Transgressions: How One Man Survived Big Intercity Corruption

By ROGER D. GRIFFIN

Big Inner City politics are notoriously corrupt!
But are you aware of how deeply the widespread this corruption is?



Transgressions: How one man survived Big Inner City Corruption




This is the story of how Roger D. Griffin spent his life bumping up against the citys finest police:
From having drugs strapped to his body with duct tape as a child and being slashed severly as it was razor-bladed off- to going "undercover" for a fraudulent FBI team to break up a very real V.A. fraud ring. Griffin experienced it all.




The center piece of the damning evidence-an erotic audio tape of his children being assaulted at gun point with a police officer crowning proudly in the background during a crack party rave on the outskirts of the drama is a shadowy figure named "Timothy Bakersfield", a pseudonym for the man who will one day rise to the top.




This novel is one mans quest to bring justice to those who harmed his children, and along the way combating others seeking to destroy his life and those he deeply loves.
In the end, the audio tape gives us a "smoking gun" -Requiring a professionally developed forensic transcript in which the circuit court does not divulge the identity of the speaker.




Griffins tenacious courage lead you down the rough path of misplaced loyalty, greed, and hate to arrive miraculously on the other side intact and willing to carry on the pride.




Mr. Timothy Bakersfield


Remember my family


I am back!




No one is above the United States Constitution Supreme Court Federal Rules and Regulations!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483614779

Book preview

TRANSGRESSIONS

How One Man Survived

Big Intercity Corruption

ROGER D. GRIFFIN

Copyright © 2013 by ROGER D. GRIFFIN.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2013905268

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4836-1476-2

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4836-1475-5

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4836-1477-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Book cover design all copyright © reserved 2013.

Rev. date: 06/24/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

Chapter 1       God Created Me So That…

Chapter 2       Creating a Soldier

Chapter 3       Big City Life

Chapter 4       The Big Secret

Chapter 5       Rise of a Black President

Chapter 6       Criminals, Beware Someones Watching!

Chapter 7       After Life

Chapter 8       Top Secret Mission

Chapter 9       Operation Black Hole

Chapter 10       Cleaning Dead Presidents

Chapter 11       Abandon

Chapter 12       The Assassination

Chapter 13       The Contact

Chapter 14       Teamsters

Chapter 15       The Freight Company Fault

Chapter 16       Introduction of the Matrix

Chapter 17       Searching for Sleeper

Chapter 18       Deceptive Practices

Chapter 19       Enter the Matrix

Chapter 20       The Confession

Chapter 21       Exposing CMA Untouchable Soldiers

Chapter 22       In Too Deep

Chapter 23       CMA Police Attack

Chapter 24       E-mails

Chapter 25       Inspiration

Chapter 26       Summary—Before the Games Begin

Chapter 27       CMA Court

Chapter 28       CMA Voted

Chapter 29       Spiritual Mission

Chapter 30       CMA Home Welcome

Chapter 31       CMA Conspiracy Trapped

Chapter 32       CMA Federal Court

Chapter 33       Operation Black Hole Complete

Chapter 34       Arguments

Chapter 35       Closing Transgressions

jehovah,

I acknowledge.

My God, my God, why have you left me? Why are you far from saving me, From the words of my roaring? O my God, I keep calling by day, and you do not answer; And by night, and there is no silence on my part . . . . PSALMS 22

All Scripture is inspired of God and beneficial for teaching, for reproving for setting things straight for disciplining in righteousness, that the man of God may be fully competent, completely equipped for every good work. 2 Timothy 316

No temptation has taken YOU except what is common to men. But God is faithful, and he will not let YOU be tempted beyond what YOU can bear, but along with the temptation he will also/ make the way out in order for YOU to be able to endure it. 1 Corintihians 10:13

All scriptures are derived from The New World Translation of the Holy Scripture.

Warning!

This real life story is based on official public records and police report files. Because of that, all names and places have been changed to protect the innocent. Due to some sexually graphic content depiction in this publication reader discretion is advised. The characters and events portrayed here are factual and true, it mainly revolves around an incident in Domestic Court in that minors had no defense on material evidence offered to the court. That took the form of electronic digital media in that adults were accused being caught engaging in inappropriate behavior with two minor children.

