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Ben held his head down for a while and let the silent tears run into his hands. He could hear the sound of footsteps moving towards him. But he didn’t bother to look up. He just figured it was some of his bunk mates coming back from their daily activities. He didn’t want to see any of them or deal with their bullshit. As he kept his head in his hands, he noticed that the sound seemed like it was a lot of footsteps, not just one set like he initially thought. He removed his hands from his face and went to lift his head up. Just as he did, BANG!

He felt a sudden explosion inside his head. He had been punched in the top of his head. Dazed, he went to put his hands up in defense, but he didn’t have time to react before another closed fisted blow landed in the center of his face. He was seeing stars now. He tried to blink away the pain and confusion, but it was to no avail. Ben tried to lift his arms up to cover himself at least. He couldn’t even do that. His arms were being held down on either side of him and so were his legs. He was rendered powerless. There were too many attackers for him to fight off. BANG! More closed fisted blows attacked his body. Ben felt a sharp pain permeate his stomach, then his chest. He was dragged onto the hard tile floor now and his head landed with a thud.

“Kick him.” Ben heard somebody whisper faintly. Then he felt a severe pain in his rib cage. His mouth popped open to scream, but nothing came out. He couldn’t scream, somebody had stuffed a balled up pair of socks into his mouth. Ben bit down into the fuzzy cotton of the socks.

He was trying to move, to fight. His efforts were futile against all of the hands holding him down. He opened his battered eyes, just in time to see the front of a construction Timberland boot coming straight for his head. BAM! The boot came crashing down on Ben’s skull. His head banged into the tile on the floor. He felt as if his brain would explode.

They punched him at will and kicked him with more force each time. He was beaten, kicked and stomped by his unknown assailants repeatedly. His face was bloody all over, and his body was on fire with pain.

“Deezo said you better stop talkin’ to the cops,” one of Ben’s assailants growled in his ear.

Ben laid limp and moaning in the fetal position. He couldn’t get up even if he wanted to. The posse of attackers finally let his arms and legs go, but Ben was too weak and injured to fight back.

“Yeah, you can’t snitch on Deezo and get away with it,” another of the assailants said.

“Deezo wants his shit or his money back. If you don’t come up with it, you a dead nigga,” another boy gritted, as he lifted his foot and stomped Ben in the head one more time. That was it. Ben’s already injured skull could not withstand another blow like that. His world suddenly went black.

“That nigga look dead,” one of the attackers whispered.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” they all agreed.

The group home residents Deezo had paid carried out their deed as instructed. They unlocked the room door and furtively scattered.

Ben laid unconscious and bloody on the floor for almost two hours before Ms. Tori had come to check on him. “Help! Somebody call 911!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

A Sucker 4 Candy Amaleka McCall

Chapter 6

Brooklyn, New York August 2010

Celeste sat next to her public defender in court, rocking her legs back and forth. She turned around nervously in her seat and looked out at all the people, including the media that had showed up for her trial. She had heard herself referred to as the drug murdering mother and she had read headlines about herself that read, Mother Feeds Baby Heroin To Shut Him Up.

She had learned to ignore the lies that the media put out. It had gotten so bad she had to be housed in the protective custody cell block at the Rose M. Singer Center on Riker’s Island. Primarily, because the women in the general population had threatened her life so many times. In female prisons or lock-ups, crimes against children were the worse. Many of the women in general population, who were away from their own children, despised and sometimes tried to kill inmates that were in jail for abusing or killing their kids.

Celeste kept looking out into the crowd, until the court officer finally stood up in front of the courtroom and announced the judge. She stood when she was instructed to stand. She bunched her toes up inside her shoes nervously. She didn’t know what to expect from the trial and she was starting to regret even taking her case to trial.

She had seen Drake in the courtroom, but his presence had not made her feel better. He had completely turned on her. He had bought into all of the media accusations against Celeste and he believed she had the drugs in the house that caused Keon to overdose. The judge’s voice broke up her thoughts.

