Gate Wide Open by M. T. Pope Page B

really hadn’t seen him in the ten years they had been separated.
    I told my mom to go stand in the hallway and wait until I got there. I stayed around just to get a better look at the crime scene. Being a criminal lawyer, I knew a little about what to look for in a crime scene.
    I was interrupted by the phone ringing. Ring, ring, ring!
    â€œHello,” I said, wondering who was calling for my father.
    â€œHey, Shawn,” James said with glee in his voice “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect to hear from you. Especially at your father’s house.”
    â€œMuthafucka, you ain’t gonna get away with this shit, you hear me!”
    â€œShawn, baby, what are you talking about?” he said, confusion in his voice.
    James was playing dumb, and I knew it.
    â€œLook, bastard, stop calling me baby. And you know what the fuck I’m talking about, bitch.”
    â€œShawn, I’m not going to be too many more of your bitches, okay,” he said, losing his cool as well. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
    â€œMy father is dead, muthafucka, and I know you had something to do with it.” I was heated, but not about my father’s death. It seemed like whenever this bastard popped up, he brought some drama with him, and I was simply tired of his shit.
    â€œWhat?” he said, like this was the first he had heard of this news. “Your father ain’t dead. I was just with him the other day. And, besides, I would have heard about it because…”
    â€œJames, why would I be lying about some serious shit like this?” I was now pacing the living room floor with one of my hands on my hip. “So you saying you didn’t have anything to do with my father’s death?”
    â€œShawn, you ain’t talking to no damn dummy. I would have to be one stupid ass to be calling the house of a man that I murdered. Give me some kind of credit. Damn!”
    â€œAll I am saying is, you better have a solid-ass alibi for last night, because I will be sure to mention your name to the police.” I was now smiling because I knew I had him where I wanted him, for a change. He wasn’t talking, but I was sure he was searching his mind for one that I knew he didn’t have.
    â€œOh, believe me, I do,” he said with confidence. “And the next time we talk, please be ready to apologize.”
    â€œWhatever, man.”
    â€œWhatever too, Shawn!” he snapped back. “Do whatever! Just spell my name right, bitch!” Click!
    I was steaming mad, but nevertheless, I exited my father’s apartment, consoled my mom once again, and then we made our way down to the car so I could drive her home.
    â€œYou okay, baby?” she asked as I got in and buckled my seatbelt.
    I’d coached myself on not letting my emotions show when I got to the car, but she was my mom. And mothers could tell when something was wrong with their children even when we try our hardest to hide it and keep our heads held high.
    â€œYes, ma’am,” I said, placing the car in drive and pulling off. “I’m just fine.”
    â€œShawn, baby,” she patted me on the leg as we were stopped at a light. “You know it’s all right to cry, son.”
    â€œI know, Ma.” I wouldn’t even turn my head to look at her in the face, for I knew if I did, I surely would break down in the car. She’d always had that effect on me. “I’ll be all right.”
    â€œYes, you will, son,” she said as she reached for the volume button on the radio and turned it up.
    â€œGoin’ up Yonder” by Tramaine Hawkins was playing, and she hummed and rocked as we drove up Route 40, headed toward her house.
    After I dropped my mom back off home, I made my way back downtown to the Baltimore City Central District Police Precinct to look at the pictures of the crime scene. I checked in my credentials at the front desk, where the detective on