It was also entered into official record although there were no displayable images of the adult’s interaction in an erotic nature with said minor children, the content contain on the media are that of the adults voices clearly interacting. This case never made it to trial reason being the content is believed to be in the interest of the United States Government and the American People was made silent in order to protect certain powerful official parties that may have been unknowingly captured on permanent digital media also interacting with said minors.

But there was something not officially known at the time and that wasduring all these incursions taking place the biological father of these minorchildren was an undercover military officer recruited by the Federal Bureauof Investigation, which was still in full operation. It is believed that a 15year Federal Reserve Fund fraud Scam that involved federal workers inconjunction with some of the undercover officer closest relatives were alsocaptured on the same digital media.

This undercover officer was under Top Secret Orders not to divulge his trueidentity under any circumstances was still able to shut down the fraud, butonly after the erotic audio was created with his two helpless children. Whenthese matters were entered into judgment, court official records were madesilent in both circuit and federal court. Despite numerous death threats andattempts on the author’s life, this publication picks up his story with theevidence that was made silent in all these matters. To openly reveal whatoccurred, how it occurred and what is contained on a professional forensicaudio. That was converted into a transcript for the courts that stemmed fromthis particular night that the media was created.

Because of the content contained in these State and Federal court cases I amprohibited from exposing these criminal true identities by inferring the readerto offsite information, places and things, but still that will not stop me fromrevealing this real life story. These criinals have hidden their crime againstour children’s within our own laws, rules and regulations by tampering withofficial federal, state and public records. It has taken me three decades tobring this story, but it really all began when I was just a five year old child.These events took place somewhere in the United States of America.My name is really not Roger D. Griffin this is my side of an official storyto the best I can recall each event, but I request no audience with the public.This is intended as my petition to God for there is No Human justice for theimmoral crimes they have done.

Why is it that the way of wicked ones is what has succeeded, that all those who are committing treachery are the unworried ones? Jeremiah 12:1

May my life journey inspire heavenly decisions in your life!

When I was a minor, men frocked up over my life. When I grew up, I frocked to the United States Military. When I accidently stumbled into a major criminal scam, the military came frocking straight to me for help. Then when I was discovered by these criminals, they frocked up my family. When I had no one and nowhere to turn to, I turned frocking straight to God. I found Holy Spirit and then the frocking truth. Now I am back with real news that will truly frock around this world!

Warning: Do not lean on your own understanding as to the terms frock, frocked, and frocking. As to how these words will be used and will appear in this publication.

Chapter 1

God Created Me So That . . .

One of my earliest memories is sitting on a train, and for some reason, I can’t bend my arms or my legs. I kept telling Mother I cannot move, but she would not say anything. So I rolled out of my seat then fell face first on to the floor.

I could see a man seated next to Mother. He quickly picked me up with one hand by the seat of my pants and threw me across the seat next the window. He said, The next time you move, I will throw you off the train! I looked out of the window. The train was moving rather fast for me to be getting off! I looked back at him, and he said, I mean it!

I could not see Mother. I wish I could remember her giving me some comfort as I started to cry.

This didn’t just happen once, but many times, as Mother, baby brother, and I would travel by train to Detroit, Milwaukee, New York, and Chicago. I would ask Mother, Uh, what’s wrong with my brother? How come he can move around? And Mother would answer by quickly getting up out of her seat, coming over to me, and then she would pop me in the mouth and tell me to shut up!

My Mother, Terra Griffin, was born on June 11, 1941. She was the eldest of thirteen siblings. She was also the first of her siblings to give birth, to me, on September 9, 1960.

When I was six, I remember sitting on the floor, playing with my little G.I. Joe soldiers who were capturing all the bad policemen and putting them in jail for being mean to black people. Mother walked in one day with my new baby brother, whose name was Oscar, and I asked, Why doesn’t he have the same last name as you and me, Mommy?

That’s when I learned that I had a sister and two more brothers after me.