“We will hear from the prosecutor first in this case. Counselor, you may begin,” the judge announced to the assistant district attorney on the case. Celeste sat upright in her seat when the prosecutor stood up to start his opening arguments.

“Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I am here today to prove to you that the defendant, who is sitting in this courtroom, who tried to call herself a mother,” the prosecutor began. “Let her two year old son get hold of her illicit heroin stash and overdose. That poor baby was probably so hungry he thought his mother’s drugs were food. I will take you on a journey into the defendant’s life and show you the conditions this poor baby had to live under. I will also show you evidence found in the home that proves the defendant had heroin in her possession that was so pure, it could have killed all twelve of you with just a very small amount,” the prosecutor announced loudly.

The prosecutor hesitated long enough for the jury to take in his comments, and then he walked over and picked up a plastic sealed evidence bag. He held it up, then continued his oration. “I will show you State’s exhibit number one A, the baggie that the defendant kept her pure, uncut heroin in, which she carelessly tried to hide in her teenage son’s mail delivery bag while her baby lay dying in the hospital. His little body convulsing from ingesting so much drugs.”

Celeste’s eyes popped open when she saw the bag and when the prosecutor said where it came from. She started rocking her legs back and forth even faster now. She leaned into her public defender. She started to tell him that she had found those bags in Ben’s room and that the bags must have belonged to her son. Now it all made sense to Celeste. Ben had been bringing drugs into her home.

Celeste’s attorney turned to listen to what she had to say. But she sat back in her seat and fell silent. She let the prosecutor continue to berate her and portray her as the worst mother on the planet. She listened to the prosecutor drag her sex life into court. He talked about all of the men that had come forward to give testimony. Supposedly, they’d slept with her over the years while her son was sometimes in the same room with them. Celeste listened to the prosecutor announced she had had Ben when she was just fifteen years old and that his father had never been involved in his life. The prosecutor continued to tell the jury that Celeste had to sell heroin to take care of her kids.

She wanted to just disappear. She was being dragged through the mud in front of a public audience. She hung her head and listened as her entire life being recounted in a twisted way. It was very clear to her now that the drug baggie definitely belonged to Ben.

As she sat there, Celeste began blaming herself for everything. She realized she had been so caught up in men and so money hungry that she had totally lost sight of Ben and how much money he was bringing into the house. Of course it all made sense to Celeste. And the truth was hitting her hard. She had purposely turned a blind eye to what her son was doing, because she has enjoyed the money he was giving her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about how she had caused Ben to lose his innocence to the streets.

The prosecutor finished his remarks. Celeste couldn’t be sure, but she thought he smiled at her after his opening remarks. It was time for the defense to try to clean up the horrible picture that had been painted of Celeste. Her lawyer was gathering his papers and about to stand up. Celeste grabbed her lawyer’s arm and kept him from getting up. The young public defender looked at Celeste with furrowed eyebrows as if she was crazy. He was confused and a little annoyed at her. He sat back down.

The young lawyer was frazzled. He was stammering and confused. “Um . . . your honor, I need a minute with my client,” he stated, his words coming out awkward and choppy.

The judge rolled her eyes in disgust. However, she knew the young attorney was fresh out of law school and not really experienced. She granted him five minutes to speak with Celeste.

“I just want to plead guilty,” Celeste told the lawyer forcefully. He looked perplexed. “I’m guilty, the drugs were mine,” she lied. “I’m not a good mother. I let my son get to the drugs and I failed my other son, too.” Celeste had tears welling up in her eyes. She had a lump in her throat.

“I thought you said you had no idea where the drugs came from?” her lawyer asked in a gruff tone.

“Look, I wanna fuckin’ plead guilty I said! What the fuck don’t you understand! Get it through your head, I’m guilty!” Celeste whispered excitedly and harshly.

