Mama's Boy (7 page)

13

G
loria groaned at the sight of Detective Martin at her front door. The scowl on his face told her that this was not likely to be a pleasant visit. And since he hadn't tackled her to the floor, she could only assume that they didn't know that she knew where Jamal was.

Elton had been furious all night. He'd even gone as far as calling her a liar. She didn't dispute that, but she wasn't about to make apologies for it now. In fact, she almost let him know that she was sorry she even told him about Jamal in the first place. But no need in making an already tense situation worse.

Elton was on edge and wouldn't stand for them hiding Jamal for long. They'd spent a little more time with Jamal, then left with the promise to return tonight. Although Elton had finally settled down, Gloria knew the only thing he would support would be for Jamal to turn himself in.

Elton had gone to the church with an attitude this morning and told her they would have a serious discussion when he got home.

“Good afternoon, Detective Martin, may I help you?” Gloria asked.

“Yeah, by telling me where your son is,” he snapped.

“I told you, I don't know.” She wiped her hands on the dish towel that she'd been holding when she opened the door. Not that her hands were wet, but she didn't want Detective Martin to see them trembling.

“Cut the act, Mrs. Jones. We know you've been in contact with your son.”

“You know no such thing,” she replied, struggling to keep her voice steady. “I told you what I know.”
If he knew more, he wouldn't be at your door chitchatting
, Gloria kept telling herself. “I will not have you coming to my house and harassing me.”

He jumped in her face. “You do know that I will throw you in jail along with your murdering son.”

Gloria was shaken but she didn't move. “I don't know what you want me to do,” she said, not taking her eyes off of him.

He slammed an open palm on the door. “I want you to tell me the truth. Where is he?”

The rage in Detective Martin's eyes sent a wave of fear throughout her body.

“I. Don't. Know,” Gloria said. “I told you that if we hear from him, we'll let you know.”

“I just want to be very clear,” he growled. “If I find out you had anything to do with hiding or harboring him, you and your husband are going down.”

“If you don't get off my front porch and stop threatening my wife . . .”

Gloria had never felt so relieved to see her husband. She hadn't
even heard him pull up. Detective Martin turned and sneered in Elton's direction.

“What? You gon' shoot me like your son shot Officer Wilkins?”

“Detective Martin,” Elton said, his voice calm, “we are trying to be cooperative, but you will not harass my wife.”

Detective Martin stood erect, trying to compose himself. He glared at both of them. “You'd better hope I don't find your son first. And that right there
is
a threat.”

He stomped off the front porch.

Gloria sobbed as soon as he was gone. Elton moved in, closed and locked the door, then took her into his arms.

“It's going to be okay, sweetheart. I know you're scared. Shoot, I'm scared, but God will work all of this out,” he said. “But we can't do this, have these people harassing us. We have to get Jamal to turn himself in.”

“He's not going to do it,” Gloria replied. She'd gotten Naomi to check on Jamal this morning. Of course, Naomi's main concern was when he was leaving. But she loved Jamal, and the desperation in Gloria's voice must've been enough to convince her to help. Naomi had reported back to Gloria that it had taken everything she had to convince him to keep waiting.

“Then we have to turn him in,” Elton said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Turn in our own son? To these people? Are you crazy? Did you see the look in Detective Martin's eyes?”

“What other choice do we have? Jamal killed a man. A policeman.”

“Jamal is not a murderer,” she found herself saying.

“And the court will see that.”

Gloria broke free and paced across the living room floor. “Really? You think with this high-profile case, our boy stands a chance?” The local media had been covering the case nonstop. TV and newspaper reporters from Houston and other Texas cities had been calling around the clock. Yesterday, they got a call from a CNN producer, which meant the story was about to go national.

“We have to stay prayerful,” Elton said.

Gloria had the faith of a mustard seed. But she also knew God gave people free will. And that will was running rampant in the Jasper Police Department, which was hell-bent on stringing up her son. “I can't turn in my son,” she said with finality.

“Do you really want Detective Martin to get a hold of him? At least if we turn him in, it'll be on record. We can even call, what's that activist's name in Houston that helps people turn themselves in?” He thought for a minute. “Tyriq X. That's him. We can get him to escort Jamal in. You know the cameras follow him everywhere. That way, they'll be less likely to harm him. But Jamal has to turn himself in.”

“I know,” Gloria said, her heart breaking. “But I can't do it. I can't just hand my son over to them.”