I came from a typical inner-city home—that was messed-up by being a broken family. My Mother was a drug runner, and I was being used as the carrier. I always knew when it was time to travel. Mother would send me to retrieve the tape from the kitchen drawer. Mother’s boyfriends would apply plastic bags to my chest, back, and legs. Eventually, I would cry when they attempted to restrain my arms. Then I would be carried to the car, bus, or train; and I had to sit still in my seat for as long as the ride took.

Sometimes we would ride on an airplane. If I was real quiet, when we landed, I could pick out whatever toy I wanted. As a minor, I did not know that what they were doing was wrong, and at times, I enjoyed all the traveling and sights to the point of loving it. Afterward, I could run and play all day into the night. The only problem was I hurt from sitting still in my seat. If I were on a train, sometimes that would be for hours or for days with the drugs taped to my body. Then I had to endure the painful yanking, pulling, and cutting of the taped drugs all over my body. It would take weeks for my body to heal.

One time, they pushed the limit. They drugs weighed more than I did, and they had used too much tape and too many layers of plastic between my body and their drugs.

I recall Mother pouring water on me, calling my name, Roger, baby, please wake up! Baby, wake up! Wake up. Please, oh, God!

Jehovah is near to all those calling upon him . . . in trueness . . .

—Psalms 145:18

After that event, Mother started attending religious services, but even those seemed crazy to me. The music was too loud; a man dressed in all white with a big cross on his chest kept screaming at anyone, calling on their God to save us all. Then suddenly, Mother would get the Holy Ghost.

She would begin to tremble, her eyes would roll back, and she’d jump up and down uncontrollably! There were several nurses who’d have to restrain her. When Mother calmed down, just two or three more people would stand up after her and start bouncing around the floor. Some were taken away in ambulances.

I thought, whoever this God was, I did not want him saving me. Mother would have to drag me to church, and I would cry through the entire service.

You believe there is one God? You are doing quite well.

And the demons believe and shudder!

—James 2:19

Around this time, I also realized that I really hated my brother, Oscar. I would just watch everybody talk about how cute he was. I got jealous because it seemed everyone was always picking him up and playing with him and not me. As I looked out of the window, watching the other kids run around freely, laughing and playing outside, that caused me to wonder. Why was I so different?

Once, I remember waking up in a bed in a dingy hospital room. I overheard the doctor tell the nurse to call the police. He had just finished locating and counting the number of lacerations marks on my body. I remember vividly a policemen kneeling down, rubbing my head, saying, You’re a tough little kid, you gone be all right, just after I saw a man handing him some money.

The next morning, as I looked out of the window, I saw all the kids running around, having fun playing. I thought that it was time for Mr. Oscar to leave us now as he lay asleep in the bed behind me with the babysitters busy on the phone in the other room. I found a box of matches on the floor. I became hypnotized looking at the dark orange, then the black and blue, the white and red, all the pretty colors of the fire slowly creeping up the wall. It was so beautiful.

When I looked down on to the bed, that little runt, Oscar, was gone, and I heard a man say, Come on, kid, we got to go now! When he picked me up and carried me out of the burning room, something suddenly happened. I split into two. The fireman was carrying me, and the other me was still standing there, looking at me being carried out. When we reached out our arms to each other, just then, the ceiling came crashing down, and then he vanished between the pillar of clouds and white smoke. It was though a vortex had suddenly opened and closed, switching our two spirits in space and time.

After I burnt down the apartment bedroom unit, I went to stay with my grandmother house on South of Little Town in the middle of the block on Parnell Street.

I remember walking upstairs. My grandfather said, Boy, I catch you playing with matches in my house, am gone light your ass up! Grandma’s husband, Mr. Maze Dickson, was a real good carpenter, fisherman, car mechanic, you name it—when he wasn’t drunk! He had me call him Mr. Maze.

Out of Grandma’s thirteen children, only her two youngest daughters still lived there. Charlene Dickson was a couple of months older than me, and Dorissa Dickson was a couple of years younger than her sister Charlene and me. Everyone wanted me to refer to them as my aunties and they minded over me, but that was absurd. I was more mature than them.

I also recall meeting four out of five of my uncles on my mother’s side, but only three of them lived there in the big white house with us. Darrel, Anthony, Milton, and Carl Thomson would come over to mostly visit. Later in life, Milton and Carl would contract HIV. That was the first time I met Mother’s family.

