Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 2

Book 2: Ride or Die Chick

by J.M. Benjamin

Genres: African American Urban; African American Women's Fiction

Synopsis

According to Teflon Jackson, she has nothing else to live for. Having lost the only man she ever truly loved to the streets of Virginia, and missing the child she gave up for adoption, she can't decide whether to continue to ride out her current predicament or end her life to meet up with her other half--until she is given another reason to live. Richard Robinson, a.k.a. Richie Gunz, the father of Treacherous Freeman, finds a way to reach out to Teflon while finishing up his last ten years in federal prison for armed robbery. Instantly the two form a father-daughter relationship thicker than thieves from behind the prison walls. Upon his release, Richie vows to find the whereabouts of his grandchild and to do everything in his power to aid Teflon in her situation. He re-enters the streets of Virginia after being absent for nearly three decades. With a second chance at life, Teflon is faced with the decision to live the way society deems best, or become a ride or die chick once again.

Release date: October 27, 2015

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“All rise for the Honorable Judge William H. Braswell of the District of Virginia.”

Teflon sighed in frustration as she struggled to lift herself up out of the wooden courtroom chair. She was sick and tired of being lugged back and forth to court month after month for something she already knew the final outcome of. She felt it had been a long and drawn-out case. When she first laid eyes on the jurors who would determine her fate, there was no doubt in her mind what type of verdict would be handed down. Seeing them over to her far right now, and the way they stared and murmured among themselves, only confirmed Teflon’s thoughts. The only reason she had actually taken her case to trial was because she knew it was what Treacherous would have wanted her to do. “We fighters, babe, we go hard or go home,” he would always say to her, Teflon recalled. She fought to suppress her emotions at the thought of her other half as a sharp pain jolted through the small of her back. Between the spasms she had been having since the gunshot wound she was recovering from and the nine-month-old life growing inside of her, her movement was turtle-like and painful. As tough as she was, she was no match for the battle she had been going through with the life inside of her. Noticing her facial expressions, her attorney made an attempt to aid her. It was apparent to him that she was in pain, but he was stopped in his tracks by her sudden expression that spoke volumes, making it perfectly clear to him that his services were not welcomed nor needed. After representing her for the last eight months, he had grown accustomed to her nonchalant and cold demeanor, so he was not at all surprised that she had declined his help. Teflon stood in front of the table with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, sporting her gray county sweat suit and county-issued tennis shoes. She used the table to brace herself as the judge entered the courtroom. The additional twenty-one pounds she put on between the baby and jail made it that much more difficult for her to stand. The weight was uncomfortable for her and she couldn’t wait to shed both it and the baby and get back to her normal size of nine-ten.

“Please be seated,” the judge instructed

“Umph,” Teflon grunted as another spasm shot through her lower back.

“This is the trial of the United States of America versus Teflon Jackson. Counsels, state your names for the record.”

“Your Honor, Mark Stanford of the public defender’s office of Norfolk for the defense,” announced Teflon’s attorney

“Christopher Malloy, district attorney of Norfolk for the prosecution, Your Honor.”

“If I’m correct, today is the final day of this trial,” the judge stated, skimming through the paperwork before him. “Counsels will deliver their closing arguments and remarks and the jury will render a verdict based on the information and evidence that has been presented to them throughout this trial. Counsel, are you ready to proceed?”

“Yes, Your honor, “ both counsels replied.

“Mr. Stanford.”

This was the moment of the truth, thought Mark Stanford. He took one look back at Teflon and slightly shook his head in disbelief as he sighed to himself. In exchanged, Teflon stared him right in the eyes, unfazed by his sympathetic eyes. He couldn’t believe how hard-core Teflon was and had been throughout the entire time of his representation. In his thirteen years of practice as a public defender, he had never encountered a client more difficult and rebellious then Teflon Jackson. In the eight months he had been her lawyer, from day one she was uncooperative. It had been like pulling teeth trying to get her to open up in order to assist him in trying to soften the blow of what he knew was her inevitable fate, according to what he had read and discovered about the case. There were a few angles and approaches he would have liked to have taken for her defense, but Teflon refused to talk with him after stating she wanted to go to trial. She wouldn’t budge even when he tried to appeal to her maternal side; still, she rejected the notion of helping him help her, so his only defense was based on the lack of evidence they actually had against her. Attorney Stanford sympathized with the pregnant young woman, but due to his heavy workload and promising cases of clients who were willing to help themselves as well as the government in exchange for leniency, he was all too happy to be bringing this particular case to a close. Mark Stanford took a sip of the ice water that sat before him and cleared his throat. “Members of the jury,” he started as he walked from behind the court table and adjusted his tricolor necktie. “In the past few months you have heard allegations from the prosecution against my client that make her out to look like not only this modern-day Bonnie from Bonnie and Clyde, but also this stone-cold killer. As you know, Ms. Jackson is being charged with multiple counts of conspiracy to commit armed robbery in the first degree and conspiracy to commit murder in the first.” He let the accusations of the charges linger before he continued. “But what she is being accused of and charged with is not the case here today. No.” He paused.

“The case here is what evidence has been presented to substantiate these allegations against my client.” He paused again, then pivoted.

“The prosecution would like you to be convinced that my client, Ms. Teflon Jackson, conspired to commit armed robbery, but yet he failed to produce any surveillance video clearly showing my client’s direct involvement in the allegation. Nor was he able to produce a witness from inside the bank who could testify to the fact of whether or not my client was held against her own free will by the deceased Mr. Treacherous Freeman.”

