Silent King

By Jimmy Jones

Don't let the bright lights of the Sears Tower fool you. This is Englewood, Chicago, known to most as "Chiraq," an infested gangland captured under the thumb of a vicious dictatorship. Unlike any other major city, the control of the streets doesn't lie in the conniving hands of the city's top cops or politicians.

In plain view, the city is controlled by the iron fist of over two hundred thousand religiously dedicated Gangster Disciples, BDs, Vice Lords, and Black P. Stones.

Only the people of high society who reside in the downtown area are barely safe. But within the surrounding districts, suicidal pawns dominate their gang territories, not using common sense but reverting to assault rifles to settle their different views and disagreements, causing the citizens of Chicago to live in constant fear.

There in the midst of the gang infestation stood a young, curious, and malleable ten-year-old Englewood kid named Jimmy, better known as Jay.

Once left behind by his family, feeling abandoned, Jay took to the allure of the "street life," opposed to the golden teachings and directions of his stern father.

No longer exhausting his mental energy behind unanswered questions like "Why my momma leave me?" with his mind made up, along with a grudge and a chip on his shoulder, Jay, with high street ambition, set out to be King of a world that assured only one thing: all kings eventually wake up with their heads cut off!

This is the unflattering true story of Jimmy Jones Jr.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 12, 2018
• ISBN: 9781684090327

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Dedication

With a heavy heart, I dedicate Silent King to the following few:

My beloved parents, Jimmy Sr. and Jolene Reed, may you now realize your valuable teachings were never in vain.

To my friend, my brother Lennar Jackson, as warriors drenched in blood, we overcame (together.)

To my sunshine of a daughter, Tasje Jones, thank you for never holding my absence against me. Remember creativity and leadership exist in your bloodline.

To all who no longer believed in me, you left me stranded because you assumed I was no longer. Thank you! You were the free rocket fuel that drove me to success.

I thank God for allowing me to live long enough to pen Silent King. Nonetheless, if Silent King is my last granted breath, my last granted words, my last stand, I depart as a redeemed man who came, saw, and conquered my desires there, so I lie to rest a satisfied king.

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An Englewood, Chicago, Tale

Some names, locations, and events were changed to protect the guilty.

Based on a True Story

Part I

Silent Scream of a King

Chapter 1

A young hardheaded ten-year-old kid I was, with three older sisters who loved me dearly. Growing up in my household with both of my parents was a true blessing. Still, growing up with three sisters and no brothers was the hardest part of life for me. On a daily basis, I was forced to entertain myself. My sisters always teamed up and did girly things that I never wanted to be a part of. However, when they did nonfeminine activities, they never wanted to involve me inside their little circle. Therefore, growing up at home, most of my time was either spent playing alone, watching my father do construction, or spending time with my mother inside her beauty shop.

From the ages of one through ten, I considered my mother my best friend. She catered to all my needs, even my selfish ones. Day in and day out, my mother was my everyday problem solver; she had an answer for everything.

When I was a child, my mother rarely gave me beatings for two reasons: one, she thought I could do no wrong, and two, when I did do wrong, she could never catch me, and if she did, I would run to this specific spot under my sisters’ bunk bed. Then and there I would wait her out, and after an hour of hiding, my mother would forget. So from that point, I always became a freeman.

My father has always been in my life but wasn’t home much during the week. He worked double shifts, sixteen hours a day, and brought home very nice money. In the late eighties and early nineties, we were considered not wealthy but well-off. Even though we lived in the hood, times never felt bad because of my hardworking father.

At dinner time we all sat around the table like a happy family (at least I thought at the time). Every night I would sit next to my friend, which was none other than my mother, who would always give me extra pop if I asked. She would cut my food just how I liked it, and if I didn’t want my carrots, my mother would never make me eat them.

When I went outside to play with the kids around the way, I would always think about my real friend, my real love, my mother. She was the only lady I knew for sure would never cross me, would never leave me, and the one I knew would never put anyone before her son.

