Politics. Escorts. Blackmail. (21 page)

Saturday—March 31, 2012

M
oney’s life was more entangled than ever before. Midori’s death did something to her. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. It made her nervous. Shaky.

She sat under the gazebo in her backyard again, in deep thought, when her mother called.

“Money.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“You okay?”

Money was honest. “No. How are you?”

“Sorry. Listen, Money. Your dad and I are going away. We’re leaving Atlanta.”

“Why? Where are you going?”

“We’re not sure.”

Money thought her ears were deceiving her. “How are you not sure? What is going on with you two?”

“That’s all I can tell you.”

“Mom, that makes no sense. What do you mean you can’t tell me?”

“I just can’t.”

“Dad has you doing this,” Money said. “Are you afraid of what could happen? Is that it?”

“I’m going to have to go now.”

She begged, “Mom, you can’t just leave like this. You can’t. You’re not even going to be here in case there’s a trial? How will I reach you? We’re family. I need you, Mom. Please. I’m in hell.”

“So are we. I’ll always love you. Good-bye.”

“No!” Money screamed, but her mother had already hung up the phone. Money pressed Redial as fast as she could, but the call went straight to voice mail. She then dialed her father’s number. It was disconnected.

Money spoke aloud as she again tried to call her mother back. “What in the hell are they doing? Shit. That man has my mother acting just as crazy as he is. How could she not know where they were going?”

In Money’s head, it was all too confusing. She knew something bad was happening. The tides felt as if they were turning against her for good.

And in that moment, her cell rang again. She answered in a split second.

Her attorney spoke slowly. “Money, are you sitting down? Are you alone?”

“Yes. What?” She held her breath.

“Well, three things. One, the prosecutors have a recording of you speaking to your sister about Senator Darrell Ellington paying Lip Service for sex. A portion of the recording has been erased, but they claim to have enough of you talking to your sister. They said they got it from Darrell Ellington’s stepson. Do you know anything about this?”

Her exhale was loud. She cursed Virgil in her head, knowing she was correct to not trust him. Knowing if he’d turn in his own stepfather, he’d turn her in, too. “No. But if they do, is that even admissible? How do they know for sure it’s me and Midori?”

“They’ll submit the recording to voice analysis experts who will determine if it’s accurate. If it is authenticated, it can be allowed as evidence.”

“Okay. What else?”

“Second, they have been able to track down a payment made to your sister the night she met her killer in that hotel room. The credit to her PayPal account was from Oemor Productions.
Oemor
is
Romeo
spelled backwards. That is the business account name of the pimp we talked about, Romeo Butler Martinez.”

Money closed her eyes to steady the vision in her head. She fought hard to focus in order to keep from exploding.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice was now weak. “Go on.”

“And lastly, they have a pink book. It is listed here as having client ID numbers and information about their sexual preferences. It has dates up to a certain point as well as amounts. And it says they received it from your mother. That she mailed it to the detective who’s handling the case. Also, six figures was paid from Oemor Productions to an offshore account in your father’s name, Arthur Watts.”

Money still said nothing. Her blood boiled.

“Are you there?”

With a monotone voice, she stared into nowhere. “So what next?”

“I’m sorry, Money. You need to know that you are going to be arrested. Chances are they will come there and attempt to make the arrest. When this happens, don’t say anything. I’m on my way. If they get there before I do, just make sure that I’m your one phone call. Do you understand?”

“Uh-huh. I have to go.”

She hung up before he did. Her soul felt sold. The road taken in her life was down-spiraling fast, as if she’d jumped out of a plane without a parachute. The anger in her churning gut was deep enough to cause injury. Not to herself, yet, but to someone. There was nothing left to do but take care of the one who found a way to reach out to her family and tear them apart at the seams.

Prison time felt certain. There was nothing left to do but face doom and visit revenge.

She dialed.

He answered. “Hello, Money.”

“Jamie, I’m about to be arrested. Everything has come to a head. I want Romeo killed within twenty-four hours. I have a quarter-million dollars here in cash. It’s inside of the grandfather clock in my living room. I will leave the door unlocked. Come by later and get it. If you don’t hear from me by midnight that means they’ve arrested me, so make it after then. And, there’s twice that much in a safe waiting for you once I hear it was done. Then and only then will I find a way to get you the location and combination. You’re going to have to trust me about the money in the safe, just like I have to trust that you won’t come in here, take the money, and run. Remember—I want Romeo killed within twenty-four hours.”

Click.

Thirty minutes later, after she quickly prepared herself for the inevitable, the doorbell sounded.

She opened the door holding only her driver’s license and cell phone, wearing a burgundy sweatsuit and flats, hair in a ponytail. No makeup.

Two male officers stood before her. One spoke. “Money Watts?”

“Yes.” She stepped outside and closed the door.

“Ms. Watts, we have a warrant for your arrest.”

“Yes.”

“You are under arrest on charges of pandering and prostitution. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by a court of law. Do you understand these rights?”

“Yes.”

The other officer handcuffed her and she went quietly with them down her winding walkway.

Her neighbor across the street stood on her porch and watched. Money walked on, expressionless.

Just as one of the officers opened the door to the backseat of the police car, Money leaned over and vomited along the curb.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

She stood and looked as though it was nothing.

“Yes,” she told him simply. “I’m pregnant.”

