“How much you trust your boy, Flip?” I asked him. I had information to tell him about Flip, but first I wanted to hear what Reggie had to say about him.
“I trust that nigga with my life. I’ve known him since the second grade. His mama is like a second mama to me, and my mama is like a second mama to him. Out of all the niggas that I run with, I trust Flip the most. He was there with me when the door was kicked in, and the feds locked us all up. What? Why you asking me about Flip?” he wanted to know.
I looked him in his eyes, and I sat back a little in my chair because I knew that what I was getting ready to tell him was going to hurt him. He was going to feel this shit right in his chest. I’ve seen Reggie’s social media, and I’ve seen Flip’s. Them niggas loved each other, and when you saw the post that they had of each other on their social media pages, you would really think that they were brothers. Even though what I was getting ready to throw on Reggie about his boy was about to be low, and the ultimate betrayal from his friend, I still believed that Flip loved him; that nigga was just in a tough spot, scared to face all that prison time, and he got to singing.
“Flip been working with the feds,” I released, getting right to the point, and when I said that, Reggie looked at me like I was crazy. Not only did he look at me like he thought my ass was lying, but I could also see it in his face where he felt offended.
“Man, get the fuck out of here with that shit. I don’t believe that shit for a second. Me, and that nigga felons. We not supposed to even be riding around with guns on us. Just a few months ago, me and him were in the car together, and I had a gun on me. Cops pulled us over, and Flip told me that he would confess to the gun being his, so that he could sit down and do that time, and I wouldn’t have to do it because I was heavy into my rap career. That’s just a small example of the kind of loyal ass nigga that Flip is. I expect a lot of niggas to be singing rightnow, telling shit that happened in our camp, but you not going to convince me that my right-hand man is working for the feds. I need proof. I don’t believe that for a second,” Reggie shot, just like I knew he would.
I made sure that I came with all kind of proof because anything that I was saying to him, I wanted to be able to back it up.
On the right of me, there was a manilla folder, and it was labeled ‘Confidential informant report summary’. Inside the folder, I had different paperwork, that entailed all the meeting dates, conversation sum-ups, different reports of major topics Flip would talk to the feds about, the role that he played in this shit, and of course time stamps. I put everything out in front of Reggie for him to see, and walked him through this shit, so that he could see that his boy wasn’t as loyal, and as trustworthy as he thought he was.
“They pulled up on Flip about six months ago. Them NM Jack boys that ya’ll killed, the feds pulled up on Flip, questioning him about that. At first, they tried to pin all that shit on him. Telling him that per each nigga that was popped, he was looking at a life sentence. Flip a little nigga just like you. Ya’ll boys not even twenty- five yet, so a life sentence at that age would scare the shit out of anybody. They hounded Flip for a few weeks, trying to get him to make a deal with them. He eventually gave in because he wasn’t trying to rot in a cell for the rest of his life. The deal was that he had to help the feds take down the whole ‘Lo-bro’, and that includes you, and every other nigga that’s a part of that gang. Follow me now. I told you that they came at him six months ago with this shit. He took the deal. What you think that nigga been doing for the past six months?” I asked him, wanting to see if he was following where I was going with this.
“That nigga been wearing a wire?” he asked me. It was pain in that question. Sadness. A feeling of betrayal. If Reggie wasn’t so tough, I’m sure he would have broken down in tears.
“Bingo. He been feeding the feds information for six months straight. That’s your brother. That’s your right hand, so with that, ya’ll are going to talk. With the recordings that they have over there, its names, all kinds of murder confessions, just anything that you thought would have stayed confidential between you, and your brother,” I shared.
There was a look of anger on his face, as his jaws clenched, and because he was shaking his leg up and down, the chains that were tied to him were making a rattling sound, as it scraped against the tiled floor each time that he bounced his leg. A stone-cold look was in his eyes as he picked his head up, and there was almost like hatred that came over him, as he cleared his throat.
“Ima be real nigga, what the fuck can you even do for me at this point? You coming in here, telling me all this bad shit, but I haven’t heard you give a fuckin solution to all these problems that I got yet. My mama gave you 50 racks to defend me in court. When the fuck is the defending going to start? I’m a millionaire, nigga! You supposed to be this high-profile attorney, yet you got your client sitting in this bitch, chained up, awaiting a motha fuckin court date, when I could be at home, waiting to have my day in court!” he snapped at me.
I had to look around this small room because I just knew that this lil motha fucka wasn’t talking to me. I stayed calm though. Calm was the best way for me to stay because any other feeling would have me jumping across this table, not giving him a fair fight because he was chained up, and beating the fuck out of his ass.
“You pulling out timestamps, showing me pictures, talking about cell towers and shit, telling me how my nigga been wearing a wire. You a motha fuckin lawyer, ain’t it? I’m payingyou to be my lawyer, and represent me, right? Nigga, lawyer up, and fix the fuckin problems that I got! Clean this shit up, nigga!” he snapped, still going. I let my clients do a lot of shit…be angry, get stressed out, curse, but the last thing that I would do was allow a client of mine to disrespect me. I enjoyed my peace way too much to deal with this kind of bullshit and disrespect.
“You finished?” I calmly asked him, gathering up the paperwork that was on the table, getting ready to make my exit.
