Cartier Cartel (20 page)

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Nicholas Aponte asked for the last
time before going into the Brooklyn assistant district attorney's office to
negotiate for his client. He looked at the young, fearless girl and felt empathy
for her. He knew she felt she was strong enough to handle what was coming
her way. But the fact still remained that a man lost his life and someone had
to pay for the senseless murder.

"If my client has information about the Donald Williams murder, what's
on the table?" Aponte asked Michael Washington, the ADA for the Brooklyn
Borough.

"What information does she have?" the chocolate skinned attorney
asked.

"She has information that it was self-defense."

"We're not buying that," ADA Washington said as he sat back in his chair.
"A man was stabbed in the back and in anyone's mind that's murder."

"But he was trying to-" Cartier tried to say.

"Cartier, let me handle this," her lawyer, Nicholas Aponte, cut her off.

"If my client cops to this, we want man three. She's out in five years:"

"No way!" the ADA leaned forward. "The evidence is saying first degree
murder. If she pleads, then we won't seek the death penalty."

"Come on, Michael," Aponte began. "Let's be serious and stop the
dramatics. It's only us three in here. Regardless of what you say or how much
you try to scare my client, the facts are the facts. You and I both know no jury
will ever convict her on the flimsy evidence you have. Plus, you are talking
about one of the biggest drug dealers in Brooklyn. Hell, the right jury may
actually let her go and you know that. And remember, there are three other
girls who could be suspects as well as rival drug dealers and don't forget, your
murdered drug dealer almost beat another young lady to death, and for all
you know, one of her family members got revenge. So let's talk real, Michael,
and stop showcasing when the cameras are not rolling."

ADAMichael Washington didn't like the way the white attorney, Nicholas
Aponte, was talking to him in front of the young black girl. He wanted respect.
He didn't live in the world of sympathy for his people. He thought the way he
worked his way out of Queens to become a successful attorney, they could do
the same. Instead, many of his people turned to drugs and stealing.

After a couple of minutes of silence, Nicholas Aponte signaled to Cartier
to rise. "We'll take our chances with a jury of our peers. I'll petition the court
for a speedy trial, I'll have my connections at the papers run story after story
of the lives Donnie Williams ruined, and make sure they mention how a
beautiful young lady nicknamed Bam had a promising future and instead, she
will never be able to walk upright or speak clearly again. Plus, look into case
law, Aiello versus New York State. She'll walk, Michael. I guarantee you that."

Aponte and Cartier headed toward the door before ADA Washington
relented.

"The best we could do is second degree murder, Nick," Washington stated.
"Take it or leave it:"

"We'll leave it, Michael," Aponte replied. "Come on, Cartier."

As Aponte reached for the door, the ADA stopped him. "Hold on a
moment, let me speak to the district attorney."

artier was dressed nicely as she sat next to Nicholas Aponte. She
appreciated his efforts in getting her a deal. She wished she could have
done things his way. He had assured her he could get them all off, without
spending any time in jail or prison. But it meant Monya would have spent
two to six more months in jail and Cartier couldn't take that. She knew it
was only a matter of time before Monya confessed and then Monya probably
would have received a life sentence, or worst, a death sentence. It wasn't a
chance Cartier was willing to take.

As Cartier sat in the courtroom, she kept telling herself that she was
doing the right thing. That she was taking one for the team. She knew she
was fortunate; Nicholas Aponte had gotten her a sweet deal: five to fifteen
years and she would be out in three and a half with good behavior. The only
stipulation was she had to stand up in open court and give an allocution,
admit her guilt, and tell what actually happened in open court.

"I was standing outside alone on my stoop when Donnie pulled up to
the curb," Cartier began nervously explaining. She felt as if her insides were
about to explode. "He sat in his car for a long time, before jumping out and
running toward me. I was nervous so I ran. I ran into the alley and Donnie
gave chase. In the alley, he and I began fighting, and he was getting the best
of me. I tried to get away and tripped over a rock, and he fell on top of me. At
that moment, I played as if I was knocked unconscious. Donnie pulled out
his gun to shoot me, but something must have spooked him, because he spun
around to see if someone was coming. That's when I pulled a large kitchen
knife from out of my jacket that I carried for protection and stabbed him in
his back. I didn't want to kill him. I only wanted to get away. I wanted to live.
If I didn't stab him, he would have shot me."