My mom loved her only son a lot, and the day I realized that, I began to use it for my personal gain. At the end of the week, my mother would always go out and do her weekend shopping, which I never wanted to miss. My mother had a very hard time telling me no. Therefore, when we went out shopping, I was guaranteed something new from shoes to clothing to a video game and something good to eat.

Day in and day out, my mother was all I knew, yet and still, I was okay with that. I loved her and she loved me. At ten years old, I never thought how life would be without my mother because I had no reason to. I thought she would always be there. I knew that without my mother, I would just die—until the day my whole life changed.

My father had just moved us on Sixty-Sixth and Wood Street into a big five-bedroom and two-bathroom house. We lived only five blocks away from the apartment we had just moved out of; however, we still lived in the slums of Englewood.

One day my parents called my sisters and me into their bedroom to talk. As I walked into the room, I noticed my mother’s eyes were bloodshot red from crying. I went right to her and put my head under her arm. I was about to ask my mother why she was crying, but my father cut me off and told me and my sisters to take a seat. Immediately I knew something had to be wrong.

When my mother began to speak, she spoke in a way that sounded like she was holding herself from breaking down. Now y’all know I love each and every one of you with all my heart. And please know we are a family and will always be family. But remember I told you all about death? And that it’s a part of life, right? That means sometimes families have to break up by force. But I have to tell you all what’s going on because I need you to be aware before—

My mother broke down in tears as my father rubbed and patted her back; she couldn’t even finish her words. At that point none of us knew what the problem was, but a tear fell from my eye because I felt my mother’s pain. As I looked around, everyone was crying even though my sisters and I still didn’t understand. My mother tried her best to speak through her tears as she told me that she needed me to be a man no matter what happened.

At that time I was only ten years old; I knew nothing about being a man. And what did she mean by no matter what happens? The words she then spoke hurt my soul so bad, it changed my life for the worse.

I need ya’ll to know I’m very sick on the inside. The doctors told me that I have cancer and that I don’t have long to live.

Chapter 2

From that day on, after my mother announced her heart-stopping news to the family, my household was never the same. No laughs, no smiles, just silent, lonely tears with gentle stares at each other.

The doctors told my mother that she could go home and continue to live out her life with her family, but the cancer would spread rapidly into the remainder of her body within a short span of time, which would eventually lead to her death. The second choice presented to my mother was to have surgery and have the cancer removed. The repercussions behind the surgery were not good for my mother. The odds were against her; she had a better chance of dying once they put her to sleep than she did of actually waking up cancer free. Once my mother told us the ins and outs, my sisters and I all felt that my mother shouldn’t have the surgery. Yet and still, my mother only had one week to inform the doctors about what she wanted to do.

A few days passed, and my father was the only one who was still strong as a rock. He let my mother know that whatever decision that she felt mentally comfortable to take, he would be there for her 100 percent.

Now as I think back, I know my father was hurting dearly on the inside. Nevertheless, he still stood strong. He never broke down—well, at least not in front of us. My father was determined to be the king he had always been qualified as. I guess he was just living up to the vows they both exchanged once they got married—through thick or thin, richer or poorer, and sickness or health.

My father always told me that a man should always stand firm no matter the situation that he was forced to be involved in. By my father demonstrating his strength, leadership, and discipline at a time in all of our lives where things couldn’t get any worse, from him not deteriorating in the situation, he showed me that he wasn’t just a talker; he was a doer. My father lived by it, and he was and still is willing to die for anything he has preached out of his mouth.

As my family sat around, it was the last day my mother had to make her decision. She sat us all down and began to speak.

I love all of you with all my heart, and I put no one on this earth before y’all except the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, who is the head of my life. I’m putting my faith in the Lord because it is not his plan for me to die and leave y’all now. That’s the devil’s plan and I won’t give in to it. Remember faith without works is dead. I just can’t give up on y’all that easy. I made up my mind—I’m going to have the surgery and the operation is next week.

