The Dirty South (28 page)

Running as hard as I could, I got back to my ride. There wasn't a lot of space to get out of my parking position and as I reversed I hit something. Had to get away. I dropped the gun on the floor of the passenger side. My heart was still racing and the temptation to drive fast was overwhelming but I just about managed to keep control. I headed to Clapham. Tupac's ‘Tradin War Stories' was playing. Got on the A3 and passed through Wandsworth and then Putney. Felt a bit calmer. Headed to Richmond and parked my ride on a street there. The gun was back in the plastic bag and in my pocket. I climbed out of my ride and I noticed I had broken the passenger side rear brake light. I walked towards the river as the insides of my stomach felt like Fatboy Slim was mixing it.

There was a pub located on the river bank and I headed for that. People were enjoying the warm evening and the sight of three black brothers laughing and drinking with white people made me feel like I didn't stick out too much. There was a path that ran parallel to the river and I walked along that. About a hundred yards away from the pub I hurled the gun into the Thames. I walked on another fifty yards or so, sat down on a grass verge and built a big-head. As I torched it, I realised I had taken away everything Courtney Thompson had. Every potential wok, every child he might father, every pleasure, every Sunday dinner, every joke he might crack, every smile, every
laugh and any hot tune he might nod his head to… I took that all away from him. I drove home with guilt seeping into my bones… Tupac was chanting about how Shorty wants to be a thug.

Akeisha would be safe now. Courtney's bredrens wouldn't go after her now that their leader is duppied.

The next few days I hardly ventured out of my bedroom. I complained of headaches and dizziness but the truth was I didn't want anyone to see the guilt in my eyes. Mum was still being nice to me and Paps still wanted to know if I could identify Noel's killers. But it was Davinia who noticed my fucked-up mind.

‘Dennis, I think you should go and see a counsellor,' she said to me one evening as she brought my dinner to me. ‘You're on the verge of a breakdown.'

‘I'm alright, sis,' I lied. ‘It's just these headaches.'

Courtney Thompson's murder was reported in the local press but there was no sign of it in the national newspapers or television. My mind began to play tricks on me and I started to imagine that every caller to the house was a Fed or that my murder of Thompson would be staged on
Crimewatch
. I had to get out of this bedroom. But what if Courtney's crew suspected me of merking him? They might be looking for me, they might start tracking me. I need to defend my black ass. Need to chat to Gloria again. One last favour. I called her when no-one was at home.

‘It's me, Dennis.'

‘It certainly is! I never thought you'd do it. How are you?'

‘Not good.'

‘Did you get rid of it?'

‘Of course.'

‘Where?'

‘The Thames.'

‘Good!'

‘I need another, Gloria.'

‘Why?'

‘Self preservation. Shall I say that some fucked-off brothers might be looking for me. If that does happen I want to defend myself.'

‘I see your point. Give me four days.'

‘OK.'

‘Same rules as before.'

‘OK.'

‘You'll have to pay for it this time.'

‘No worries.'

Gloria killed the call. That evening I told Mum that I wanna get back to some kinda normality and that I would return to work in five days time after I finished my latest set of tablets. She kissed me on the forehead and gave me a hug.

Five days later I was returning to work. Mum had made me a packed lunch of corned beef sandwiches, crisps and two apples. My sandwich box was sitting on my passenger seat and as I drove to Everton's garage, the rush of wind that came through my driver-side window felt good. I then stopped at a traffic light and I briefly glanced in my rear-view mirror. Someone was flashing me. It was the Feds. The lights had turned to green but I didn't see because I closed my eyes momentarily in dread. My heart dropped. I pulled over just a little way beyond the traffic lights and the Fed car parked immediately behind me. A male Fed got out of the car and approached me. For a short second I considered driving off at high speed but I didn't give it serious thought.

‘Your brake light is not working, sir,' the Fed said. ‘Are you aware of that, sir?'

‘No, officer.'

‘Would you mind stepping out of the car, sir? Just a routine search.'

