10 Times Over

By Ted A. Petty Sr.

Ten Times Over

The Plan

Here's a story about a young (nineteen) man (James Hope) and some of his closest friends. James and his friends have been together since they were twelve years old. After graduating high school and putting off college for a couple of years, which turned into not going altogether, they found themselves bored, broke, jobless, and almost out of a place to lay their heads. Until one day, Charles (one of James's friends) had an idea. He wanted to rob the armored truck that ran to the neighborhood grocery store. James and the rest of his friends found this idea to be hilariously stupid and crazy, but Charles was convinced it'll work. Slowly, he changed the mind of all his friends, and they decided it was possible. Now came the day of committing the robbery.

The Hit

On Saturday morning, June 14, 2000, the robbery of the armored truck was committed, grossing the robbers (six of them) more than six hundred thousand dollars. No one was killed, but one of the occupants of the armored vehicle was critically injured, for supposedly not cooperating. No one knew the identity of these robbers, and a five-hundred-thousand-dollar reward was put out immediately for any help in capturing the bandits.

Sworn Vengeance

On July 1, 2001, after two weeks of testimony, James Hope was found guilty on one count of federal armed robbery and sentenced to ten years in the federal prison system. This marked the day that James Hope swore on his life that he would gain revenge on all those who betrayed him. James now had ten years to think about it.

Early Release

On December 18, 2005, just five years into his ten-year sentence, James Hope was released early for good behavior and prison overcrowding. On his first day out, James put into motion a plan he had been working on for almost four and a half years.

Ten Times Over

It took some time, but James came up with a plan to guarantee that all five of his coconspirators got ten times the amount of time he got. All was going well with his plan a year after his early release. All of his friends were in jail, facing charges ranging from murder to capital murder. But what happened next really threw James for an unexpected loop. What could that be? You'll have to read to find out!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781646286300

Book preview

Chapter 1

James

May 19, 2000

8:00 p.m.

Son of a fat cousin of a bitch! Nigga, you serious? I exclaimed before anyone could say anything. All of my friends and I were at Johnny’s house, chilling one night. There were six of us total: Frederick Fred Hamilton, Johnny, Marcus Moe Smith, Desmond Dez Harper, Charles Jackson, and myself. Charles had just finished telling us about his plan for us to rob an armored truck. Everyone was laughing at his dumb ass until I noticed he was for real. And that’s the reason for my previous statement.

Sitting here, watching his fool ass pace the living room all calm and shit was pissing me off. I went in on that ass. Let me get this right, I started somewhat dumbfounded. You want us to help you rob a real-live-in-today-life armored truck? I finished loudly. Mane, come the fuck on? Moe said quietly, which caused Charles to stop and look at him. I knew yo retarded-looking ass was dumber than you looked! Moe added mockingly. Moe moved to our hood in North Dallas ten years ago at the age of nine.

We were living in an area between Forest Lane and Royal Lane in a middle-class neighborhood. Our houses were spread out on about four streets with Johnny and I, living next door to each other. Moe being a shy and quiet kid, it was a full three years before he became friends with us. I was the first one he befriended. Moe really opened up after a while. But his statements were still surprising.

Fred was next to speak before Charles could say anything in his defense. I guess that rusty-ass RG .38 is supposed to keep us safe? he questioned sarcastically while pointing at the snub nose Charles had sat on the table in front of the couch. Fred had been born and raised in our hood. We’d been friends, him, Johnny, and I, since we were in preschool. His parents were always at work, so he tended to be at either Johnny’s or my house all the time. "Robbing a big ass a-r-m-o-r-e-d truck is not part of our life, you stupid muthafucka!" Fred spat, getting serious.

This prompted Dez to speak up before shit got serious. Aye, mane, he started calmly. Let’s just chill and get our heads because this dumbass nigga has to have some logic behind this. He finished while raising his eyebrow at Charles. Dez had been living in the hood eight years with his adoptive parents. Being very outspoken, he linked up with us very quickly. He was the funny man of the clique.