“I’m finished nigga. At this point, I don’t even know if I can trust you. How I know if you not working with the feds?” his stupid ass asked me. To keep myself calm, I laughed, stood up, and I placed the paperwork back in its rightful folders.
“I’m glad you’re finished. I got this thing about me where I don’t represent ungrateful niggas where their ego overpowers their fuckin common sense. Have that kind of energy, and shit talking for a public defender, nigga. You can’t know who the fuck I am because if you did, there’s no way in hell that you would be talking to a nigga like this. I’m the closest thing to God that your ass got right now, meaning that it’s only two people that can help you out of this shit, and that’s God, and me, but you got me fucked up, and I can’t do shit for you, homie. You chained up, and with all the evidence they got of you, nigga you looking at multiple life sentences. I told you from day one that I’m not the kind of attorney that’s going to sugar coat shit with you. I’m going to give you the good, the bad, and the ugly. Any time that I came down here to meet with you, I always shared with you, my findings. From there, I would talk about my solution, and the way we were going to go about this shit in court. That wire shit was easy to get tossed out. All I had to do was file a motion to overturn the wire because the way they went about it with Flip was improper handling. The cell towers, I could have went deeper with that shit, got a tech expert to get on the stand, and we could have argued reasonable doubt, and said that you werejust near the scene, and not directly at it. I know how to clean up the dirtiest stories. Nigga, I been doing this shit since you were learning how to piss straight. You cocky, and I’ll be damned if I let a little nigga talk to me like I work for you. I built my own company so that I didn’t have to work for nobody and take answers from no man. You need me, nigga. I don’t need you. You fumbled the only miracle that your ass had in this shit,” I snapped, once all my shit was packed up, and in my briefcase.
“Whatever nigga. I don’t give a fuck! You not the only attorney out this bitch. I’ll have you replaced the second I get out this bitch and get on the phone with my people,” he said, and I chuckled while I made my way over to the door, knocking, so that a C.O could open it, and I could get the fuck on.
“Nah. I’m not the only attorney out here. I’m just the nigga everybody call when a shot at freedom looks fuckin impossible. I wish you well on your journey, main man. The shit you talking, you’ll never get out this bitch, and I’ll see your daughter on social media with the rest of the world before your ass do,” was my last response to him, and the door opened. I know my response was cold, but that lil nigga had me hot. When I got hot like this, nothing was off limits, and I said whatever was at the tip of my tongue.
I walked out, and I got on. During my time of being an attorney, I think I might have quit on three cases. I didn’t allow niggas to disrespect me. When he calmed down, and he realized that he allowed his ego to make a dumb ass decision for him, and he had his people reach back out, it was going to be too late. I didn’t double back on shit outside of Yaya. That’s the only person in the world that had that kind of power over me to make me double back in anything.
I knew this was going to come with some backlash from a lot of his fans though, but I was prepared for it. The way I wasraised, and the way I lived life, I’ve always been prepared for just about anything.
Chapter Eight
SORAYA ‘YAYA’ CRAWFORD
“Crawford law group. This is Tionna speaking,” Law’s assistant answered the phone.
I called into his office, with the expectation of her answering the phone. I needed her to answer the phone. I needed her to tell me what he was doing, where he was, so that I could pull up. I was taking lunch, and because I was still in the groveling process, trying to get my man back, here I was, about to pull a him on him, like he used to do when we were happily married, and he would come down to my office, and surprise me with lunch, so that we could have cute lunch dates. Don’t get me wrong, I used to pop up at his office as well, but Law was always busier than I was, having to report to different places more often than I did, so I couldn’t always come down as much as I would have wanted to.
“T, what’s up? It’s me, Soraya,” I said, as I was leaving the parking garage at my office building.
“Soraya, girllll! You haven’t called this front desk in over a year. Girl, what’s up?” she asked me, and I chuckled.
I had a pretty good relationship with Law’s assistant, Tionna. She’s been working for Law for years, and I knew how much he loved, and appreciated all that she would do at the office.I was never the kind of wife where I was insecure about my man working hand and hand with another woman because just knowing Tionna the way that I did, knowing the way she presented herself, I knew damn well that she didn’t want Law. She looked at him like a big brother, and I know he saw her as a little sister. She put her hard work and time into his business, being everything for him, and his company that he needed her to be. I used to tell her that I know her job wasn’t easy because dealing with Law in any kind of aspect was never easy. When he loves, and when he knows what someone is capable of doing, he will ride your ass and push you to lengths that he knew you could reach. Law used to always tell me to go to law school because he felt like I would make a good attorney. He would tell me that we could work alongside each other, and I would always tell him that we would have divorced if we worked together because back then, I would love Law as a husband, but I knew I would hate him as a colleague. He was too tough, and that just wouldn’t be good for us. Tionna could handle it though. If she couldn’t, I just know that she would have quit years ago.
“Girl, I know. I’m taking my break. I’m calling just to see where Sevyn is. Is he in court, meeting, on a call? You know his ass stays on the move,” I responded, and that made her chuckle.
“He does. He’s about to start a meeting right now. They have their Friday round up meeting. He just called me like two minutes ago to let me know he was heading to the conference room. You want me to see if I can connect you with him?” she asked me.
