Paper Chasers Page 5

  Everyone looked at each other as if to challenge one another to a fight, but not a sound was heard, which indirectly gave Latiefe permission to continue.

  “We gots to go on a crime spree to get this cash that we need. Then we’re gonna blow up on the drug scene. So again, whoever is down now is down. If you don’t want to be down with this tell me now. But word is bond, when we blow up and if you wasn’t with it from jump, don’t try to hop on the wagon when the getting is good. I mean we’re homeboyz and cool with each other and all of that, but I won’t be trying to hear that!”

  Again, no one said a word. You could hear a pin drop amongst the crew as everyone seemed to be deep in their own thoughts. The silence ratified everyone’s decision to be down with the plan. We were in this thing together.

  Dwight, the Godfather, took over from this point. He discussed tactics.

  “All of us have some type of gun, and we’re gonna need them, with bullets! Get your hands on as many guns as you can because after this crime spree is over we’ll need them for the drug trafficking. We’re also gonna need ski masks, gloves, all that. Y’all know what y’all need to rob with, right?”

  Dwight commanded that since there was ten of us, during our crime spree, each day we were to go out in teams—two teams of three and one of four—rotating amongst ourselves everyday.

  “Monday,” he said, “we’re gonna start our rampage. Monday morning the rampage starts and it won’t end until that following Friday. It has to end by that Friday because by then the cops and detectives will get hip or we’ll slip up and get bagged. Ten Gs y’all! That means a lot of work has to be done! We’re going to be working from sunup to way beyond sundown. From now on we are gonna be a bunch of ruthless hooligans! We can’t care about nothing! If we die in the process, we die! We can’t even care about our own lives! That’s the kind of mind that we have to have. No conscience. But hey, yo, I know y’all know the tricks to this game, or should I go over them? Y’all know the simple things like don’t commit crimes in your own neighborhood. Or, if you’re going to use a stolen car, don’t steal a nice flashy one, and make sure that it has gas in it. And yeah, make sure that it is fast enough to at least outrun the cops if needed.”

  J.P., sounding very insulted, interrupted Dwight.

  “Yeah, yeah, we know all of that. We ain’t stupid!”

  “A’ight,” Dwight said. “Just checking up.”

  “Shouldn’t we keep this crime thing going until Saturday night?” J.P. asked. “That’s the night that we could get the most loot. Saturday night is party night.”

  “No, gotdamit!” Dwight yelled as he banged his fist on the table. “I already told y’all Friday is the last day! Remember, I’m the Godfather! We’re gonna do this my way or no way at all! We need a shorter time frame so y’all will see the urgency and work harder toward what it is that we’re after.”

  “Now, anybody else got something to say?” Dwight asked after a short pause.

  Silence swept across the room.

  “Well then,” Dwight replied to the silence, “let’s bounce.”

  Latiefe informed us that we had the rest of the weekend to think about what we were getting ourselves into. He then added that Monday was showtime.

  “Monday morning at seven thirty we’ll all meet up in front of Kwame’s crib and take off from there. A’ight?”

  “A’ight,” the crew responded.

  “A’ight, let’s be Audi five thousand,” Latiefe finished.

  Dwight interrupted our exit from the restaurant.

  “Oh yo, next Saturday we’re having breakfast at the McDonald’s near our block over in Rosedale. By then, we’ll have the loot. And we’ll need to lay down the solid plan about the drug distribution scenario. A’ight. Yo, Earl, go call a cab.”

  “Yeah, a’ight, Dee,” Earl replied.

  Stick-up

  When I know that I have to wake up early for something, I prepare myself. I tend not to sleep as hard as I normally do. A light sleeper, that’s what I become. The Sunday before the crime spree, I didn’t really sleep at all because I knew that soon it would be Monday morning and our crime wave would begin.

  Yeah, I was up early that Monday morning. I woke up at about six-thirty. I took a shower, got dressed, and waited for the phone to ring. My nerves were running rampant. I felt like I was going to a new job for the first time. I guess I felt that way because that morning marked my first day on the job as a stick-up kid. Yeah, I knew that would make my parents proud, I thought sarcastically.