I believe the fire was just a calling. I was enrolled into an elementary school just three blocks away. This is the first time I really attended school. I was a fifth grader then. I have never told anyone this: God bore an innocent spirit into this world, and the treacherous heart of man used me to traffic drugs. I never played with anyone until mandatory laws were enforced and I had to attend school.

Later, while I was out of the house, someone caught Dorissa playing with matches, and that person poured gasoline on her backside and lit her on fire. No one called the police, but Mr. Maze, along with the family full of remorse at that tragic sight of burns on his daughter’s body, he became stone drunk. He sat behind the wheel of his old Chevy Station Wagon, talking to us kids. He suddenly hit the gas pedal, drove down the street, up over the elevated train track, and down on to several parked cars just outside the realm where kids play just a few feet away. After that, the kids in this family never ever played with matches again.

I sincerely doubt that any child begins life thinking he or she is going to grow up to be a thug—dealing drugs, selling erotic desires, doing all the things that thugs do.

No, a child learns that by behavior, and it comes from a mother or a father allowing a child to be around people displaying and showing a child that life doesn’t deserve respect. It comes from being ripped from every safe place you find that you feel that nothing is sacred. If life doesn’t deserve respect, if nothing is sacred, then it is very easy to abuse another human being, use them for money or for sensual pleasure or both.

By the time I was twelve, I had moved back in with Mother on the same side of town but on Paulina Street. I started attending a different elementary school. When Oscar and I were alone with Mother, we all slept in the same bed. When Mother had company, then Oscar and I slept on the pull-out couch.

I loved school because, there, I had friends. Someone who liked me for me was a young boy named, Kevin. He was my first true friend, and I knew we would be friends forever. We were the same age, attending the same school. We would ride our bikes everywhere, and we got chased by the same white kids all the time! We got chased mainly because we were some of the first black kids to move in that all-white neighborhood. Eventually, we kids would all fight every other day after school, on weekends, and when school lets out for the summer. We would grab our baseball bats, meet up at the park, draw a white box on the side of the park building and throw rubber balls at each other all day playing a game called strikeout.

My other true-blue friend was a white kid named Raffy. But Raffy broke my heart because he didn’t stay in our neighborhood for long. I remember the day he was to move out of the neighborhood. When he came knocking on the door to say good-bye, I was so mad at him I wouldn’t answer. I was crying too hard. I wanted to come and say good-bye but couldn’t.

At the end of summer, when school started, I was the class clown, and when the school year ended, I was still a clown! Mother had to have a meeting with the school’s principal because I had failed the eighth-grade United States Constitution test three times in a row. That’s when I heard the man say that I had been in thirteen different elementary schools and that there was no way I can graduate. I was shocked then hurt. I looked at Mother with tearful eyes as to say how could you do this to my life?

Later that evening, Oscar and I were stationed on the back porch, and I was beating the crap out of him. By this time, it was clear that he was mama’s little baby brat, and he could get away with anything—he would just run to her for protection. But this time, his bark was worse than his bite that hit me too far below the belt. I didn’t know that we were scheduled to leave our little city that night on a train headed to a bigger city, but he said to my face, I hope it hurt like hell, when you get to the big city and they drag your frocking ass in the room to start cutting and ripping the tape off your black frock!

Just then, the kitchen backdoor opened up, and a gray-headed white man walked out. Oscar darted straight past him in through the door, yelling out, Mama!

I couldn’t believe it. It was the principal of my school. He stopped briefly, tapping me on the shoulder, saying, Your mother really love you, son! So later in my years, when I saw that hit movie Forrest Gump, that scene of the movie really it home! My mama was a good-looking woman, but even I knew at that age just by getting fleshly with someone to get what you want denigrates the human soul.

As I went into the kitchen, I saw the two new rolls of duct tape sticking out from the top edge corner of the refrigerator. Mother was holding my diploma with a big smile, saying, Surprise!

I held up the two rolls of duct tape. She said, Look, boy! Look at what I got for you! Don’t you dare be ungrateful! Now you can attend high school when we get to the big city!

