Page 10 of Love & Vendettas
It’s not the first time that my dad has been robbed, but they’ve never come into our home before. It’s always been something my mom worried about, but my dad has a lot of men on the streets who fear him. They wouldn’t dare do shit like that.
This ain’t that.
The dining room table is broken, chairs are turned over on their sides, and some dishes lie shattered on the floor. The girls are crying on the couch, sitting beside a woman police officer who’s restraining them from going to my parents. That same officer is holding Damascus, who is crying.
My parents both lie on the floor in handcuffs.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask, rushing to my sisters.
“Hey, buddy. Slow up,” another cop orders.
The house is crawling with police officers, and for the first time, I notice that they’re in the kitchen, my parents’ bedroom, and there’s another one heading to my sisters’ bedroom.
“I want to know what’s going on. Why are my parents being arrested?” I demand while another cop shoves his gun under my chin.
Fear and rage flow through me. I want so badly to snatch this gun out of his hand and then beat the brakes off his ass with it. Then I want to put a bullet in his brain.
Unfortunately, I have a quick temper. It’s something that I’ve struggled with all my life. In school, I’m in anger management classes, and I see a therapist twice a week.
“Z, calm down, son. Everything’s going to be okay. Just chill out. It’s all a misunderstanding that I need to straighten out,” my father commands.
“If you call a misunderstanding a few bricks stored in the same house your kids are in, a misunderstanding, I guess we can call it that,” the arresting officer states.
My mother is crying and saying my dad’s name repeatedly.
“Sir, please let my wife go. She has nothing to do with this. Neither do my children. Please, tell your officer to get that gun from underneath my son’s chin.”
“Richards, you can remove the gun. I’m not letting your wife go until I finish my investigation,” the officer professes.
“I’m not lying, sir. She didn’t know any of this stuff was stashed here,” my father pleads.
“I didn’t, officer. I swear that I wouldn’t have had this around my children,” my mom cries.
“Listen, Mr. Knight, we’ve been watching you and your home for some time. Now, I know that you’ve been dealing drugs, and there’s no misunderstanding,” the officer counters.
My father drops his forehead against the floor with a thud.
“Officer, please. Do what you've got to do with me, but please let my wife and kids go.”
I reach for my sisters, and the female cop releases them, and they run into my arms.
I hold them as they tremble and cry for our parents. I stroke their thick hair and whisper to them both, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I ain’t gonna let nothing happen to either of you, you hear me?”
They both nod, but they don’t stop crying. Eventually, the cops move to the rear of the house, where they find my twin brothers. The boys are obedient and don’t unlock the door until I tell them to. I only do that to prevent the officers from kicking the door in as they’ve threatened to do.
The investigation goes on for another two hours before they take my father away and put him into the back of the police car. They’ve released my mother, and she’s a wreck. She huddles with both girls and the twins on the couch and the twins. Damascus is now in her lap.
“I’ll be back, Mama.”
She nods woodenly, but I swear it’s like she doesn’t even see me. She’s so zoned out and shivering her ass off. I could kick my daddy’s ass. What the hell was he thinking?
I head outside into the night, where the entire neighborhood looks on.
“May I speak to my father?” I ask an officer.
He nods and replies. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Okay.”
