Last Laugh

48

Rahiem Brooks

Prodigy Publishing Group

Philadelphia, PA

ALSO BY RAHIEM BROOKS

Bezel Brother’s Series

Laugh Now

First Laugh (Ebook & Printed in Laugh Now)

Die Later

Last Laugh

Ravonne Lemmelle Mystery Series

Murder in Germantown

Murder in Love Park (Fall 2014)

Con Test: Double Life

Truth, Lies, & Confessions Trilogy (E-book Only)

Pretty Boy Thugs (Spring 2014)

––––––––

CONTRIBUTOR

ARC BOOK CLUB Official Literary Cook Book

Published by Prodigy Publishing Group

Copyright © 2013 by Rahiem Brooks

This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, events, business, organizations, or locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, place, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover and Author Photography by Gregory Goodwin Typesetting: Rahiem Brooks

Editing: Locksie Locks

ISBN 978-1939665041

LCCN on File

All Rights Reserved

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

[December 2013] First Edition

This book is dedicated to my siblings:

Rhonesia

Latasha

Dominique

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ______________________________________________________________

My publishing career would not be possible without Envy Red, Kristofer Clarke, English Ruler, Christopher Fuller, Gregory Goodwin (graphic designer), and Locksie Locks (editor).

Much love and respect,

Rahiem Brooks www.rahiembrooks.com

Last

Laugh

1

PHILADELPHIA, THE PRESENT

Control, code blue. Code blue. Riot in progress, Officer Sanchez yelled into his walkie-talkie. A baseball bat was slammed against the head of an inmate, as Sanchez grabbed his prison yard bullhorn, and yelled into it, Get down on the ground. All inmates down. Now. Faces in the grass.

Roger, Sanchez, the control officer said, and then grabbed the prison intercom. All inmates report to their cells. Attention all officers, we are in lock down mode. Lock down all units.

Fuck. This shit cannot be happening, CO Sanchez said and watched an inmate being hoisted into the air by two other inmates. They slammed him into the ground and blood immediately filled the man’s face. He was then kicked by the prison’s inmate law librarian. That baffled CO Sanchez. Inmate Kareem Bezel was undoubtedly one of the most mannerly and respectful inmates that he had ever encountered. But there he was kicking a man that seemed to be dead.

Other officers ran out into the yard dressed in riot gear and yelled repeatedly for inmates to get down. The inmates not involved had laid out on the ground with their faces and toes in the dirt. Lieutenant Brown looked on in horror. He had enough to do with the daily paperwork to record the prison’s status, and he did not want to report a riot. After a riot, in came the city officials, detectives and a bunch of other people that he didn’t want to brief on what had happened. Here was a situation that he didn’t have any heads up about. Normally, he was prepared for a prison war between the Philadelphia neighborhoods. He was always tipped off by a prison snitch. But this time it was different.

LT Brown to Officer Sanchez, the lieutenant said into his walkie-talkie.

Sanchez. Go, Lieutenant Brown.

Give a warning to those actively engaged in this fight to stop or you will shoot.

Copy, CO Sanchez said, and grabbed the bullhorn. All inmates this is a warning that we will shoot any inmate not in compliance with our order to get down on the ground. I repeat. We will shoot any inmate not in compliance with our order to get down. He put the bullhorn down and wiped his brow. These mutha fucka’s better not stop, he said and unlocked the gun locker. He smiled and raised the tower’s shot gun into the air. He loaded it with bean bag rounds, and prepared to shoot. He had waited long for the chance to gun down an inmate.

The shot gun was designed to be non-lethal and officers had been taught not to shoot the gun in the extremities. A shot to the head could crush an inmate’s nose or break their neck. Even worse, a strike in the chest could send a broken rib crashing into the heart and kill an inmate. That was not the point of the riot rifle. It was designed to gain control of a riot, but CO Sanchez’s day had been screwed up, and he planned to end this deadly if he had control of the outcome.

The prison yard officers managed to gain some control of the yard and most of the inmates from the D-E-F Units had been down on the ground. Kareem Bezel and Bryant Larson were now going blow for blow at the top of the yard.

You two need to get down now, Officer Carson said, and pulled her pepper spray from her waist band.

A band of officers dressed in riot gear had their guns trained on the inmates that complied and was on the ground. A team of nurses had been at the yard doorway awaiting full control so they could go in and assist wounded inmates.

Kareem threw another punch at his attacker and was then hit with a burning sensation to his face. He was sprayed by Officer Carson, but that did not stop him from fighting. He reached out for Larson and wrapped his arms around him and scooped him into the air. He slammed Larson to the ground, while Officer Carson continued to coat him with pepper spray. Both men continued to throw punches and had not been effected by the spray.