The day we arrived in the big city, I will never in my life forget it. We got off the train, and there to greet Mother was a man in a sharp gray suit. He introduced himself as Mr. Dernon Cage. He hailed a cab, and I just stared. I was so amazed at all the people walking on the streets. We all had to hold hands and squeeze between the rows of fast walking people as Dernon yelled at Mother, saying, Taxi! Terra, come on, hold on to Roger. Let’s go now!

As I rode in the cab, Dernon told me that he was really happy to see me again. But I was not happy to see him. I knew he was just one of the careless men who believed that securing drugs was the no. 1 priority, and the fastest method to get them was to cut and rip the packages off my body as quickly as possible.

Dernon thought he was so intelligent because he worked for a big insurance company. We were riding in the cab a few blocks from the train station, and just then, he turned to me and said, Roger, you have no idea you are going to make so many people a lot of money! He was interrupted.

The cab driver stopped for the red light, and two taxicabs came out of nowhere. One pulled up in front of our cab, blocking the intersection, and another cab pulled up behind us. There were two policemen sitting in the front and two in the backseat of each cab. The police did not flinch an inch, just stood there staring at us through the coolest dark sunglasses I had ever seen.

Dernon said, I know who they are. Don’t anybody move or say anything!

Then a man off the street appeared from off the curb. He slowly walked up to the side of our cab. Dernon handed him a fat white envelope as the man turned to me and gave me a coldhearted stare. He said, Is that the kid? Is this for everybody and all counted out evenly, right?

Dernon said, Yes, sir, it’s all there! Then I noticed that the man talking to Dernon, with his right hand, tipped a two-finger salute at one cab while he waved the police off in the other cab; and just like that, they were gone before the light turned green.

We went to the outer suburbs of the big city. On the borderline of two counties at the corner of Harrison Street, there, on one of the four-floor apartments was our new home. Dernon slowly cut, ripped, and pulled the packages off my nude body using a used shaver blade. As the packages were painfully peeled off, there were other men there, collecting the drugs as well. A short man in a fancy suit sat in the recliner chair, smoking a big fat cigar, told Dernon, Be careful. Don’t hurt the kid!

He got up to talk with someone on the phone in the other room. It seemed like hours went by. Just as always, something went wrong. Dernon had blood everywhere! The short man in the other room was speaking in Italian when he walked back where I was sitting. He saw the lacerations and the blood and then waved his two fingers at two other men who immediately grabbed Dernon from behind.

The short Italian man said, Did I not say be careful, don’t hurt the kid? I couldn’t believe it. Someone was actually concerned about me for a change.

Then he looked over at me and said, Look at you! Why did you not call out to me or say something? Didn’t that hurt?

I replied, I am used to it!

Just as I spoke out, a third man from behind Dernon hit him in the back of the head. He must have hit him hard because Dernon collapsed to the floor, and they carried him out. The short man said, That is what happens when I have to repeat myself!

I was whisked off to the bath. I guess the cuts were really deep this time. They put me in a tub full of Epsom salts and peroxide. It stung real badly, and I cried—not hard, but silent tears. This time, Mother used dish detergent as bubbles, I guess to cover up all the little cuts on my legs, arms, back, and chest or hide the blood underneath in the stained bath water.

As I lay sniffling in the bathtub, Mother came in with a small table stand and sat beside me. She said, Roger, I want to show you something. She pulled out a small sample of every type of street drug she knew of that time.

Mother explained, This is marijuana, better known as ‘weed’ or ‘pot.’ It looks like a funny cigarette when rolled in this paper called ‘tops’ or ‘jobs.’ She told me that it is a commonly used social drug. She said, Your so-called friends will smoke around you at schools, parks, and parties.

I asked, Can I die from smoking that?

No, Mother continued, not when used alone. But yes, it can if used while drinking too much alcohol and or combined with other drugs such as these pills. She pointed to red and blue pills. Smoking weed can kill you!

At that time, those pills were referred to as tees and blues!

Then Mother showed me some white powder and said, This is cocaine, another socially used drug. She went through all the different ways people used it.

