Paper Chasers (23 page)

Randy didn't look the least bit worried or embarrassed. As he walked and prepared to enter into one of the patrol cars, he donned a serious B-boy/gangster limp. He was walking as though he was the toughest thing on the earth since nails. He bopped and bopped, and at the same time he chewed on a piece of green bubble gum. He looked as if he were a cow chewing its curd.

Just before he sat down in the patrol car, he spit at a news reporter and tried to kick a photographer. It was at that point that he was pushed head first into the backseat of the patrol car where he sat for about five minutes. As he sat, the media swarmed in on the car, similar to the way fans swarm a limo when Michael Jackson is inside. The herd of reporters all wanted to get some type of comment from, or picture of Mr. Randy Allen.

Randy's mom, his brothers, and sisters all looked on in disbelief. His mom was crying and screaming.

“He didn't do it, he didn't do any
ting
!” she wailed in a Caribbean accent. “Let my baby go. Where are you taking him?”

Neighbors watched in astonishment. Some were whispering to each other. This, by far, was one of, if not the most dramatic episode that 234th Street had ever seen.

Oh no!
I thought to myself.
They caught him. They actually caught him!
I couldn't believe it. I yelled out Randy's name as loudly as I could.

“Randy! Randy!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Yo, Randy!”

Finally I managed to get his attention. He peered out of the car window. With my right hand I made the letter Y extending my thumb to my ear and my pinkie to the front of my mouth. I was trying to convey to Randy that I wanted him to call me.

“Call me!” I yelled. “Call the crib! Call the crib!”

Randy nodded his head up and down, then he was whisked away, along with a caravan of police cars that served as escorts. He was probably on his way to the precinct, and then he would surely end up at central booking.

The block started to clear up a bit. The helicopters were gone before I could blink. Bystanders and the rest of the police started to disperse. I turned around and went back into my house where I found my sister in tears.

“What did he do, Mark? Why did they need all of those cops to arrest him?”

“I don't know what he did, Paula. But whateva it is, he probably didn't do it. Yo, Paula, Randy is the man, though! Did you see how he bopped in front of those TV cameras? He was proud as hell! He wasn't like all of those other fake thugs that get arrested and then try to hide their faces from the news cameras. Nah, none of that! Randy walked proud with those handcuffs on. He was full of ballsiness. And he was definitely representing Fourth Crew to the fullest! Did you see that cat?”

“Mark, what are you talking about?” my sister asked in disbelief. “And why are you so proud? What is wrong with you? Randy is in trouble! Big trouble! They don't come with all of those cops for nothing. And that makes you happy? You lost me somewhere.”

I realized that Paula just didn't get it.

“Do you still wanna go shopping?” I asked. “Yes or no?”

“No!” she snapped.

“A'ight, cool, 'cause I gots to be out. I'll be by here to see you before you go back to school. When do you have to go back again? About two to three weeks or something like that, right?”

“Yes, Mark,” my sister answered, sounding very defeated.

“OK, I'ma see you then. Bye. Paula, stop crying. Randy's gonna be a'ight. This ain't nothing but a G thang. Do I look worried or upset? Did Randy look upset? No. So stop crying. What are you crying for?”

I kissed my sister good-bye and I darted out of the house. I quickly jumped into my car and sped over to our apartment.

When I arrived at the apartment, I burst in yelling.

“Yo, yo, yo! Randy just got pinched!”

“What?” Dwight asked.

“Randy just got bagged! He got arrested! Five-O came to his crib and snatched him up. Yo, it was ill! I mean a whole swarm of pohleece flooded the block and were outside his joint. They were rolling about four hundred deep. Cops were in helicopters, on rooftops, they had the K-9 units, and all that. It looked like every cop in the city was on 234th Street.

“But for what? What did he do?” Dwight asked.

“I don't know,” I said while focusing my eyes on Latiefe. “I don't know, yo. But, yo, every TV station and their mother was out there, so it has to be on TV.”

