Game Crazy: Part Two - Jurisprudence: Game Crazy

By Tyrome Lee, Jr.

"Game Crazy" continues with Tyrome trying to manage the agony of accepting the reality of a tremendous loss. He experiences grief while trying to decipher whom his allies and enemies are. Tyrome's father is released from prison for the first time in fifteen years and they take their hustle on the road. The story comes to an apex when multiple characters become entangled in a web of deceit and are prosecuted for various crimes. Tyrome is forced to watch those he once loved and respected, turn their backs on the principles that bonded them to the ethics of the game. It's the same crazy game, but this time, the law is pulling the strings as the blind lady dishes out justice. The Saga Continues…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cherika Wilson
• Release date: Aug 25, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393139027

Book preview

Preface

We live and we die. That’s the simple way of defining life. We celebrate death because of what a person has accomplished in life, what they’ve left behind, and the impact they’ve had on others. We’re probably the only species who treats death with symbolic ceremonies and experience grief for a significant amount of time after the death of a loved one. 

As the murder rate increases in America, one would be led to believe that the value of life has decreased. We could easily be mistaken as an uncivilized nation of inhabitants who place little value on human life. A significant difference between America and other nations with proportionately similar murder rates is the inner workings of our legal system. The African-American community is categorically out of shape and has no chance against the biases of our counterparts, and our peers have been turned into our enemy. A theory relevant to how things are supposed to function cannot be sequentially defined whereas law statutes have victimized us. All sides of the legal system are against us and they work diligently to persecute us at disproportionate rates. Two lawyers and a judge, working hand-in-hand to subjugate a specific population, is the biggest thing in jurisprudence since the guillotine.

In the face of danger and turmoil, we resolve our conflicts in ways we’ve been accustomed to. We fail to utilize any forms of rationale because the unfamiliar is against our communal beliefs. Our communication amongst each other is hostile and to be open to resolution is viewed as a weakness. No one has the answer so we destroy for comfort. We force our ways of resolution onto other members of our community but we let those from the outside slide with their negative perceptions and opinions of us. 

What is normal and who defines it? It may not be what one group of people would clarify as normal. However, destruction and chaos evolves from a lack of cohesion and the absence of understanding. Chaos cannot create order. Peace was here first and we’ve been working in the opposite direction trying to restore peace amongst a population who defines chaos as normality. Chaos may be necessary at times; but it isn’t our customary design.

Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome is a term used to define what we’ve endured since the end of slavery and it is defined by criteria similar to post-traumatic stress disorder in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). Some people have used this term to justify our actions, behaviors, and for socializing in what some would call an uncivilized manner.

Some of our people take account of our trauma and use their knowledge to take a stand politically for the advancement of programs to service our people. It’s a step in the right direction but it can only cure the symptoms while the illness still exists. Our biggest tormentor is the American legal system and its way of prolonging our trauma by putting us back into the rows of the cotton fields, to further our psychological trauma. The most surprising fact is that we don’t even know we’re sick. We battle with the element of our masculinity as our defense and refused help for our sickness. We are counter-productively working against our progress. 

The act of revealing or communicating the divine truth is called a revelation. Revelations bring things to reality and change often occurs. Sometimes it takes people years or experiencing a traumatic event before they come across a revelation. What the fuck has black folks been experiencing for the last four centuries? 

Yes, it is us against them but they have made it us against ourselves. Peace must be restored amongst our own kind in order for us to fight for the equality of others. We have to render what is due to ourselves before Caesar receives anything! The law has never been on our side because we have always been the anomaly in society. Freedom isn’t free and justice isn’t just. What theoretical branch of law protects the persecuted population against the injustices of the oppressing class? That theory of law doesn’t exist. I bring you, Jurisprudence. 

You can find Game Crazy: Part One – Generations and other books from Post Script Publishing at:

www.PostScriptPublishing.org

Introduction

Hey, Mrs. Franklin did you hear that? It sounded like gunshots, one lady shouted to her neighbor across the street. Her neighbor, Mrs. Gully, responded, Yeah, but they sounded awfully close. These youngins at it again. I don’t know when this foolishness will end. The two ladies were startled by the gunshots because they were within close proximity to their homes. The ladies had been neighbors for over four decades. They were both widows and had witnessedthe horrific change in the neighborhood over the years. Hearing gunshots wasn’t uncommon to them because they’d seen a lot of turmoil in the neighborhood over the last 20 years. They’d seen the cocaine era, witnessed the territorial gang wars, and the dilapidation of a community that once flourished with black folks who all got along fine with each other.

They had children of their own that had fallen victim to negative lifestyles and addiction. So, the ladies did what most widows did in their twilight years; they gossiped and prayed. They both attended church faithfully because they knew God was the only sure thing in their life, and that they would be meeting him a lot sooner than some. But, they also gossiped about what was going on with everyone else in the neighborhood. It was the main source of entertainment in a community filled with drama.