The room went very still, cold, uncomfortable, and silent—so silent that it was like I could hear the tear that rolled down my father’s face.

Chapter 3

There was only one day left until my mother’s surgery. That whole week was more of a countdown that we all were afraid to witness the end of.

It was a rainy Thursday morning. My father and three sisters had left for work and school. My mother and I were the only ones who still remained at home. As I got out of the bed, something told me to ask my mother if I could stay home from school because I wanted to spend some extra time with her alone. From the look on my mother’s face, she wanted to tell me no but was reluctant about what her own mind was telling her; she told me yes.

A few hours passed, and it was now 11:00 a.m. As I sat in front of the TV and ate my breakfast, my mother cleaned and washed the entire house until there was nothing left she could possibly clean. My mother had a very pale and dull look to her face and had bloodshot eyes, which was nothing new from the prior month, but this particular day, it was something different. My mother walked into the living room as I sat on the floor. She stood there and stared at me for a moment before she spoke.

Baby, I’m going down to the basement to wash some clothes. You keep on watching TV, okay? She waited for me to say Okay, Momma as we both made eye contact right before she closed the door behind herself to the basement.

I thought nothing of my mother’s request, so I continued to watch TV. About twenty minutes had passed and I didn’t hear any movement downstairs in the basement—no washer, no dryer, no sound of my mother, just silence. Something told me to walk downstairs in the basement because something wasn’t right. I got up and opened the basement door slowly and still didn’t hear anything. As I started to walk down the stairs, I saw my mother walking in circles, crying and talking to herself. My mother didn’t see me as I walked closer, but I saw something small and shiny in her right hand. As I got closer, she spotted me and jumped at the sight of my presence. My mother tried to hide what was in her hand. She balled her hand into a fist to hide what she had in her hand. As my mother spoke with tears in her eyes, she brokenly said, I thought I told you to stay upstairs, Jimmy. What is it that you want?

I was lost for words; I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t know why my mother was crying. I didn’t know what the small shiny piece of steel my mother had in her hand was. I didn’t even know why I came in the basement. I just didn’t understand. My mother and I just stood there and stared at one another. As I walked closer, something told me to give my mother a hug. I just came to give you a hug, Momma, and tell you something. Once I walked toward my mother, she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a tight hug and didn’t let go.

Momma, everything going to be okay. I love you, and you know what, Momma?

She answered back, What baby?

God said he loves you too. My mother began to hold me tighter as she wept and cried. She then told me that she loved both of us too and that we were going to get through this tomorrow because God was on our side.

Now that I’m older and I’m able to analyze my life, I’ve come to the conclusion that on that particular day, my mother had a razor blade in her hand! She was about to commit suicide before I walked downstairs in the basement that day.

Over the years I’ve learned that God works twenty-four hours and that he never leaves his children alone even in their darkest hour. That’s why I stayed home from school, that’s why I got up from the TV and walked downstairs, that’s why the words of love came out of my mouth that day—because God is real.

Chapter 4

One of the hardest things in my life that I had to overcome was saying good-bye to my mother. The time that my family and I all feared had finally come.

It was about 6:00 a.m. on a Friday morning when we all arrived at the Downtown Chicago hospital. My father, my mother, my three sisters, my aunt, and myself all sat in the hospital waiting room in silence. My Aunt Hilda was and still is my most loved and favorite aunt. I love all of my aunties, but my Auntie Hilda was much closer to my sisters and me than my other aunts, so I guess that’s the reason. Plus on birthdays and on Christmas, my Auntie Hilda would always buy us presents, so she was the chosen one.