As Cartier told her story, low sobbing was heard throughout the courtroom, coming from Pebbles, Donnie's mother, and other family
members. For some of his family members, it was a bittersweet moment.
They knew he was out there terrorizing the streets, and was possibly either
heading to jail or the grave. The grave won. Donnie's mother prayed for him
each night and hoped he would get out of the game before the game snatched
him out. She also felt sorry for Cartier. The young girl had ruined her life
all because her bully-of-a-son wanted the corner. She glanced over at the
young girl's mother and realized they both were losing their children, only
in different forms.

As the bailiff handcuffed Cartier and began to lead her into the back,
Cartier took one last look over her shoulder and mouthed the words to her
mother, "I love you."

"Keep your head up!" her mother replied.

"We gonna hold it down," Monya yelled, as others yelled and shouted,
before the judge called for order in the courtroom.

Cartier looked at Monya-the weak link. She knew she had done the
right thing. Monya had saved her life.

In her mind, this was day one. She just hoped she could do the next three
and a half years standing on her head.

artier knew the key to doing her time was staying focused on her
future. She enrolled in the GED program and scored 265 on her test,
which made her feel as though she'd accomplished something. She felt bad
for dropping out of high school now. When she received her diploma, with
her name written in large script letters, she felt an overwhelming sense of
responsibility. She made a promise to herself that when she got out, there
was no way she would allow her sister, Prada, to travel the same paths in life
she'd taken. She wanted to be a good role model to her younger sister.

By the next September, Cartier had enrolled in the prison's two-year
college associate's degree program. She was disappointed the state had
gotten rid of the bachelor's degree program due to budget cuts. She didn't
understand why people had a problem with inmates getting a free education
while incarcerated. As she rose out of bed, Cartier was eager to see her
mother, Prada, and Monya. The first Saturday of each month, which was
when Trina received her check, was the Timmonses visiting day. Trina would
leave money on Cartier's commissary account before she left and often
brought recent pictures of the family for Cartier to see. Trina had changed.
This whole experience had turned her into a better, more responsible parent
to both Cartier and Prada. At least twice per week, Trina would write Cartier,
and send her books and cards with inspirational messages enclosed.

Cartier's hair had grown out of her perm and it was all natural. In the
beginning, during her transition, she would let one of the girls straighten it
with a hot comb to keep it straight. Now that it was in its natural state, Cartier
would just wash and condition it, grease her scalp, and braid it into two neat
plaits. Her naturally tight, wavy hair looked healthy. In her spare time, when
she wasn't in her bunk or the library reading, she polished her fingernails and
toenails to keep in touch with her feminine side. When she looked down at
her nails, it was a message to not give up, that one day soon prison would be
something in her past and she would be resuming a normal life.

As much as it pained her, this was Cartier's favorite moment in prisonbeing led from the back, past the heavy cement doors, to the visiting room.
It always brought instant joy to her heart. And as always, the first thing she
would do when those doors to the visiting room opened was look for the
familiar faces that put a smile on her face.

"Cartier!" the small voice shouted. Cartier followed the voice and saw
Prada in her mother's arms. She walked toward the table with the same huge
smile on her face.

"Girl, I know you didn't just be-bop to this table?" Trina asked.

"Ma, whatcha talking about?" Cartier said, definitely not in the mood for
Trina's tripping.

"I hope you're not letting these girls turn you out in here," Trina
commented.

Cartier nodded her head toward Prada and said, "Ma, watch your
mouth."

"She don't know what we talking about," Trina assured Cartier. "Now
answer my question, you in here playing house with these other girls?"

Cartier's face turned red from embarrassment and insult. The last thing
on her mind was allowing some dyke chick to eat her pussy. The thought was
repulsive. People had it so mixed up about what goes on behind bars. There were
enough gay and lesbian chicks in here for you not to get jumped and raped.

"Ma, since when you know me to want to go the other way?" Cartier
asked.

"Not no child of mine ... but you need to keep your femininity in here.
Put a little switch in your hips when you walking. Don't let this place steal
that from you"

Cartier held up her hands to show her mother her painted fingers. "You
and I are on the same page."