  What was it that made me stop chasing those dreams of becoming a stockbroker or a doctor? At least those professions didn’t have a guilty conscience or a jail sentence attached to them. Stick-up kid, now that profession had many negatives associated with it.

  My palms were sweaty and my heart was beating a little faster than normal. The picture of Jesus Christ that was on my desk seemed as if it was watching my every move. I glanced at the picture, then I quickly glanced away from it. But it seemed as if something magnetic made my eyes lock into that picture.

  My palms continued to sweat. In the background the telephone rang and it startled me. It sounded more like a fire alarm. The ring scared the hell out of me. I was really beginning to think that I was paranoid.

  “Hello,” I answered shakily.

  “Yo, Holz, it’s Kwame. Man, you ready?”

  “Yeah . . . um, I’m ready.”

  “So come down to my crib right now.”

  “A’ight . . . I’m coming.”

  I slipped on my black Nike Airs. Then I reached my hand under my bed until I got ahold of a metal, silver-gray box. After opening the box I reached in and pulled out a black 9 mm handgun. I inserted a clip into the gun and I proceeded to place the gun on my bed. I thought about bringing my .22 automatic, but I decided against it because it was too small and un-intimidating. I put the box, which was full of back-up ammunition, back underneath my bed.

  That picture of Jesus kept following me. I tried to ignore it and I grabbed my gun and my ski mask. I tucked the ski mask into my back pocket, stuffed the nine into the front of my pants, and pulled my shirt over it to cover the bulge. Before I left my house I said, “Lord, please watch over us, please.”

  Randy and I were leaving our houses at the exact same time. As we walked to Kwame’s crib we saw that everybody was already outside and waiting. By then it was 7:30 A.M. When Randy and I reached Kwame’s gate, Dwight didn’t waste any time. Without giving us a pound or asking what’s up, Dwight immediately started to give out instructions.

  “A’ight, this is how we’re gonna do this. Me, Wiggie, and Holz are going together. We’ll be FC1. Kwame, Latiefe, and Donnie, y’all go together, and y’all will be FC2. Randy, Earl, J.P., and Erik, y’all four will be with one another, and y’all will be FC3.”

  Dwight reminded us to stay out of Laurelton and Rosedale. For one, we lived in Laurelton, and the town of Rosedale was too close to our neighborhood.

  “Yo, we gots to go out to Long Island ’cause that’s where the money is at,” Dwight told us. “If y’all do stay in Queens, make sure that y’all go to towns like Bayside, or Rego Park, places like that—the white areas. But remember try not to stay too long in white neighborhoods ’cause we’ll stick out like an aroused penis in a pair of swimming trunks.”

  We all started to walk toward Rosedale. Latiefe guided us to the Long Island Railroad. The LIRR stopped in Rosedale to take passengers either into the city or in the opposite direction which was further out east on Long Island. At the Rosedale stop on the LIRR there was a tremendous parking lot. Every morning commuters would drive their cars to the parking lot and board the train. They’d leave their cars in the unattended parking lot until they returned from work.

  Most of those commuters worked in the city. And just like most New Yorkers, the act of parking their cars and taking the train to work was almost an unwanted necessity simply because the city was so congested with cars, leaving drivers who ventured into Manha
ttan with either no place to park or stuck in traffic jams. Stated simply, most commuters found the train much more convenient. Unfortunately for the commuters, we planned to capitalize on that convenience.

  “A’ight, each group pick out a car, and let’s be out,” Latiefe quickly stated once we made it to the parking lot.

  Our three man posse, FC1, picked a Pontiac Grand Am. FC2 picked out a Toyota Celica. FC3 decided to ride in a Pontiac 6000. Like amateurs, we broke the driver’s window of each car, unlocked the doors, got in, popped the ignition and in less than five minutes we had ourselves getaway cars. We knew that the cars wouldn’t be reported stolen until after 6:00 P.M. That’s when the owners of the cars returned from work, but by that time we would have long gotten rid of the car.

  At that point there was no more planning. We had to rely only on our instincts if we wanted to figure out where the members of each separate posse were at during the day, and what exactly they were doing.