Kareem was pulled off his feet by a member of the officer’s goon squad. He kicked Larson as he came up. Kareem was hand cuffed behind his back, and then marched through the yard by two goons.

*   *   *

The jail’s main area was empty because all inmates had been locked down. The House of Corrections had opened in 1874, and was one of six county prisons that housed un-sentenced misdemeanants. It was the only one with a wheel-and-spoke design, first seen with the construction of Eastern State Penitentiary in 1829. A Center Control served as a central rotunda in the middle, which  served as access to six two-tiered cellblocks.

While being chaperoned swiftly through the jail, Kareem was on his tiptoes being pulled with brute force. He was practically floating on the air beneath his feet.

Open up A-block, one of the officers that dragged Kareem said.

The unit was opened and two officers took Kareem to the back of the wing to the shower. A third officer took out a pair of scissors and cut  the inmate’s light blue prison pullover off. His tank top was cut off next. Kareem was then pushed under the water.

What the fuck, man? he said, as the water hit his skin. Take off these cuffs. You got me under water in cuffs. Kareem’s voice was grave and deep. He was angry and prepared to do whatever it took to protect himself from further harm. That meant protecting his self from inmates and prison authorities. But he could do nothing in handcuffs and the burning sensation to his skin thoroughly made him aware of that.

It’s to rinse off the pepper spray, an officer said as Kareem began to shake.

The water is freezing and the spray is now running into my eyes, you jackasses. Un-cuff me. My eyes, he screamed. What the fuck? He jumped in the air a few times. Oh my God, please un-cuff me.

Kareem became afraid. The spray had seeped into his pores, ran into his eyes, and he was cuffed behind his back. His pants were soaked along with his sneakers. He was terrified at that point. He could not see and thought that he was going to be blind.

My eyes, Kareem said. He yelled, as he felt two officers grab him by both arms and pulled him out of the shower. Where are you taking me? he asked. He panicked. My arm is burning. Please don’t grip it so tightly. He was helpless, and for the first time, he truly regretted the feds sticking him in a county jail to control the overcrowded Federal Detention Center (FDC) in downtown Philadelphia. He hated the system and everything that it represented. Sure, he had committed several crimes, and maybe even, he belonged in jail, but he hated it.

He was ushered to the front of the lieutenant’s office and placed inside  an isolation cell. It wasn’t a cell at all. It mirrored a pay phone booth, about 2x2 feet of metal. Kareem heard the door shut and again asked to have the cuffs removed. His request was ignored.

Every move that Kareem made forced him to brush against the metal gates. He remained cuffed behind his back and each time his skin touched the metal it burned. He began to sniff but held his head high to prevent the tears from falling. He was even more afraid. He still had no idea what was going to happen next. The fact that he could not open his eyes and not knowing what was going to happen next caused him to have a panic attack. His back slammed against the cell, and he stood as still as possible. For the first time, in a very long time, Kareem Bezel said a prayer.

2

PHILADELPHIA, AN HOUR LATER

The prison librarian, Judy Butler, walked into the lieutenant’s office and was accosted by three correctional officers and Lt. Brown. She was Kareem Bezel’s boss and information seemed to suggest that she could shed some light on what had transpired on the prison yard. Kareem had a thing for working in the education departments at the two jails that he had been in. He was a bright man, and the educational staff appreciated an inmate that could help lower their work load. While at FDC, he was celled up with Calvin Bradshaw who had given him a lot of insight into the law and legal proceedings. Calvin had even helped Kareem get a job in the FDC library. Kareem used that knowledge to get a job in the HOC library shortly upon him being transferred there.

Good morning, Mrs. Butler. So sorry to disturb your day with this. However, I have to ask you a few questions about Kareem Bezel’s involvement in this morning’s riot, Lieutenant Brown said and frowned. He was a huge man that was built like a professional NBA power forward with neat dreadlocks, and a thick Russian accent. Women found it sexy to hear a man as black as coal sound like a Russian. He was adopted by a white family from Russia whom moved him to Moscow, Russia, then Burbank, California and later to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania to be on the opposite coast.

That’s no problem. I am here to help solve this, and perhaps shed some light on what  happened this morning, Mrs. Butler replied. She folded her arms over her chest and exposed red nail polish that matched her even brighter red lip stick. She was homely, but had a bit of spunk for an older white woman.

Ok, great, the lieutenant said. Apparently this fight is all about a deal gone bad. A drug deal.

I wouldn’t know anything about that, Mrs. Butler said. She then added, "Now, I did intercept a letter, which has been turned into the Security Lieutenant. It seemed to outline a payment schedule with