I climbed out of my ride and I asked the officer if it was alright if I called my boss, Everton, at work, for I didn't think I'd be coming in today. The feeling I had at that point was an empty one, a weird one. As if this
was
how it was meant to be. I had to
pay
. The officer looked at me strangely and then he was joined by the other officer and they started to search my ride. The brand new gun that I bought from Gloria only two days ago was in the car glove compartment, bullets and all. If they had asked me to confess to the Courtney Thompson murder I would've done. But they didn't.

S
o here I am in Pentonville prison. They gave me five years bird but I got some of that chopped off for good behaviour. It hasn't been too bad apart from the start of my sentence. 'Cos I come from the Dirty South, I had east, west and north London brothers trying it on with me. I had a few fights, got mashed a couple of times, pounded head a couple of times and I won some respect. Looking back on my early bird I felt kinda lucky that I didn't get burst… You might be in prison but there's still a chance of being shanked and burst by a hot-headed brother.

There was a bit of beef between rastas, Christians and black Muslims but nowhere near as bad as what we all heard was happening in Belmarsh prison. I only lost privileges once when I pounded the fuck out of this new cell-mate I had. He refused to clean up his shit when he pissed all over the toilet seat and left his scum in the sink… I got two weeks solitary. I didn't really bitch about my punishment but I always bitched about the fuck all chances I had to visit the prison library… Sometimes the waiting time could be weeks before you had the chance to read another book. In my letters to Akeisha and Paps I asked them to send me certain books but most of what they sent never reached me.

They're not interested in making people better inside here. Screws have this power over you and they're happy to express that shit. It ain't no surprise that so many guys in here reoffend when they get released and I reckon they return to crime 'cos they're made to feel like dumb pussies inside prison. Simple as. To survive in the outside world you gotta be strong and be rooted and ignore the fucked-up behaviour of the screws. I was lucky 'cos I never forgot what my parents had drilled into me from an early age. I
knew
I had something worthwhile to give to society. I had shamed my parents enough by being inside so I had to do something.

Since doing bird I've passed my A-Level history and English literature. Mum and Paps were proper proud about that and when Davinia last came to visit I told her I was now the brains of the family. Davinia is visiting me today and there is only three weeks of my sentence to serve. I write to Akeisha once a week and although she begged with me to send her a visiting letter, I refused. It was bad enough trying to do my bird here but if I saw her in the flesh and then I was escorted back to the cells, it would do my fucking head in. She understood in the end. It took me four months to agree to see Mum and I made Paps promise that he'd never tell Granny about my prison term. I was
not at home
whenever Granny made a long-distance call from Jamaica.

In those first months of my sentence I had to admit I felt serious guilt about merking Courtney Thompson. I thought about his younger two sisters and brother and I couldn't help but remember the times when Courtney's mother and my granny chatted to each other at church. But it so easily could have been my mum or Akeisha's mum grieving. Cara was still proper sad and she'll probably stay that way till the end of her days. I kept on asking myself why life had lost its value with my brothers and myself? How did Courtney and myself get into a state where we wanted to merk a brother or a school colleague?

At the end of the day though, I know even though I'm only in here for gun possession, I'm a murderer. I guess I'll have to carry that till they burn my black ass at the crematorium. I thought about death a lot in my cell and the scenes of Noel's murder and burial
were constant visitors to me at night. No way they'll lower my body into the earth! Fuck that! They can cremate my black ass.

Davinia had grown into a good-looking woman and as she sat opposite me I had this feeling of pride and nice vibes for her. Inmates around me openly admired her but she was used to that by now. In all my time in prison she had never talked down to me, lectured me or failed to visit when she said she would.

‘Hi, Dennis,' she said. ‘How you keeping?'

‘Same shit, different toilets,' I answered. ‘You're putting on weight and didn't I tell you not to come here wearing your fucking crop tops?'

‘Well, if that's your response I must look good!'