With everyone looking at him expectantly, Charles stopped pacing and faced all of us. Charles had also been in the hood eight years, having moved next door to Dez’s parents’ house shortly before they did. I remember my mother, asking me go to their house on some welcome-to-the-neighborhood shit. Both of us were embarrassed like a muthafucka! Once the introductions were made, he came outside to meet our clique. He’s been around ever since.

Charles

All of these niggas must be crazy! None of us have jobs. It’s been two years since we graduated, and our parents were getting impatient. This is why I decided to tell my boys about my plan I’d spent the past two years, planning and researching different scenarios to ensure we got away. I have a backup for every backup. I’ve planned for worst-case scenario in every aspect of my plan. I looked at Dez appreciatively then began my pitch.

Like I told y’all, I’ve been plotting on this since our senior year. I started and paused. Nobody said anything, so I forged ahead. Y’all have to understand that you are my dawgs, and I had to be sure all bases are covered. I refuse to lose one of y’all behind some dumb shit. I was very sincere on this point. For everybody’s protection, I’ll only tell each person his part. This way, nobody can snitch on anyone else, I said this with a very serious look. I didn’t think anybody would snitch, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Everybody started yelling at once when they saw I was done. Dez, whose voice tends to carry, silenced everyone, Now you dumb muthafuckas know all of us can’t talk at the same time! he said, still yelling until he realized the room had grown quiet. Oh, my bad! he said and started laughing. James, I think you should go first, he said, looking at James. I held my breath and waited for the fireworks. I was not disappointed!

Fred, you must’ve left yo mind at home because you seem to be living in some type of fantasy world right now, he exploded, jumping up off the couch. He wasn’t done either. And y’all sitting here, listening to this asshole, contemplating doing this shit! he accused, flinging his hands at everyone.

Wait a minute, fool, Fred started in his defense. I only listened because Dez asked me to, he continued. So don’t go to pointing yo fat-ass fingers at everybody, he finished. James was looking like he was ready to fight.

"Charles seems to think he’s Martin on Blue Streak or something, Fred said, smiling to himself. This made me laugh and broke some of the tension in the room. Everybody else had some shit to say, but Fred had the floor. He has thought this shit out because nobody goes through this much planning without intending to go through with it. Fred was sounding like he was ready to sign in. I think James’s right though. He killed one with that. But I agree with Dez, too, because all the information Charles has had to take forever to assimilate," he finished.

James was past pissed. He whirled on the only person in the room yet to speak and asked sarcastically, I guess you wanna go all Cleo and shit, too, huh? Johnny just shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and said, It’s not impossible to do, man. Just think about it. James wasn’t having that. He just stared at us all in an intimidating fashion. This was a sight to behold because he was a solid 266 pounds, standing at 6'5". After a few intense seconds, he abruptly stormed outta the room and the front door.

Well, that went about how I envisioned it, I said dejectedly. Johnny offered to holla at James, but I doubted his mind would change. Everyone else left after that. I had an uphill battle on my hands.

Chapter 2

Dez

11:30 p.m.

Just wanted to talk about what you didn’t wanna hear for a minute or two, I said into the phone to James. When he didn’t say anything or hang up, I pushed on, You have to see it how Charles sees it: one, we don’t have jobs; two, we’re broke; three, all of our parents are bitching ’bout college; and four, we broke! I got quiet, too, after that. Before James could say something, I blurted out, Fool, money’s almost more important than food! No money means no ass! He started laughing at that.

Yeah, I know it! Krystal’s been itching to go out every other damn day, James admitted. Momma and the old man’s been hinting about registering for school a whole helluva lot lately, he continued.

That’s why we need to consider what Charles is talking about, I said before he could go on. All of our parents are bitching! Ain’t no argument to that.

Dez, you have some valid points, but I just don’t see it, bruh, he told me seriously, then hung up.

He only wanted me to drive the getaway car. I guess that’s why it seemed so simple to me. I’d be there to ensure that they, Charles and James, got away. I think all of us were the best to be right there. I guess only time will tell.