These ladies weren’t surprised by anything they’d seen or heard by now. They were around when the neighbor to the left of Mrs. Gully cheated on his wife years ago. They all watched as she kicked him out, threw all of his belongings on the curb, and called him every name but a child of God. Their divorce tore their family apart and they eventually sold the house and moved a few years later.

They watched as the neighbor’s daughter to the right of Mrs. Franklin, threw her life away when she started hanging with the city’s biggest pimp back in the 80’s. She had a promising future ahead of her but she let a pimp persuade her into prostitution and drugs. The daughter still came around from time to time but she was merely a shell of her former self. Drugs had really done a number on her. She’d come by every now and then to stay with her parents for a few days whenever she was coming off a mean run. The neighbors would all just stare at her with a look of shame every time she came around. They felt sorry for her parents. 

Mrs. Franklin and Mrs. Gully had also been around long enough to witness Mrs. Fleeks’, another widow in the neighborhood, only grandson grow up and turn into a criminal. They raised him because both of his parents had fallen victim to drugs in the early 80’s. The Fleeks’ gave the boy everything and even sent him to Catholic school, only to watch him become a frequent visitor of the state’s correctional facilities. Yeah, they had seen all too much. They were lonely widows who only had gossip, God, and each other. 

But, on this particular day when the shots rang out, it seemed a little closer than usual. It seemed like it was only a few yards away. They’d always hear the gunshots when they were three or four blocks away on one of the main streets, but rarely this close. When Mrs. Gully responded to Mrs. Franklin, they both looked over towards Mrs. Fleeks’ house and saw a young man lying on the sidewalk bleeding, as another young man ran away. Oh, my Lord, Mrs. Franklin said, as she and Mrs. Gully moved as quickly as they could towards the young man on the ground. He was bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds to his chest area and he seemed to be gasping for air that wasn’t there. The ladies didn’t know what to do and it didn’t seem like the young man had much time left. 

As Mrs. Gully began to pray over the man and ask for God’s guidance in this situation, Mrs. Franklin gasped out, Oh, my Lord! That’s Johnnie Mae’s grandbaby. Johnnie Mae was a lady who once lived in the neighborhood but passed away about a decade prior. The ladies had known her for years and they all attended the same church. Mrs. Gully said, My God, it is...Come on, Betty. This man doesn’t have much time. Let’s pray... The ladies began to pray over the young man as other people started to come out of their houses to spectate. It didn’t look good for the young man as he continued struggling for air while coughing up blood. The ladies wanted to make sure the man was right with God so they continue to pray over him and started to administer his last rites in case he was on his way to his Maker. Mrs. Gully recited: 

Whether we live or die. We are in the Lord’s room. We shall always be with the Lord. As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear nothing because You are here. Lord Jesus, receive my spirit. I commend my soul into your hands. Lord I am not worthy to receive you, but I am healed by your word...

She continued to pray and held the man’s hands until the medics arrived and began working on him. Mrs. Franklin pleaded and prayed out loud, Please, do everything you can for him. That’s somebody’s baby. Lord, please guide their touch. Other people looked on in shock and fear because some of them also knew the young man who was clinging onto his life. All of them stood there in disbelief as the medics quickly put the man into the back of the ambulance and then rode off with their lights and sirens blaring. 

Mrs. Gully was hurt hysterically by seeing the man she once knew as a young boy. Johnnie Mae was a dear friend of hers. So seeing her grandson on the ground bleeding and struggling to survive affected her emotionally. Mrs. Franklin and a couple of neighbors had to help her across the street and back onto her porch because she was so distraught. What is this world coming to? You just shoot a man and leave him dying in the streets? For what?! Lord please, Lord Please!!! She shouted as she tried to make it across the street.   

The grief we experience can sometimes be expressed in words and through emotions. The five stages of grief start with denial and anger. Bargaining brings us to the brink of trading our pain for another pain. Some find a substance and others force themselves to believe that others need to experience our pain in order to understand. Once we come to the point that our loved one is gone and is not coming back, depression sets in. We unwillingly look for ways to carry on without them. Acceptance...Well, we never accept it. In our own minds they’re still here and live in our hearts.

This Can’t Be Life

(Denial)

The thoughts and feelings that were going through my mind were surreal. I felt an intense feeling of anger and worry that was new to me. Anxiety set in as I sped through traffic at an excessively high speed. My brother had been shot and I had no idea what to think. Yeah, I started to think who would be dumb enough to shoot my brother" but it wasn’t my concern at the time. My only concern was getting to the scene and making sure he was alright. 

Nicki said someone had been shot by Barnett Park but I found out that it was actually around the corner from the park, in front of the homie Hobz’s house. When I got to the scene, it reminded me of something out of a John Singleton or Hughes Brothers film. There was yellow tape, ambulance, fire trucks, and patrol cars everywhere. I ran through the yellow tape to find my brother and see if he was okay. Immediately, I was grabbed by two uniformed police officers who knew me by name. Tyrome, your brother was taken to Harborview Hospital, one of the officers said. Quickly, I ran back to