Dwight quickly instructed Wiggie to move from in front of the TV and to turn it on. No sooner had Wiggie completed his task than we saw Randy's body bopping across the TV screen. With the volume turned up on the TV, words from the anchor woman's mouth echoed throughout the room.

“Today police ended a week long manhunt for a suspect in one of the city's most gripping, grueling, and devastating crime's ever. With the arrest of a suspect allegedly believed to be the gunman who gunned down and murdered two New York City detectives in cold blood last week on a Queens' street. Police arrested twenty-year-old Randolph Allen this afternoon at his home in Queens. Police were led to the suspect by an anonymous tip which was supplied to them apparently by an eyewitness to the horrific shooting. The witness's name is being withheld at this time.

“Police apparently surprised Mr. Allen, who hampered their efforts in arresting him by holding his younger brother hostage for some time in the basement of his family's two-story home.

“Police also are believed to have recovered the weapon which was used to slay the two detectives. A Calico automatic gun is believed to be the murder weapon. Two other guns were recovered in the basement, along with a large amount of cash. The amount of cash is not yet known at this point in time. Neighbors that we interviewed from the quiet, middle-class block in Laurelton were shocked by the arrest. The alleged suspect was said to be an ideal young man, one with promise and no previous felony arrest record.

“So again, to recap the latest development in a story that has gripped this city over the last week, police have arrested the alleged gunman believed to be the killer of two detectives that were gunned down last week in Queens. Police are said to still be searching for at least one more suspect in the case. Mr. Allen is being held in custody and he is being questioned by police as we speak. And at this time there is no word on whether bail will be set. We'll have more details on this tonight at eleven.”

“Yo, turn that garbage off!” I ordered as everyone else sat there in disbelief.

“Yo, how did they bag Randy for that?” Erik yelled. “I know that he didn't do it because he would have told us about something that ill.”

“Word, he would've at least told one of us,” Wiggie agreed. “Man, this is all jacked up! Of all people, why did they arrest Randy for this, yo? I'm really trippin' off this, because if they can arrest Randy for this, that means that they can arrest anybody that they want to for whatever they want to.”

Dwight tried to put a grasp on all of the shock.

“A'ight y'all, we just have to find out the truth about what happened so that we can see how to figure out this whole thing. We gotta speak to Randy's moms and see if they give him bail or not. And if they do, no matter how much it is, we're gonna have to do whatever we have to do to come up with the bail money.”

Erik pessimistically added that although it was Randy's first major offense, he was skeptical about anyone getting bail after murdering two cops in cold blood.

While the crew mulled things over, I quietly pulled Latiefe to the side.

“I think we're next,” I nervously whispered. “We're getting locked up too.”

“No, we're not,” Latiefe confidently whispered back.

“Why not?” I asked anxiously. “Are you thinking like I'm thinking, as far as skipping town?”

“Nah, we don't have to do that. The cops won't catch us. Trust me.”

“Tee, how do you know that!? That's exactly what I told Randy, and look at him. He got knocked.” Latiefe began to giggle softly.

“What the hell is so funny?” I whispered angrily.

“Nothing,” Latiefe replied, still giggling. “It's just that I know how Randy got caught, and that's why I know we can't get bagged.”

While making sure that I didn't raise my voice above a loud whisper, I eagerly questioned Tee.

“What? I'm sayin'! Tee, how did he get bagged? Speak to me!”

Latiefe's giggles had just about turned to laughter as he tried to calm down and explain.

“OK, OK. Holz, calm down, I'll tell you . . .” After another quick chuckle, Latiefe paused, then continued. “Now, Holz, you know how my temper is, right? I mean you know how quick I am to get upset? Now last week when Randy played me out at the Red Zone I got pissed off . . .”

“No! Latiefe, wait! Wait a minute,” I said in a very serious tone as I started to realize where this was going. “Don't tell me that you ratted on your boy!!!”

“Yeah, Holz, I told . . . but . . . but I didn't mean for him to actually get caught.”

“Man, what do you mean you didn't mean for him to get caught? You go and sing like a canary-rat-stool-pigeon and you didn't expect for him to get caught!? Latiefe, that's your boy! Randy was down with all of us from day one. Latiefe, we've all known each since we were three-years-old. Three-years-old, man! Latiefe what the . . . how could you rat Randy out like that?”