When Mother arrived at the drug called heroin, she briefly simulated the use of spoons with the syringe and warned me of the physical and mental effects of every type of addictive behavior and habit I would suffer if I ever took anything like heroin.

She spent hours explaining to me what drugs do to a person and how to recognize them. I finally asked her, Why are you showing me all this?

Mother said, "Some people sell drugs on the streets and make lots of money. Dernon brought you here with the drugs. Some families [I didn’t know she wasn’t talking about just me, her, and Oscar] make lots of money on the street selling drugs, and with that money, we can make large investments and build big businesses. Roger, because of you, our ‘family,’ over the years, has grown very powerful. [Oh, the Italian guy—this ‘family’ thing must be the mafia, I thought.] By you helping to get the drugs from our little city to this big city, a lot of people have become very wealthy! This ‘family’ I joined will always take care of us. Especially you! Because you played a very big role this last time!

And here’s the best part. If you ever need a job or if you ever get in trouble with some police who are not connected to our ‘family’ or even if you have problems in court with a judge that is not a member of our ‘family,’ they will be there to help you. Like they’ve helped me! One of the reasons we had to leave our city was because I wrote out some bad checks, and the police were closing in on me. I had agreed to bring you here for the family just until they could get the police and the court to drop the charges.

Mother told me that Dernon and her boyfriends were with people who call themselves five percenters. I never did figure out what that meant. Maybe it was ten percenters. These people believe they are literally gods whatever. But Mother said, You are the only one that has taken a blood oath! That means the family cannot and should not kill you for any reason! A time will come and millions of people could be killed here in America, and I [meaning she] could be one of them! But not you, because of your blood oath you took as a baby for this criminal family I joined back then, so you could live when others will die!

I had taken a blood oath when I was a baby? I was part of a mafia family that should not kill me for any reason? That was burned into my memory that day.

But life went on, sort of normal. I started attending high school. I have no idea where my mother was most of the time. Every morning, I would wake myself up on time, get Mr. Oscar up and fed. We would walk to school. I had a horrible time in high school—I had no idea what the teacher was talking about half the time. I started falling behind in my grades really quickly which I didn’t like. I would come home, cook for me and Mr. Oscar, and fight with him about doing his homework.

By the end of my first semester, I started doing pretty good in school. One day, as I left school about to walk home, I saw Dernon with Mother and Oscar waiting for me. They were in a brand new blue two-door Ford Elite. There was another car behind them with two white men. One got out and said, Is this the kid? What’s his name? Oh yea! Roger! Hey, Roger! You are riding with us, little buddy! Hop in the backseat! It will be okay, kid. We all going to be one big happy family!

I got in the car, and we followed behind Dernon. While I sat in this really nice car, the man in the front passenger seat turned around and then said to me, I never got a chance to thank you and your family for bringing us all that stuff out of your city over the past years. It was then that I recognized him, the short Italian man who actually cared about me not getting hurt. After his henchmen attacked Dernon, he would never say anything to me! Not even good morning.

Well, the man in the passenger seat kept turning around, looking me in the eye, as if he was trying to think of the best way to talk to me without his heavy Italian accent. Finally, he turned back at me and said, You old enough to know what going on now in our family! With all this new radar technology coming out, has caused the ‘family’ to look into the future. The ‘family’ felt that they should consider asking you now! To do that thing you do coming out of your city, you know, that’s just business you do for the ‘family’ because you are part of the ‘family,’ right?

I nodded as to reply with Yes! But a burning fire was raging inside of me. I thought, So these are the ones that are responsible for my miserable life!

The man looked over at the driver and said, Roger is the quietest kid I have ever seen in my entire life! Do you remember how he did not flinch or cry out that day? He frocking looked so bad it reminded me of the old bad habits of our family.

He turned back at me. "You know, Roger, the family does not condone how Dernon frocked you up, especially after the last time we met. The family will not frocking tolerate any mistreatment of its members! You deserve much better frocking treatment than that! The family cannot build up any frocking bad blood between the members, and that includes you too!