His words and the mentioning of Treacherous’s name instantly gained her attention and rubbed Teflon the wrong way. She had no idea or clue as to her attorney’s closing arguments and really didn’t care up until the time he had just tried to portray her as the victim and her other half as the villain. She was tempted to jump up and set the record straight, but Treacherous’s words danced in her head as if he were right beside her. “Using emotions over intellect is never justifiable,” she heard him repeating.

Why the fuck you leave me like this? Teflon questioned in her mind, staring up to the ceiling as if Treacherous were up there looking down at her. She grabbed a napkin off the table to wipe her left nostril. It began to run. She sat up and became attentive as her lawyer continued. “The prosecution states that my client is guilty of conspiracy to commit murder,” attorney Stanford said with emphasis, turning to face Teflon and pointing in her direction. He could tell she was not too pleased by the comment he had made about her deceased boyfriend. He knew he would be treading on thin ice with her by painting the picture he just had, but it was the only way he felt he could help spare her life. He was fully aware of the bond the couple shared. He had found out firsthand a few months back, when he had made the fatal mistake of merely referring to Treacherous as this guy and making mention of him being deceased. At forty-three years old, standing at five feet ten, tipping the scales at 215 pounds, he had never been so afraid of someone who he outweighed, and he’d felt outmatched in his life that day. And to top it off, it had been a woman who had instilled this fear within him. It wasn’t anything she had done—but what she had said and how she had said it—which sent chills throughout Mark Stanford’s entire body. He couldn’t help but replay the words that invaded his sleep many nights: “If you ever speak of my deceased loved one in vain in my presence ever again you’re gonna meet him.”

The calm manner in which she spoke convinced him that she meant every word of it. His first instinct was to report the incident and abandon the case, but his curiousness overpowered his decision. He wanted to see how this particular case unfolded and wanted to be the one who played a part in its unfolding.

“But yet, none of the murder weapons retrieved from the crime scene possessed my client’s fingerprints.”

His words caused Teflon to peer over toward the jurors’ direction. She noticed a few puzzled and quizzical expressions on a few of their faces. She knew that a key element of her case would stir up some, if not a great deal, of confusion among them. That was something she herself was confused about initially, knowing her involvement like she knew the back of her own hand. As she played the tapes back to the event, there was no doubt in her mind that she had hit at least one of the officers when they came out of Bank of America, before she herself took one in the side. The only explanation possible she could come up with was that Treacherous had wiped her prints off the gun she used, but why? That was something she would not get the answer to until the two of them met up in the future, she reasoned. Teflon listened as her attorney continued.

“Yes, my client is guilty. But not guilty of the charges she sits here with child being accused of.” Attorney Stanford paused for a second time to let the statement about Teflon being with child marinate. “The only thing my client is guilty of here today is loving a man too much and too hard,” he said. He really wanted to say, “Loving the wrong man,” but he didn’t want to go overboard with offending his client. Teflon’s threat months ago sat at the forefront of his mind and he thought better of it. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is not why my client is on trial here today. I hope you take all that I’ve said into account when making your ruling.”

Attorney Stanford ended with a bow and walked back around the table where Teflon sat. The two exchanged quick glances. Teflon gave her attorney no indication that she approved of his argument and he wasn’t looking for one. After all, it was his job. District Attorney Christopher Malloy skimmed through his notes one last time before he stood. He then looked over at Teflon, who felt his eyes on her.

“What the fuck you lookin’ at?” she mumbled under her breath just enough for him to hear and read her lips. The DA smiled and pushed his glasses up on his face. He had no sympathy whatsoever for the female criminal who sat across from him. According to the evidence, there was no doubt in his mind or heart that Teflon Jackson deserved all that she would receive and then some after a verdict was handed down. Despite what he was able to produce to build a strong case against her, he was confident the jury would render the right decision and continue to keep the female menace to society off the streets. It was DA Malloy’s intent to push for the maximum penalties, providing the verdict was what he believed it would be. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Despite what counsel says, the prosecution failed to produce. There has been evidence presented to you that clearly shows that the accused is in fact guilty of the charges she stands trial for. Evidence showed that Ms. Teflon Jackson and Mr. Treacherous Freeman exited the Norfolk, Virginia branch of Bank of America with weapons and were involved in a gun battle with police. Evidence clearly showed that there was a high-speed pursuit for Ms. Jackson and the deceased, endangering the welfare of other pedestrians and law enforcement. Evidence showed that the vehicle used as the getaway car was in fact the same car that was carjacked at a local McDonald’s, resulting in two murders. Evidence also shows that during this crime spree, six state police officers and four federal agents were killed in the line of duty, while five others were wounded. I’m not standing before you trying to convince you to speculate or even try to figure out what I didn’t or why I didn’t present the evidence counsel said I failed to produce. All I ask is that you look at the evidence that was presented to you by the courts and based on that and that alone render the decision that you feel fits. Thank you,” DA Malloy clasped his hands together and ended with a slight bow to the jury. He then returned to the table opposite of Teflon and her attorney. She rolled her eyes at the district attorney. When he sat down, he looked over at Teflon again, who now had a gun of her own plastered across her face. He had no way of knowing that Teflon was visualizing Treacherous pistol-whipping him with the butt of his gun while she stood there and watched.

“Members of the jury. You have heard both arguments in the case of the United States of America versus Teflon Jackson. It is your duty, after hearing both parties and based on the evidence presented before you, that beyond a reasonable doubt a decision is made. It’s now ten-forty-five a.m. The court will recess for an hour while the jury returns to chambers. Bailiff, please escort the jury back to chambers,” the judge ordered with his gavel. Hearing that, the two marshals sitting two rows behind Teflon and her attorney stood and approached the front of the courtroom. “Ms. Jackson, please stand and turn around,” the female marshal requested wit. . .