Elton stomped away. “There you go babying him again. In case you haven't noticed, he's crossed over into grown folks' territory now. What are you planning to do? Help him run off so we can never hear from him again? Are we supposed to let the police harass us forever, showing up at our door and at church?”

“I don't know,” Gloria cried.

Elton removed his wallet from his pants pocket and tossed it on the counter with his keys. “I'm going to change. Then I'm going back up to the church. Then, this evening, we're going to get our son and turn him in.”

Gloria let him leave. The look in her husband's eyes told her he meant what he just said—it was over. He would no longer support anything other than Jamal turning himself in. And she wasn't ready to do that—yet.

It wasn't just a motherly connection, but she knew Jamal didn't mean to kill that police officer. And she bore some guilt at how it all went down. Maybe if she had kept a tight rein like Elton wanted . . .

I just need some money.

Jamal's words rang in her head. Maybe if she got the money, he could disappear and let the anger die down. If he just went away for a while, police would calm down and they could turn Jamal in. The more she thought about it, the more she felt that was her answer.

Gloria tiptoed to the safe in the back closet and opened it, careful not to make any noise. There was two thousand dollars there that Elton kept in case of an emergency. She would pay for this later, but Elton's wrath was a price she was willing to endure to help her son. Gloria took all the money, then closed the safe and eased out of the room.

14

I
t was official. She was a criminal. Not just for harboring a fugitive, but for drugging a police officer. Well, Gloria hadn't actually drugged anyone, but she had taken the officer parked outside her house for the past hour a cup of coffee. She'd done it once before, so it's not like it was anything unusual. But this time, she'd been praying he'd take it because the sleeping pill she'd crushed up in the coffee was the only way she'd be able to get out of the house and get to her son. It had taken less than thirty minutes, but the minute she saw the officer dozed off in front of her house, Gloria grabbed the duffle bag full of supplies and darted to her car, which was parked in the garage. Elton had been gone an hour and she needed to act fast before he got back.

Fifteen minutes later, Gloria pulled into the same spot in the alley behind Naomi's house. She reached in the back and grabbed the duffle. As soon as her hand touched the bag, a wave hit her consciousness. Was she really about to help her son run?

“It's only temporary,” she muttered to herself. If Detective
Martin hadn't threatened her, all but told her he would kill Jamal if he ever got his hands on him, maybe she'd have some faith in the system. But right now, they didn't even have an attorney. Perry wouldn't be back in town until tomorrow and Jamal was right. The only option he had right now was to run.

It hurt Gloria's heart to think of her son out on his own, in fear for his life, dodging the authorities. Where would he go? What would he do? Gloria had gone to a pay phone near the beauty salon this morning and called her cousin in Florida. Of course her cousin didn't want to get involved, but she had a friend who would be willing to put Jamal up until they worked all of this out, got an attorney, and found some way to keep him safe.

“Jamal, it's Mom,” Gloria called out once she made her way to the back of Naomi's house. She prayed that he hadn't decided to go ahead and bolt already.

Naomi had been staying with a friend because she said she didn't want to risk being in the house if Jamal was found. She'd given them until today to get Jamal out. Everybody was in fear.

There was some rattling in the closet, then Gloria said, “I'm by myself.” She pulled the door opened and saw Jamal still cowering in the corner.

“Have you been like that the whole time?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Have you eaten?”

He nodded again. “I had some crackers.”

“Well, I brought you a plate,” she said, pulling out chicken and dumplings, his favorite. He grabbed the plate and devoured the food. He ignored the plastic fork and picked up dumplings with his hand, stuffing six in his mouth at a time. Before he even finished
chewing those, he gnawed off a big piece of the chicken leg. The sight of him eating like a caveman broke her heart.

“Okay, you know we have to leave today. Naomi is terrified. We can't put her at risk any longer,” she said after a few minutes of watching him eat.

Jamal took a moment, chewed, and swallowed before speaking. Even at his lowest point, he still had his manners.

“I know. I don't want to get Ms. Naomi in trouble anyway.”

“Oh, honey.” She handed him the duffle bag as she fought back tears. She had never felt a pain like this. It felt like a hole was growing deep in her soul. “There are some clothes in there for you and some money. I also bought you a bus ticket to Florida. My cousin has a friend you can stay with for a while until this all dies down. But let me at least take you to the bus station.”

“No, Mama. I don't want you to do any more than you have already done.” He sucked the last of the meat off the chicken leg.