My auntie broke the silence with a crazy outbursts. Do anyone want some gum? My mother laughed at her offering. It seemed to put one last happy smile on all of our faces as a family. As we laughed and began to talk, the doctor walked in, and his presence brought a cold chill over everybody’s soul. The room went silent as the doctor called my mother’s name, Jolene Jones. She answered with a humble Yes. The doctor told my mother that they were ready for surgery and asked if she was ready. My mother answered again with a soft Yes. He then said, I’ll give you five more minutes to say good-bye to your family. As the doctor walked out of the room, I started to cry because the time had come for me to say good-bye to my mother. I knew in my heart that this was a very bad decision that my mother was making.

At the time I felt this would be the last time I hugged, kissed, or even talked to my mother. The more that thought ran through my mind, the more the tears flowed. As I looked around the room, I saw tears drop from my sisters’ faces as well. My father, my mother, and my aunt were all solid. As my mother began to speak, she wiped my face and said, Don’t cry, Jimmy. There is no reason to. God is in control of all things, and he is on our side. The doctor re-entered the room, and my mother saw that it was time to go. She asked us all to get up and give her a hug, and by choice, I was the last. As I walked toward my mother, she began to smile; she bent down and told me that she loved me and that she needed me to be strong for her. I responded as tears rolled down my face, Okay, Momma, I am.

My mother held me for about thirty more seconds very firmly. The doctor spoke. It’s time, Mrs. Jones. As I said good-bye, my mother stopped me in the middle of my sentence and said, "Never use the word good-bye. That means you’ll never see that particular person again, and you will see me again, okay! I want you to remember that, baby, I love you and I will see you later. I told her the same as she wiped away my tears. She then told me, Remember God loves us, okay?" Then and there, my mother turned and walked out the room as we all sat in the waiting room in complete silence. At that particular moment, I knew that would be the last time I would ever talk to my mother again.

Around the fourteenth hour, we all were asleep, except my father—he sat with both eyes wide open as we all fell asleep in our chairs. The doctor walked in and said, Jones family. We all jumped up in anticipation. He then said, The surgery was an unbelievable success. Mrs. Jones has successfully made it through. Your mother is going to be okay. Even I can’t believe it. We all jumped in joy, which was a very blissful moment for the Jones family.

Little did we all know that that would be our last for a very long time. The beginning of the end, of the hurt and pain. We thought it was over, but it had just begun.

Chapter 5

My mother was finally back home, and from there I was 100 percent positive that everything would go back to normal. My mother was okay, but she was lethargic in everything she did. She moved really slow and stayed in the bed most of the day. The doctor had to amputate one of my mother’s breasts because that’s where the cancer started. They caught it in time before it spreaded, so the amputation cleared her of all cancer indications. I was just happy because it was all over and my mother was back home. In my mind I thought we were going to bounce back and be the big happy family we once were. But now as I look back, I can easily say I was a big dreamer of things that would never come true.

My father owned two buildings located on Sixty-Sixth and Ashland. They were both constructed next to each other. The first building was bought only for a dollar, through a friendship my mother generated through the first owner. They sold the building so cheap because every year, when the Bulls would win the championship, looters would rob the convenience store on the first floor and then set the whole place on fire. This happened for three years in a row. I guess the owners got fed up with repairing the building every year. So they packed all their things up, sold the burned building to my father for a dollar, and moved back to Mississippi.

The second building my father owned, he bought it with the profits he made from the liquor store he once owned on the West Side of Chicago. He built a beauty shop for my mother on the first floor, and before we moved into our new house, all six members of my family lived on the second floor in a two-bedroom apartment. But since we no longer lived on top of the beauty shop, my father would get extremely mad at my mother because she allowed her beauty shop to become an all-night social club for women. My mother would be in her shop to the late hours of the morning. Sometimes it would be like 4:00 a.m. before she came home, and my father didn’t like that at all.

Ever since I was five years old, at night I would hear my mother and father arguing in their room as I listened from the couch, which was also known as my bedroom. In the morning I would see my mother’s eyes were bloodshot red and swollen. As actual and blunt as it was, I never thought my father was literally hitting my mother because I never bore witness with my own eyes. Plus my mother did such a good job of hiding and lying to me when I would ask her What’s wrong? That’s why I never knew the truth until I got older.

