The Diamond Syndicate

TWENTY-SIX

Preacher

Dante lay on his cot looking up at the ceiling, his hands resting behind his head.

His roommate, Preacher, was reading a book. He looked over the top of the book at Dante. The older man, sporting a long salt-and-pepper beard with long salt-and-pepper dreads, scratched the top of his head and put down his book. “Tell me what’s on your mind, young brother,” Preacher said.

Dante looked over at the man and then back at the ceiling, not saying a word.

“OK.” Preacher then picked up his book and resumed reading.

“I think they gonna throw the book at me,” Dante said, not looking at him.

Preacher looked over the book at him. He lowered the book again, placing it on his lap. He waited patiently before speaking, in case Dante had more to say, but Dante remained silent.

“Why do you think they’re gonna throw the book at you?”

“Because I know my mother.”

“What do you mean? Your mother is being charged with murder too.”

“Somebody can testify and say I did it.”

“Dante, they have to prove that you committed the murder before they can convict you.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” Dante placed his hands over his face. It just seemed as if everything was against him, and he felt alone.

“Have some faith in your attorneys, young brother.”

“You don’t understand. They’ve been working on my mother’s part of the case.”

“OK. So what are you worried about? I’m not understanding you.”

Dante sat up and swung his feet to the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked at the floor. “My mother is gonna make sure that they get her off. She has no concern for me and what I’m facing,” he said, finally looking over at Preacher.

Preacher leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees as well. “Listen, young brother, what you need to do is be honest with the attorneys you got. Tell them everything that happened, tell them everything you didn’t tell them. They don’t need any secrets. You have to trust them. After all, you’re paying them to defend you.”

“My mother would lose it if I told them everything.”

Preacher studied Dante’s face and could see a young man holding on to a lot of stress. He knew from experience what that look was all about. He too held on to stress, but was working on releasing it through reading and meditating.

Preacher was from the old school and grew up in a time when racism was at its finest. He wasn’t a violent man but was in and out of jail most of his life because he had a problem with the way authorities threw their weight around and bullied the innocent. He always found himself in handcuffs because he believed in freedom of speech. It just so happened that, every time he used his right to free speech, it was at the wrong time and the wrong place, causing him to get arrested for petty misdemeanors here and there.

This time was no different. He’d organized a rally against police brutality in front of the police station in downtown Newark. He was cited and warned on several occasions during his demonstration for not having a permit. Finally the police arrested him, and the judge, having had enough of seeing his face, gave him six months in county. Doing time came easy for Preacher because it gave him more time to read and meditate on his next project.

He liked talking to Dante. It was a way of putting his mentoring and teaching skills to use. Soon after first talking to Dante, he realized that Diamond had a strong hold on his mind, something he challenged himself to break.

“Let me break it down to you, son,” Preacher said as he got up and sat next to Dante on his cot.

He held a letter in his hand that he had received from his father many, many years ago. The paper had turned yellow from age. Carefully he unfolded the delicate, tattered letter and held it out in front of him, so Dante could read along with him. He had two sentences underlined in the letter.

“A mother can only nurse you and show you unconditional love. But showing you how to be a man can only come from a man, your father,” Preacher read out loud.

“You never really got a chance to know your father,” Preacher said, “so your mother had to be your father and your mother, but that does not make her capable of showing you how to be a man. From what I see, your mother has been successful in turning you into her slave.”

Dante looked at Preacher with hate-filled eyes.

“Hold on now, young brother. Hear me out before you get on the defense for your mother.” Preacher held up his hand. “I know that’s your mother, and she has been the only person to raise you and care for you, but I want you to take a look at your life and reflect on how it has gone up until now.”