I was really stunned. I felt like unleashing tears of anger and frustration.

“Holz, I'm sorry man,” Latiefe repented. “I was just upset and you know how I get. Man, after I left the club that night, I drove around for a while trying to calm down, but I couldn't. Randy shouldn't have played me out like that. We were both wrong.”

“Latiefe, so what if he played you! Why did you short him his cut of the money? We're all in this drug thing together. You don't jerk nobody in the crew out of their money! See, I knew that this drug thing was gonna do us up somehow. I knew it! I knew it! I knew it! Latiefe, man, I don't know . . . So what did you do? You just marched into the police station and told the cops that Randy did the killings? What's the deal? What's up?” Latiefe bowed his head.

“Nah, see, that night after I left the club I saw this sign. Well actually it was on a billboard or something. I don't know, but anyway, the sign stated that the police would pay ten thousand dollars for information leading to the arrest and conviction of anyone killing a New York City cop. Holz, I had to call! I was so ticked off and vexed that night, and after I made that call I felt more relieved and more at ease. I felt like I was on top!”

“Latiefe, why didn't you just punch a wall? Or kick somebody? Or fight somebody? I mean you could have done anything like that. But, Latiefe, the bottom line is that you don't rat on your boy like that! Matter of fact, you don't rat on anybody! That's the code of the streets, and you know that! Ah man! Latiefe, you know that Randy ain't gonna see light for maybe fifty years? Two dead cops! Man, he might get double life. If they had the death penalty in New York, he would probably be headed straight for death row. And for ten thousand dollars! Latiefe, you didn't want the money, did you? No my fault, twenty thousand dollars. I forgot, it was two cops, so the hero's reward is doubled. Twenty Gs—do you know how quick we could've made that? Latiefe, tell me what makes you think that they're even gonna give you the twenty Gs anyway? Remember one thing—not only do they have to arrest Randy, which they already did, but they also have to convict him before you would ever get your money. And that could be like six months to maybe even a year from now. In that time, who knows, Randy could be dead. Or he could beat the charges. Slim chance on that happening, but if he does beat the rap, you won't even get the twenty Gs.”

“Holz, you know what? I could care less about the ten thousand or twenty thousand dollars or whateva it is. All I'm sayin' is Randy embarrassed me in front of females, and for what? If we use your same logic, then that means that Randy embarrassed me for only five thousand dollars! He didn't care, so why should I care!?”

“Latiefe, you still don't get it, do you? You just don't get it! Yo, I ain't even gonna try to figure you out no more. What's done is done! And to be honest, I hate you for this! I mean, you still my man and all, but ratting on your boy, singing like a stool pigeon, dropping dime, I don't know! Latiefe, all I'm sayin' is you better watch out 'cause I know that those police tip hotlines don't make you give your name. They give you an ID number and all that protect the witness milarky. But you can bet on one thing, and that's that Randy is gonna talk. He ain't gonna do time in the clink by himself. He's in the joint right now! And you better believe that when they start questioning him and threatening him and putting all kinds of pressure on him, he's gonna drop dime, especially if they work out some kinda plea bargain with the district attorney. You and I will be looking at more time than he is.”

Although Latiefe knew what I was saying made a lot of sense, he tried to downplay it.

“Randy won't drop dime. You know and I know that he won't. We're still Fourth Crew for life! Besides, Randy will never even know who told on him. Even though we had that little squirmish, if I personally told Randy that I ratted him out, he wouldn't believe it. He'd just believe that it was a very smart police department that nabbed him. Plus, after today you probably won't see me anymore 'cause I'm outta here. I can't stick around. I mean, it's time for a change.” After a pause in his speech, Latiefe laughed. “As a matter of fact, you know what? You're right. Randy isn't as stupid as he looks, he just might rat us out. But, yo, like I said, I'm outta here. It's time to start all over.” Latiefe then began laughing like this was all a game, or like it was all just one big joke.