  Wiggie was the driver of our car. Dwight sat in the passenger seat and I sat in the back. Of course we had to ride with all of the windows down because the passenger window was broken. That way we wouldn’t look suspicious. Out of habit, or some type of unwritten street law, brothas always tried to look cool when they rode around. Yes, even in the stolen car we tried to look cool. Both of the front seats were reclined all the way back. All three of us sat slumped down, as if we didn’t have backbones, but that’s how you did it if you wanted to mac.

  Dwight asked us where we wanted to go. I suggested that we head out to Freeport, so that’s where we went. Freeport is a middle class neighborhood in Long Island.

  It was bugged, because from the moment that we’d left from in front of Kwame’s house and walked toward the train station’s parking lot, we didn’t talk at all to one another. No one said “peep.” What was also unusual was the fact that none of us was in a joking mood. Although I sensed fear in the hearts of us all, I just wasn’t man enough to stop the madness. Although I thought that I was acting hard, in essence I was the biggest coward for not speaking out against what we were about to do.

  Fear was still in my heart while the three of us rode in the car toward Freeport. But I knew that I had to transform my mind into that of a psychopath, which meant losing all fear. I silently hoped that everyone else in the crew was also transforming themselves.

  The frame of mind of a psychopath was definitely the mindset that we needed to help us commit crimes. I knew that if I was gonna rob someone, I had to strike total fear into the person’s body. How could I strike fear into someone if I myself was also afraid? There was no way I could have done that.

  I was beginning to psych myself up good. The fear was starting to leave my body. Adrenaline was beginning to work on my brain. Yeah, I was thinking, let me see a punk with some gold on! I was ready, ready to walk up on anybody and convince them by my actions that I was indeed down right crazy. Adrenaline was taking over my mind, soul, and body. I was actually starting to believe I was crazy.

  “Yo! Yo, yo, yo, Wiggie, stop the car. No! No! Drive . . . drive around the block. I got a victim. I got somebody!” I frantically informed.

  Our first robbery was about to take place.

  “Holz, what’s up, man?” Dwight inquired.

  “That automatic bank teller over there, that cash machine. I’ma get somebody coming out.”

  “A’ight,” Dee said as he began to breathe a little heavier. “OK, OK, we’re gonna let you out here and we’ll wait for you right down the block near that bus stop. Just go jack the first cat that you see and then haul your ass back into the car and we’ll be out.”

  “Yeah, OK,” I said. “Let me out.”

  I immediately walked across the street and followed a woman inside the bank. The cash machine wasn’t exactly located inside the bank. Rather, it was portioned off from the main part of the bank where you would go to apply for a loan and stuff like that. I guess it was set up that way to cause less confusion to the customers.

  So I followed the lady as she walked toward the bank. I continued to walk right behind her as she made her way to the ATM. I wouldn’t have been able to gain access to that part of the bank unless I too had an ATM card, which I didn’t, so I had to stick to the lady like glue.

  Once inside I saw a line of about five people. I got on the end of the line and acted as if I were a regular customer. I didn’t know who to rob, but I knew that I had to first wait for somebody to withdraw a good amount of money before I made my move.

  My heart thumped as I nervously waited for the right moment to strike. I was so nervous that I thought I was going to un-psych myself and not follow through with the robbery.

  Man, I wasn’t cut out for this. I was two seconds from bouncing and punking out when an angry voice inside of me tempted me. Holz, just do it!

  I was getting antsy. I noticed this tall, heavyset, white man at the machine taking out money, but I couldn’t see how much money he was getting. That same angry voice inside of me sounded like an attack dog as it whispered into my ear. Holz, get ‘em!

  There I stood, all six feet, 170 pounds of me, scheming on some white dude who looked to be about six-four and 215 pounds. I knew that if I was gonna successfully rob him, I had to get him to respect me, and I had to gain his respect quickly. One thing that I learned from the ’hood was that almost anyone will respect you if they’re in fear of losing their life.

  As the white dude stepped away from the cash machine and was about to open the door to leave, I darted toward him and whipped out my 9mm handgun.