‘Anyway, I'm looking forward to getting out of this shit. I can't wait.'

‘Nor can we.'

‘Anyway, what's gwarnin with you? You gonna take a gap year from uni?'

‘No, I wanna get my education out of the way. I'm going on a week's holiday to Tunisia with friends from uni and then I'll be preparing to return to Loughborough.'

‘What's a matter with you, Davinia? Why don't you take off travelling and shit for a year? See Granny in Jamaica or something. Life is to be enjoyed as well as all that studying shit you do. Ain't you tired of that? Do you have some kinda fucked-up allergy to having fun?'

‘No, I don't. Like I said, I wanna get it out of the way.'

‘
Boring!
Typical Davinia. You'll be a doctor of sports medicine soon or whatever it is one day and you'll be the most sad one.'

‘Boring maybe,' she snapped. ‘But where did an exciting life get you? And what about you with your studying? And the Leicester thing? Are you thinking of studying there?'

‘First of all I study in this motherfucking place 'cos if I don't do something with my head I'll go all cuckoo on your ass. And I already told you why I wanna move out of London. I won't be able to concentrate on my shit if I'm in the Dirty South. There's this brother I met doing bird, a good bredren who helped me out in my
first few months. He's bonafide and his peeps live in Leicester. If I'm in Bricky I'll be looking over my shoulder everywhere I go. I know Akeisha's still there but to go back to Bricky might pull my black ass in the shit again. I'll be down at weekends to visit Akeisha, Paps and Mum.'

‘Well if you are in Leicester we could meet up during the week for lunch. Loughborough ain't too far away. You could pay me to do your assignments!'

‘Burn you, Davinia. I can do my own fucking assignments. And as for meeting up, yeah we could but I don't wanna waste my lunchtimes with you.'

‘Dennis!'

We laughed but after the joke faded I looked into Davinia's eyes. We were silent for about a minute. ‘You think I can do it, Davinia? Go on to Car mechanics or something? Not too many options for a man with a gun possession conviction, are there?
Shit!
Will the pussies let me do it? Fuck! If they do I'm gonna be more like Paps and Mum than you! Imagine that shit. Me in a fucking training class! Can you see my black ass in that kinda situation?'

She nodded… ‘Yes I do, Dennis. I hate to admit it but I didn't believe it when Mum told me you passed your A-Levels. God! My brother who was always chasing the next buzz and excitement! Passed his A-Levels! It took a while to sink in. Some of the family's good genes finally found their way to your brain! But seriously, if you want to go any further you've got to put the work in. There are two fundamental differences between me and you – I'm better-looking and you're bone idle and easily influenced, prone to peer pressure. Wait a minute, that's three!'

‘
Burn
you, Davinia.'

We laughed together and there was something reassuring about laughing with my sis. It wasn't always like that. During my first three months doing bird Davinia visited me and all we would do is have a fucked-up grim pulling face contest. But she saw it through with me and she always took the piss out of me as she's always done before she left. I liked that, it gave me a vibe of something normal in this fucked-up place.

‘You
can
do it,' she said, getting all serious again. ‘This is still a racist society and in it black women are tolerated more than black men… I know that now. Many victories have been won, by our parents' generation and Granny's generation. But there's still a few more battles to be fought. So, Dennis, every test you pass, every examination you pass and every progress you make is a small victory and a kick in the teeth for the people who hate us.'

For a few seconds I just had to sit there in admiration. Man! I was so proud of her but I still wanted to tease her like I always did. ‘Davinia, shut the fuck up! Don't start your preaching, Martin Luther King shit. Save that for nigger moments in uni.'

‘Why is it that whenever I try to be serious with you, you throw it back in my face? I'm getting fed up of it, Dennis. Sometimes I dunno why I come here…'

‘Why you come here? 'Cos having a banter with you is the only normality I get in this fucked-up place. I look forward…'

Weren't meant to let that shit spill out. We looked at each other as I trailed off and Davinia kinda blushed. We both felt uncomfortable.