She let out a heavy sigh. She'd promised herself that she'd stay strong for her son, but it wasn't working. “Jamal, I don't feel right about this.”

“Would you feel right if they killed me instead?” he asked matter-of-factly.

How was she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to “do the right thing” if it meant her son would be harmed?

“Well, I gave you everything I could. There's enough money in that bag to get you through for several weeks.” Her voice quivered. “When you get to Florida, my cousin's friend will put you up for a while. But this is only temporary. We're going straight to work to try and get you an attorney.”

“Okay, Mom,” he said. He set the now-empty plate down and
threw his arms around her neck. “I love you, Mama. I'm so sorry I did this to you.”

She pulled back and wiped the tears that were trickling down his face. “Baby, I know it was an accident. A horrible tragic accident.”

“I feel so bad about that police officer. I never meant to hurt him. I just thought he was going to kill me and I grabbed his gun . . . ”

“I know.” She picked up his bag. He didn't have to tell her all the details. She knew her son. He wasn't a killer. “Come on, go change. The bus leaves in forty-five minutes.”

She waited while he went to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and changed. Ten minutes later, he was back in front of her, looking more like the old Jamal, except for the puffiness around his eyes. Gloria knew she would never have the old Jamal again.

“Well, come on, baby, let's go.”

Jamal grabbed the duffle bag and they made their way out through the side door and back out into the alley.

“You're sure you're not going to let me give you a ride?” she asked.

“No, Mama,” he said. “I'm just going to cut through the woods to get to the station. I'll lay low till the bus comes.” He was trembling, like the first day he rode the school bus and didn't know what lay ahead. “I'll be okay. I love you so much.” He hugged her tightly one last time. And just when he turned to walk away, they heard, “Police! Freeze!”

Gloria gasped as she threw her arms in the air like she was on a TV show. Jamal slowly put his arms up as well. He looked back at her and she could tell from the look in his eyes that he was about to run. “Don't, Jamal!” she cried. There was no doubt that if he took off, they would shoot her son in the back.

“Jamal Jones! Do not move!”

Gloria's eyes moved in the direction of that voice, the voice that had haunted her for the past week. Then she saw the eyes of Detective Martin. His gun was aimed directly at Jamal's head. His finger poised on the trigger as if it was itching to move. Before she knew what was happening, Gloria jumped in front of her son. “Noooo!” she screamed, holding up her hands to shield her son.

“Gloria!”

Gloria's mouth dropped in horror as her husband appeared on the side of Detective Martin. “Honey, don't!”

She had so many things to say to her husband, but right now, she could only focus on her son.

“Mrs. Jones, you'd better move,” Detective Martin hissed.

“No!” Gloria cried. “So you can kill him? No! You'll have to kill me, too.”

It was then that Elton stepped directly in front of Detective Martin, his back to the gun, his attention focused on Gloria. “Sweetheart, it's over.” He looked at Jamal, who was trembling behind his mother. “Son, do you want them to shoot your mother?” He motioned to what now looked like every police officer in Jasper. Each of them had a gun pointed in their direction. “They will gun us all down right here.”

Gloria could barely speak, but she managed to say, “Did you bring the police?”

Before Elton could answer, an officer came from the side and tackled Jamal to the ground.

“Jamal Jones, you're under arrest,” the cop said as he wrestled Jamal down, turned him over, grabbed his hands, and put them behind his back. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything
you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” He read Jamal his Miranda rights as he slapped on the handcuffs, then jerked him up from the ground.

“Stop it! Don't hurt him!” Gloria screamed as Elton tried to hold her.

“Ma'am, we got this.” It was the black officer, Detective King, who was in their house that first day. “Let us do our job.”

Gloria ignored him and spun to face her husband. “I can't believe you,” she said, her voice trembling as she broke free. “You called the police? On your own flesh and blood?”

“I did what I thought was right.” Elton's eyes were watering, but she didn't care. “We're not going to let our son run. We're not going to ruin his life or ours,” he said, his voice hoarse. “They agreed not to press charges against you if I led them here,” he added.

Gloria heaved, trying to catch her breath, as tears ran down her face.

“Mama!” Jamal called out as they tossed him in the back of a patrol car and slammed the door.

“I'm coming, baby!” she cried as an officer and Elton held her back. “You'd better not hurt him!” she screamed at the officers.

They ignored her as they got in the front seat and sped off.

Gloria sobbed as she turned to her husband. Her whole body was shaking. “I will never forgive you for this. Never,” she said before racing off to her car to follow her son to the police station.