She got in the car and was taken to jail.

Wednesday—November 7, 2012

W
e the jury of the above-entitled action, find the defendant, Money Watts, guilty of murder in the first degree as charged in count one of the indictment.” Those were the words of the female bailiff who had confirmed the guilty verdict with each of the jurors one week earlier in Manhattan Federal Court, and today was the day of the sentencing. The jury of nine men and three women had unanimously spoken, and after the presentencing reports were reviewed by the judge, it was time for Money to learn the terms of her fate.

She had been held without bail for almost eight months since the officers picked her up from her home that day, taking her in based on new evidence of pandering and prostitution. But within days after the murder was committed, those charges were dropped. In addition, the misdemeanors that would have been filed against Leilani and Kemba as sex workers, and even Money’s mother, Beverly Watts, for answering phones and making appointments, were never filed. And since then, Money still claimed to not have arranged for sex. She consistently denied any involvement in the murder, especially after Jamie Bitters was caught and testified against her at the trial. Her claims remained that Jamie Bitters acted alone after Romeo Butler Martinez refused to pay him for information Jamie provided on Money’s company. And that Jamie broke into her house and stole her cash.

Kemba Price, a witness for the prosecution, was a regular fixture in the courtroom each day. When called to the stand as an eyewitness to the murder, he testified he had been sitting in the car with Romeo, who was distraught over investigations into his own activities, when a hooded man wearing sunglasses walked up to the car, pulled out a gun, and fired two shots, killing Romeo instantly. The man ran, but surveillance cameras captured images of him getting into a black Lexus in a nearby alley and speeding off. Kemba immediately identified the car of Jamie Bitters, Money’s lover, from the surveillance video. The jury bought the prosecution’s claims that Romeo set up Midori to be killed to get back at Money, and that Money was also upset about Romeo buying the pink book from her parents. The jury agreed that Money had enough motivation to have Romeo murdered.

Kemba sat in the front row of the courtroom with both Romeo’s elderly father and teenage daughter, who cried heavily. During her victim impact statement she told the court that she loved her father from a distance. Through heavy sobs, she said he was a good man who didn’t deserve to die. She asked the court for a sentence of life without the possibility of parole. Kemba hugged her and cried often, hiding his face as though it would hide his feelings.

Jamie had pleaded guilty to first-degree murder, weapons charges, and various drug charges. Because of his priors, he was sentenced to life but without possibility of parole because he testified against Money. He had made the hit like she told him to, but never got the call about where to find the half million in cash. He had been on the run after Kemba identified him, but was extradited after his arrest in an undercover drug buy, when he paid two hundred thousand in cash for four hundred pounds of marijuana in California.

The older black judge told Money in the packed courtroom as he announced her sentencing, “This was a contract killing. It was a murder-for-hire for a quarter million dollars with the promise of more money. This was premeditated. Carefully thought out. Though you don’t have a prior record, this was a cold-blooded hit for revenge. You will dodge the death penalty, but you are hereby sentenced to life in prison, eligible for parole in twenty-five years. You may file an appeal within thirty days. Ms. Watts, if you had not ordered the hit, you might have only gotten six months in jail and three years’ probation if the other charges on pandering had been tried in court,
if
you had even been found guilty. Evidence is key, but because you took the life of another, you will be in prison for at least twenty-five years. You made the decision. Now you must live with it.”

Money sobbed and shook her head in disbelief, looking back to not see one person in the courtroom to support her. Devastated about losing their case, her attorney hugged her, and Money was taken away to start serving her sentence for her crime.

Coincidentally, this was the day after the new president-elect of the United States was decided by the people. There would indeed be a Republican president, at least through 2016. Kalin Graves had been elected by a wide margin.

It was historical in that it was the first time in history that a white president and a black First Lady would occupy the White House.

Virgil sat in the back of the courtroom that day, even though he’d turned in the audio file to the prosecutors. Money never looked at him. His home and his heart were broken. He did buy the waterfront condo overlooking the East River. He visited Midori’s gravesite every weekend, and even joined the cause to tighten laws against prostitution. He’d sold his hacker program idea for millions and was promoted to vice president of engineering at Google. He was a wealthy man who vowed to share his life and his body with someone someday, even though in his heart Midori earned the title of his first love.

Sugar momma Beryl moved her lover Ryan in. She and Ursula hadn’t spoken since the night Beryl answered Kemba’s cell phone.

Turned out Ursula really did see Beryl in the taxi with Kemba that day. She went after him on purpose, having always felt inferior to her sister. She moved in with Virgil until her divorce was final. She’d then filed a petition to get half of Darrell’s fortune.

Darrell Ellington, the former senator and now reformed sex addict, ended up staying in the home he’d shared with his wife and stepson, and was dating a new, young stripper girlfriend whom he’d met while in Indianapolis for the Super Bowl. It was discovered that he did pay four different escorts over a three-year period. But there was not enough evidence to prove that he actually paid for sex, or that he laundered money, even though a recording had been provided by his very own stepson.

Just another instance of failure to prosecute the rich and powerful. A double standard in the criminal justice system when it came to men and prostitution. Hypocrisy at its height. The arrogance of power. It had gone on for ages, and would continue.

Money was set to do her time, and Lip Service was no more.

Tuesday—December 11, 2012