Corrupt City. Tra Verdejo
down. I’m on Castle Hill and Randall Avenue!” he yelled.
When he got to Cash, real name Michael “Tango” Scott, he was still breathing, but there was blood everywhere. He noticed Tango had been shot a few times in his chest. When they took this undercover assignment, they knew they couldn’t wear a vest. Tears overcame him because he knew his partner’s destiny.
Tango kept mumbling for Lucky to call his wife. “Please call her. I want to hear her voice before I die.”
“You are not going to die. Help is on the way. Hang in there,” Lucky replied, reaching for his cell phone.
Lucky started dialing the number, the phone rang once, and his wife, Tammy, answered. When he went to pass the phone over to Tango, he was already gone. He didn’t know what to do. Should he hang up or tell Tammy what happened? He couldn’t hang up because Tammy knew his phone number.
“Hello,” Lucky said, sounding like a scared little boy.
“Hello, Lucky? That’s you? What’s going on? I hear sirens in the background. Where is Michael? What’s going on, Lucky?”
“Tammy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” a teary Lucky said.
Tammy became hysterical because she knew it only meant two things—he was either in critical condition or dead. “Lucky, goddamn it! Tell me the truth. What happened to my husband? Is he okay? Oh please, God, help me. Please, God.”
“I’m sorry, Tammy, our cover was blown, and Tango, I mean Michael, didn’t make it.”
The phone went dead.
Tammy had yanked the cord from the socket. She was throwing a tantrum at the house. Her twin boys, only eight years old, woke up asking their mother what happened and why she was crying. She was speechless. She didn’t know how to tell them their daddy was never coming home.
Meanwhile, back at the crime scene, Lucky, still in shock, was trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Two questions kept bugging him. How did they know about Tango’s identity? And why was it taking so long for backup to arrive?
Lucky was starting to get a major headache and was feeling weak. He dropped to one knee, and that’s when another cop at the scene noticed Lucky had also been shot. They rushed to his aid and treated his wound on the spot.
He was hit on the side of his stomach, a flesh wound, nothing serious. His adrenaline was running so high, he’d never felt the shot. After a fifteen-minute conversation with his captain, he finally agreed to get in the ambulance and head to the hospital as a precaution.
The Present (2006)
Lucky woke up sweating and out of breath. He was dreaming about the night one of his ex-partners, Tango, was killed three years ago. That was one memory he would carry with him for the rest of his life. Till this day, he suspected it was foul play that led to Tango’s cover being blown.
Today was a big day for Lucky. He turned on the TV and listened to the news reporter, while getting dressed for court.
“Today, June 21, 2006, the biggest case against the State of New York is set to hear the prosecution’s main and last witness, Donald Gibson, a former, fifteen-year veteran police officer, was one of the four officers present the night Perry Coleman, a twenty-five-year-old Black man, was gunned down by the NYPD. The other three officers are all being charged with murder.
“Perry’s case has drawn national attention, and the entire state of New York is behind the Colemans. New Yorkers, already sick and tired of thugs roaming the streets, don’t want to have to worry about these trigger-happy rogue police officers running wild in their community.
“Even the great Minister Al Muhammad has joined the family and their legal team. We all know the minister’s reputation for bringing attention to police brutality cases.
“Today, the jury will hear the shocking testimony of Mr. Gibson, where he indicates Perry Coleman was murdered on the night in question for no apparent reason. The courtroom will be filled with supporters, police officers, and politicians. Everyone is anticipating what will take place today.
“Rumors are circulating that Donald has been hiding under his own protection, without the help of the government, because he knows how crooked the system has become. In another forty-five minutes, we will finally hear what happened the night Perry Coleman was murdered. I’m Destine Diaz, live from the courthouse, Channel 5 News.”
Those three officers were confident the charges would be dropped until Donald “Lucky” Gibson re-appeared and agreed to testify.
Meanwhile, it was pandemonium outside the courthouse. There were news stations parked everywhere, and reporters were interviewing anyone who wanted to get in front of a camera. The crowd was asking the same questions over and over. “Will this be the case that will rock the state of New York and shine the spotlight on police brutality? How many more innocent bodies need to drop? Better yet, how many more minority bodies need to drop?”
Inside the courtroom, there were barely any seats available. The NYPD tried to take up most of the seats to prevent supporters and protesters from entering the courtroom. Court officers had to ask police officers to move to the right side of the courtroom or exit.
Police officers were not happy, and some even argued their point. The police department knew their future relied on the verdict of this case. Though the evidence against these three cops was not in their favor, they strongly supported their own. The cops involved were all suspended with pay, which was nothing but a paid vacation.
The people demanded more severe punishment, not a slap on the wrist. However, Mayor Ralph Gulliano and Police Commissioner Brandon Fratt made it their business to point out that Perry Coleman had a criminal record on file and the people shouldn’t rush to judge and crucify these officers who were doing their job. Both the mayor and police commissioner received harsh criticisms for their stance. Blacks and Hispanics were not shocked, because the lack of support in their communities had always been evident.
The mayor tried to smear Perry’s image. Perry Coleman had been working at the same job since he was nineteen years old and had no record of felonies or misdemeanors. They were referring to a juvenile robbery charge. Perry and a few of his high school friends got caught running out of a store with jewelry when he was fourteen years old. Part of his plea bargain was that his record would be sealed, which meant closed, and would never resurface again, after he completed eighteen months of probation. But the following night after Perry was killed, newspapers were already printing stories about his juvenile record, hoping the court of opinion would at least convict him of being a thug.
The public didn’t care about what he did when he was fourteen. He turned out to be a good human being and role model to others. Perry was a manager at a furniture store and was a year away from earning his bachelor’s degree in business communication. He was survived by his wife, Kim Blackburn Coleman, and their three-year-old son, Perry Coleman III. Perry’s family promised that his name would never be forgotten and that his story would be told across the world.
Perry’s mother, Laura, said it the best. “You can’t change destiny, but you sure can change your life. My son is a prime example that one mistake shouldn’t ruin your future. Perry was a great son, father, and husband. He worked extremely hard to stay positive and keep his family happy. Now, because of racist, trigger-happy cops, my son is no longer alive. We will carry the torch from here and educate the world, not just on police brutality, but on racism as well, because it’s still alive in our communities, in our everyday lives.”
Chapter Two
Lucky’s Testimony
Around 8:15 a.m., the judge, who had a reputation for handing out harsh sentences, walked out of his chambers. He was six feet, five inches tall and weighed about two-sixty. His white beard matched his old, white, long hair. He barely smiled in a courtroom. A lot of protesters were against him hearing the case because he was rumored to be a racist, and Perry’s family was concerned they wouldn’t get a fair trial.
“All