The young attorney finally accepted what she was saying, although he thought she was crazy. Celeste watched him stand up. The attorney’s hands were shaking as he nervously fumbled with his papers.

She was waiting for him to make the announcement. She swiped at the tears that were running down her face now. She had made up her mind. She wasn’t going to sacrifice her other child to save herself. Celeste had resolved that she wouldn’t tell anyone that Ben had been selling drugs and bringing it in the house. She felt she had failed and this was her redemption. She felt she was really the guilty party for not paying better attention to her kids, all over a man and her selfish greed.

“Your honor my client has informed me that she would like to waive this trial and plead guilty in this case,” the young attorney announced, his schoolboy voice wavering. “I have not had an opportunity to discuss this with the prosecution and to allow them to put together a plea deal, your honor. Therefore, I am asking for a continuance at a later date.”

The prosecutor stood up in shock. The judge opened her eyes wide with shock as well. The courtroom erupted in murmurs and gasps of ohhs and ahhhs. Some of the media reporters ran out of the courtroom so they could try to be the first to break the news on TV. The judge banged her gavel and screamed, “Order! Order in this court!”

Ms. Tori looked down at Ben as she stood next to his hospital bed. She smiled. “You are being so brave Ben. I’m so glad you have gotten up the courage,” she soothed.

She looked over at the other side of Ben’s bed and nodded at the detective standing there. It was one of the detectives that had arrested Celeste. The detective Ben had dubbed the good cop.

“Yeah, Ben, it takes a real man to own up to his crimes,” the detective agreed.

Ben just nodded. He wasn’t able to speak because his left jaw being wired shut. He had almost lost part of the bone in his jaw due to his injuries from the beating. He had been in the hospital almost two months for the amount of injuries he had sustained during the incident. Although his jaw was wired shut, his broken arms had healed enough that he could write on a pad to communicate with Ms. Tori and the detective.

“So you’re saying he wants to confess and tell us what happened to his brother?” the detective asked Ms. Tori, to confirm why he was there. The detective was looking at Ben as he asked Ms. Tori the question. Ms. Tori had called the detective and asked him to come to the center because Benjamin Early wanted to confess to inadvertently killing his baby brother, Keon.

“Ask him,” Ms. Tori replied.

In big letters, Ben scribbled YES onto the pad that sat on the small rolling hospital tray in front of him.

“Why do you wanna confess now? You think it’s gonna get your mother out of jail and since you’re a juvenile you’ll get a short two year sentence and go free?” the detective asked suspiciously. He had to be sure. People put kids up to confessing to serious crimes all the time. It was a well known fact that juveniles got shorter sentences in most cases.

Ben shook his head no. He made his face into a frown to show his displeasure with the detective’s conclusion. He started writing fiercely on his pad again. I want to confess because the drugs that my brother got into his system were mine. I was selling drugs and I brought them into the house. I meant to hide them, but I was careless that one time. My mother always said not to bring drugs in the house or to sell them. She doesn’t deserve to sit in jail.

“In order for us to believe that you . . . a sixteen year old kid had that high a grade of heroin, you will have to tell us who your supplier is and where you got the drugs from,” the detective informed Ben. “I’m sure you don’t know any Colombian cartel members, so you had to get it from somewhere. We will have to investigate before we even consider withdrawing the charges against your mother.”

Ben closed his eyes in defeat. He had already anticipated the detective would tell him he had to give up Deezo in order to free his mother. He had already made it up in his mind that it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. I will tell you everything you need to know for my mother to go free, Ben scribbled on the paper. The detective nodded and pulled up a seat. He was all ears. In this case, all eyes.

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“Early! Let’s go,” the court officer called out to Celeste. She was in a courthouse cell waiting to go into court for her plea hearing. She stood up with confidence. She had already made it up in her mind that she would not feel ashamed of herself anymore. She was ready to throw herself into the fire to save Ben, her only living son.