My mother developed two friends. One became my godmother Dorothy, and the other became my play aunt by the name of Adriane. Adriane had only one child, and her name was Adriane as well. Her nickname was Boo, and Boo was two years older than I was. Adriane and Boo came over to the beauty shop every weekend. Adriane would get her hair done while Boo and I would go outside and play together. Over five years of consistent visits, Boo and I became very close friends; we did everything together. She is one person that I could never forget.

I remember this one particular day Boo and her mom came over to the beauty shop. I was there because I knew Boo was coming over. We went out back to play, and I asked Boo if she wanted some ice cream. She immediately said Yeah, so I told her that it was a new store that just opened up across the street, and they sold all kinds of new ice cream. Boo was down, like always. We went back into the my mother’s shop, and I asked her if I could have five dollars to get myself some ice cream, and with the rest of the change, I was going to buy Boo some ice cream too. My mother granted my wish and gave me the money and deliberately told us to cross at the light.

Ashland was a very big street, but us being the bad kids that we were, as soon as I received the five bucks, the next thing I knew, we were jaywalking across the middle of Ashland, hauling tail as quick as we possibly could to the ice cream shop. (Like they say, kids gone be kids.) On our way back, we both held up two double-scoop cones, with three scoops of ice cream on each cone. As we ran back through the middle of the street, a car was coming close, so we really had to put some nitro into our legs. As we ran top speed across the avenue, Boo dropped one of her three ice cream scoops in the middle of the street. When we made it to the front door of the beauty shop, we both noticed that Boo had only two scoops of ice cream remaining. Boo was very disappointed; I saw it in her face. Boo then said, Jimmy, I dropped my ice cream. I told her that it was okay, and with my dirty bare hand, I grabbed my third scoop of ice cream off the top, and I put it directly on top of Boo’s ice cream cone.

She looked up at me and gave me the biggest smile ever as she said thank you. Even though my hand wasn’t the cleanest thing in town, Boo instantly started licking her ice cream. That’s why I liked Boo so much; she was different. She was like one of the guys. You can say she was something like my first girl that was actually a friend. For that reason alone, I will always remember my first female friend, Boo.

My father really disliked both of my mother’s two friends because they both were going through ups and downs with their husbands at the time. So I guess my father thought they were in my mother’s ear, sending subliminal messages, telling her to leave him. When my mother would ask if she could go out with her two friends, my father would never let her go. I would always hear them bickering late at night. My father would hit my mother and make her stand in the corner like a child. Even though I had never seen this, I later found out everything. Now that I think back, my father would win their fights all the time. If you’re pondering how I know, well, I never saw my father with a black or puffy eye.

After a seven–year-long friendship, one day Boo and her mother just stopped coming to visit. It hurt me when Boo and I couldn’t play, eat, or laugh together anymore. Over the years, she had actually became a part of me. Yet and still, I always kept Boo close to my heart once she left because I knew one day she would walk back into my life when she became able to make her own decisions. Until then, I promised myself I would always keep an empty spot in my heart for the return of my first female friend, Boo.

Boo was the first to walk out of my life, but she was far from the last.

Chapter 6

Even though my mother was home and back on her feet, I would have these nightmares about her death. In the vision of my dream, I would be attending my mother’s funeral. What really brought heartache and tears to the dreams was that I would be waiting in line to view an unknown body. Even though I’ve had this same dream numerous times, I never knew it would be my mother’s dead body I would have to face once I made it to the front of the line—that’s why the dream felt brand-new every night.

I believe that when my mother told our family she had cancer and she didn’t have long to live, that right there was what messed up my whole understanding of life. It’s different when you wake up in the morning and find out someone you love has passed away. You weep and cry. Then sooner or later, you learn to deal with the loss and accept for a fact that they’re gone.

Now when the person you love sits in your face and tells you they’re about to