  “Gi’me your damn money! Run the cash right now!” I yelled as I pointed the gun underneath his chin while simultaneously pushing the gun into his skin. My heart was pounding a mile a minute as the victim looked more shocked than he did afraid.

  “What’s . . . what’s going on?” he mumbled as I pressed the gun with my full strength underneath his chin.

  Holz, playtime is over. Hurry up and get this fool’s money and get the hell outta here! As I repositioned the gun to his forehead I screamed at him.

  “Yo, give me all of your got damn money right now or I’ll murder you! Give it up, nowww!”

  As the other customers realized what was going on they began screaming and scrambling, which in turn caused a state of chaos.

  “OK, OK, just don’t kill me,” the white man said in a voice shaking with fear.

  “Did I ask you to talk!? Shut up and give me your money!” I yelled.

  He reached in his pocket and gave me all of his cash and his wallet. I snatched it and burst out of the door like a lightning bolt, heading straight for the car.

  “Come on! Come on! Come on! Come on! Let’s go! Let’s bounce!” I yelled when I reached the car. I jumped in the backseat of the car and continued to yell.

  “Drive! Let’s go! Get outta here!”

  We proceeded to peel off and headed straight for the highway. We were barely a block away from the bank, yet Dwight and Wiggie began interrogating me with questions.

  “Yo, how much you got? Holz, how much did you get?” My heart was still pumping a million gallons of blood per second.

  “I don’t . . . I don’t know . . .” I replied as I gasped for air. “Let me count it. Just let me catch my breath.”

  When I’d finally counted the money I realized that I had made off with 360 dollars.

  “Yes! Yes!” I screamed. “I got 360 dollars from that white cat!”

  “Yo, Holz, you are the man!” Dwight cheerfully exclaimed.

  “No, you the man,” I replied.

  “No, you Da Man,” Dwight said jokingly. “You are da man! My man, big Holz!” We all proceeded to laugh.

  “Yo, how did you rob him that quick?”

  Playing it off as if I was the most hardened criminal in the world, I sucked my teeth and responded.

  “Yo, I just ran up on him, pointed my gun in his face, and told him to run his loot.”

  “Holz, that’s it? That’s all you did?”

&nbs
p; Careful not to mention how terrified I was and how I almost didn’t follow through with the robbery, I continued to play like a fat cat.

  “Yeah, that was it! It was easier than taking candy from a baby. Here, Dee, take this money,” I said as I handed Dwight the dough.

  I then slumped back into the seat of the car. I was beginning to come down from my crazed high and I couldn’t believe what I had just done. I had just robbed someone! But, yo, that’s not what scared me, though. The scary part was what if the man had hesitated one more second? If he had, I would have popped a cap in him, probably killing him. I was also scared ’cause I had made too many mistakes during the robbery.

  That voice in my head that had been sounding angry and tempting me to actually commit the crime, returned to my head, only this time the voice sounded more compassionate. Well, at least you got the first one off your chest, the voice said. I ridiculously nodded my head in agreement with that voice because I knew that there would be many more robberies to come.

  As I sat and tried to play reverse psychology tricks on my conscience, Dwight instructed Wiggie to exit from the highway. We had driven far enough from the first crime scene and we weren’t in any clear and present danger of getting caught. After exiting from the highway we realized that we weren’t too far from our point of destination. We found ourselves in a town called Hempstead, which was located on Long Island. We drove around Hempstead for about twenty minutes just looking for our next victim.

  “Oh, whoa! Look at those honeys over there!” Dwight exclaimed. “Wiggie, hurry up and go catch up to them.”

  Wiggie hastily made a U-turn and pulled up alongside these two fine black females.

  “Excuse me. Hello, hello. How y’all doin’?” Wiggie asked the two young ladies.

  At first the women weren’t too responsive, but before you knew it, Wiggie, with his smooth words, was able to get a conversation going.

  “I’m sayin’, can’t a brotha at least get a hello?” Wiggie asked.

  One of the females seemed turned off by the unwanted attention that they were receiving from us. With an attitude, she twisted her head and spoke.