Johnny

I was headed back home after leaving the store, drinking a Minute Maid orange juice. After our little meeting, I went by Tash’s house to see if I could get a little quickie in before I made it back home. It ended up being a marathon, and I left her house a little after eleven. So I went to Pops and bought the juice to replenish myself.

Who in the fuck are in those cars? I asked myself out loud as a box Chevy full of dudes in dark clothes passed by me with the headlights off. I wouldn’t have seen that if it wasn’t for the streetlight. The car kept on by and turned on the street before the one I lived on. Fuck ’em! I kept on my way. As I turned on the street they went down, I saw the car comin’ my way with the lights still off. Damn, I need to start carrying a gun! I said to myself quietly.

We happened to meet at the next corner. They pulled up and stopped at the stop sign. Ain’t no way in hell I was crossing the street! They turned toward my street, then they pulled off. My spooked ass turned down the street I was on rather than follow them. After walking about thirty yards, I heard a car’s engine rev up, then go quiet. Ten more yards, and I’ll be dammed, there was the same box Chevy, speeding toward me! Shit! Before I could complete another thought, I was suddenly blinded by bright lights.

The car stopped about fifteen feet from where I was. No time for thoughts. Fear took over as I dropped straight to the ground. A millisecond later, World War XI broke out. Whoever those cats were after had to have pissed them off. There was one long ass tasast instead of the familiar tat, tat, tat of a semiautomatic. This shit went on for seemingly ten minutes but was actually about thirty seconds. Then it got eerily quiet.

I heard the revving on the car’s engine and the squealing of tires as the car left the scene. All’s quiet after that, and I can’t see! I can’t see shit! Oh, I had my hands over my eyes! Shit, that was close! Why in the fuck am I still laying on the ground? What the fuck! I screamed frantically as I felt fluid, going down my right arm. I’m hit! I’m hit! Shit! I’m shot! I was yelling at the top of my lungs as I rolled over, checking myself for wounds.

After not feeling any holes, I sniffed my arm and realized the juice I was drinking spilled when I dropped it while diving to the ground. As my breathing returned to normal, and I began to gather my thoughts, I heard a scream I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I needed to get my black ass home.

Angie

PJ, baby, wake up, I pleaded with my son on the couch. We were in the living room, watching TV when the shooting started. My mother, father, son, and myself. I was just telling PJ to sit down because he was standing on the couch when the shots were fired. As I dove for my son, he suddenly laid down as if he knew what was happening. During the entire ordeal, I whispered in his ear, hoping to keep him calm. Surprisingly, this was working, or so I thought.

After it was all over, I started talking to PJ again. See, it’s over now, I cooed soothingly. Then as I was rubbing his back, I noticed his lack of movement and finally rolled him over. "Oh my god! PJ? Oh my… No!" I screamed from the depths of my soul when I saw all of the blood on my three-year-old son’s lifeless body. My son was dead! But my mind wasn’t comprehending this fact. I frantically yelled for my mother to call an ambulance. When I looked at my parents, they were standing together, looking helplessly at me with tears, running down their face.

I fell to the floor and cried, trying to ease a pain that I’d die with. I just couldn’t understand why this happened. This had to be a nightmare! God, wake me up! After this, time wasn’t a concern of mine, but the police showed up with an ambulance on their bumper. By now, I was cradling my deceased son in my arms and rocking him as if to put him to sleep.

Then the moment came when they tried to take him from me, and I held on tighter, then rocked faster. My mother got me to release my son. I answered all of the questions with one word: no. After that, I showered. During this time, I cried until I could shed no more tears, then got out a shirt belonging to PJ and held it to my chest until I fell asleep.

Chapter 3

James

May 20, 2000

What the fuck do you want, calling this early? I huffed into the phone. Johnny had called and woke me up. You heard the shooting last night? he asked, waking me up completely.

"Fool, a deaf muthafucka would’ve heard that shit!’ I exclaimed.

Well, I was there when it went down, he said smugly. This shocked me. He went on to tell me how he ended up there and what happened afterward.

That’s Angela Harris’s house you’re talking about, I told him. "Bet yo ass had