she’s in here with me dealing with murderers and
shit?
 

My day drags on and I go check to my
messages again.
 
Beep, it’s the “hood
booga” telling me that she has some news for me…..she’s pregnant!
 
I yell out, “Fuck!”
 
Then I throw my phone against the wall and it
shatters!
 
This brings attention from
some inmates working out nearby.
 
I put
my hands on my head and pace back and forth.
 
My thoughts were, ‘Of all the stupid things for
my dick to do at a time like this!
 
This
can’t be happening.
 
Let me think, let me
think, did I cum in her?
 
I do remember
wearing a rubber.
 
I know I didn’t go up
in their raw smiggady.
 
Damn, I have to
get to a phone.’
 
I pick up the pieces to
my phone and go to the Officers’ station to get an outside line.
 
Frantically, I call the main control room so
that they can give me an outside line and they connect me to the H.B. I know
that you’re not supposed to talk your business on these lines but I am
desperate and have to get to the bottom of this. She answers the phone and I
say, “What’s up?”
 
Then she goes in to, “Oh
you can’t call
nobody
back?
 
You been ignoring a bitches call, but as soon
as I tell you I am pregnant bliiing here you go!”
 
I said “Are you sure?”
 
She said, “Yes, I am sure and before you come
at me nigga it’s yours!”

I am stuck.
 
She continues, “I ain’t got
no
coverage so unless you give me the money for an abortion I am having it.”
 
I don’t say anything at first.
 
Then I told her I’d call her after I get off
work.
 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I say to
myself of all the stupid things that I have done in my life I go and make my
shit worse!
 

I think to myself, ‘I know this
chick is lying.
 
I just feel it but what
am I going to do?
 
She’s got me fucked up
right now.’
 
I know I ain’t about to have
a baby with her and start this shit all over again especially after what I am
going through right now and I know that she is definitely plotting on doing the
child support thing with me.
 
I begin to
panic.
 
I think to myself that, ‘I got to
get this money up somehow.’
 
I start to
pace the floor again in the Officers’ station and then Flocko comes up to the
station to ask if I can open the shower for him. I look at him for a long
moment and he looks at me puzzled like, ‘Why am I looking at him like that?’
 
I then tell him to go ahead in the
shower.
 
I sit back and take a look
around me as if I am being watched and I think to myself, ‘I know what I have
to do….’