What the hell! It is because of members like you! We stopped killing each other, and we became a conglomerate because of kids like you! You need any frocking thing, Roger, or have any frocking desires? All you have to do is just frocking ask! Roger, I mean, you frocking get in to trouble any frocking time, you just tell your mother, Terra, to call me or any frocking body in our family! Your mother knows! We are frocking everywhere because of the things you did!

It’s all about honor and respect! I never repeat myself, but because I am talking to you for the first time, our family is about honor and respect for the family and each other’s business."

I only said Yes, sir as we drove and drove. We finally stopped in the suburbs of another small county, at a double house condo with a walk-in garage. There waiting for me was a new minibike and a new bicycle for Oscar. The short Italian man told us that he had set Mother up with a supervisory position at a big hair, body, and skin product corporation. He even paid the house rent for a whole year and also gave Dernon a lot of money. I thought the bike was great. We were all smiling, and for the first time in my life, I felt some relief! But I was old enough to know that all this came at a big price hanging over my head. I had learned that every little joy given to me in life before it came misery, pain and long suffering. This was the beginning of the cause and effect process, but I like to believe that everything in a person’s life occurs for a reason. I knew that this minibike is nothing more than another new toy, just the bait to get me to return to the big city on a train out of my little city and back to the big city as a drug carrier.

At the sidewalk there was a downhill pavement leading to the garage door. Dernon walked up from the garage door to the sidewalk where we were standing, and as he approached me, I notice that even though he was much bigger in size than I was, I now stood as tall as him and eye to eye. Dernon read it in my eyes that a little dirty fight was brewing between us.

The short man started talking to me again as Dernon stood there listening. He said, Roger, the family is gone to call on you to make another trip out of your little city and return here. We will clear the frocking entire path with all our trusted connections just for you. Until then, Roger. If you ever need any frocking thing, kid,—I mean, if this guy, Dernon, here freaking frock with you like last time… well, let’s not think that way. Right, Dernon? he asked menacingly.

Dernon replied, Yes, sir! I mean, no, sir! I mean, let’s not think that way, sir! Roger and I are going to get along just fine. Right, Roger? Dernon, just then, knew that I had agreed to with this man, but would disagree when that day came.

The short man gave Dernon an evil stare and then looked back at me, said, I live on the west side of your little city. Your mother Terra knows how to get in contact with me on any emergency involving you. And the short Italian man and his friend left us all there.

I was still a freshman when I transferred to another high school in this small suburb. I remember summer being upon us when Mother said, Let’s prepare, we’re going back home to Little Town, our city. I was so happy I called Kevin.

That was also the time that Dernon’s heroin addiction became out of control. Mother was very afraid because, she told me, every day he would come home, beat her, force her to please him, then leave the house, but not before he had taken any money she had and sold just about everything we own; and at last, the minibike passed through his hands before I came home from school.

Mother said that he had spent all the money the short Italian man had given him because he had a $600 weekly addiction. All that was left was four prepaid one-way train tickets back home to Little Town.

One morning, I woke up real early right before school when I heard the strangest moaning sound ever coming from the kitchen. I peeked out of the bedroom and saw Dernon sitting on the floor with his back against the refrigerator door, his right arm waving in the air, and his head moving side to side as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. I could see nothing but the white sockets of his eyeballs.

I saw the tourniquet still tied tightly around is left arm. The syringe sticking out in his arm; the syringe was backed up with blood running down his arm on to the floor. I slowly crept toward him, holding my right arm outward, extending my fingers to reach for the syringe. That’s when I spotted, out of the corner of my left eye, the box of rat poison just beyond the back of the refrigerator. I saw the spoon on the floor; it was still full of heroin. I whispered softly in his ear, calling his name, Dernon, no one will know that it was me that killed you. No one will know, Dernon.

Then I took my fingers to pinch a little poison out of the box. I was just about to sprinkle it over the spoon when I heard Mother’s soft plea. Baby, please! Please don’t do it!

I looked up with an angry eye. Why not? All of this will be over. It will look like he frocked up during an overdose.

Mother said, with running tears, Because I love him!

It was then that I realized that killing Dernon would not destroy anyone but me. I was angry at Mother, Dernon, and at this criminal organization for what they had all done to me. But killing Dernon would make me one of them. Someone has always told me what to do all my life, but