“So Pops puts me in his car and drives me over to Shaw’s house. I walk in and about shit myself. Those two white dudes weren’t there, but all them other niggas was. Plus another that wasn’t there tonight…Cole Daniels. This thing was snowballin’ now, but by this time…you know, it’s too late. Pops makes me tell them what happened, so I tell them the same shit I told my pops. I could see these guys just getting more and more pissed. Especially Price and Phipps, they was workin’ those other motherfuckers up. They start tellin’ ‘em ‘bout other brothers they heard you set up. Man, it starts getting real bad then. They was wantin’ your head. Everybody started arguin’ about what to do. Some people wanted to report you, but most said that wouldn’t do any good. Said all you white boys stick together, that nuttin’ would be done. Finally, Price just told everybody to settle down. He’d handle it. Told everybody to stay quiet about this, that they couldn’t trust the white man to do shit. After, Price pulled me to the side and got my cell phone number. Told me he would call later. Then Pops drove me away and told me not to talk about this anymore, that it’d be handled…”
Thorpe could picture the scene. Leon had fed their paranoia perfectly. They didn’t bother to question the validity of Leon’s or Price’s outrageous statements. They only heard what they wanted to believe—that they were being targeted by a racist white cop. Thorpe chose not to interrupt Leon’s recollection. He would pose questions when the man finished talking.
“…so I thought my part in all this shit was done. They wasn’t going to report it. Nothing official was going to happen. I went about my merry fuckin’ way. A few days later, Price calls and asks me if I remembered how to get to Shaw’s house. He gave me a time to come over that night and told me not to tell anyone what I was doin’, not even my pops. I’m nervous, I don’t know what the fuck he wants. So I show at his house, and there’s Baker, Price, Phipps, Corn Johnson, Thadius Shaw, Daniels, and that same white man that’s there tonight.”
“Is that Shaw’s house you were at tonight?” Thorpe asked.
“Yeah.”
“You said you don’t know who the white guy is?”
“No, man. I just seen him that night and tonight. That’s it.”
“What does he look like?”
“Man, I don’t know. He fo’ real don’t want to be seen. Both times he sits off in a corner with one of those fucking black ski masks on. Barely says a word, and when he does, he whispers like that actor in that fucking Batman movie. Don’t want to be known.”
“You think he’s a cop?”
“Fuck I know. Even though he don’t say nuttin’ the others kinda look at him like he’s running the shit. Know what I mean? Fuckin’ wait for him to nod and shit.”
Thorpe was frustrated. “You gotta know his height, weight, something?”
“I don’t fuckin’ know, man. He’s always sitting and wearing a big coat and shit. Might be about your size, might be fatter.”
Thorpe wasn’t getting anywhere in regards to the mysterious white man. “Go ahead with your story, Leon.”
“So Price asks me how I’d like to get back the guy who sent my brother to prison. And I ask how I was gonna do that. Price pulls out a fat bag, points at me, and says, ‘You gonna plant this in his house.’ I said no fuckin’ way, but they kept pressing me, and I kept sayin’ no. Finally Price says he’ll take care of it, but they won’t let me off the hook. They say I gotta be a part of it ‘cause of what I know. They told me where you stay and when you worked and the days you was off. They told me you was married and had kids. Wanted me to watch the house and call when it was empty. The next night I find your house—there’s a car parked in the driveway, and the lights are on. I didn’t want to sit in your hood…you know a brother sitting in your hood is gonna attract attention, so I just drove down the street every once in a while. That car was parked there the whole night. The next night I drive by your house, and there’s no car, no lights, nuttin’. It looked empty, so I call Price and tell him. He tells me to keep watchin’ the house and let him know if anyone comes home. I thought to myself fuck that!
“Later, Price calls and asks me if the house is still empty. I told him yeah, but really I wasn’t even watchin’ the damn place anymore. Price didn’t know that. He told me to keep watchin’ until I was told I could leave, told me to call him if anyone went to the house. Shit, I was already halfway across town, but I wasn’t going to tell Price that. Later that night, Price calls me, and he’s mad as a motherfucker…tells me the house wasn’t empty. He wants to see me, but I made up some excuse…I wasn’t about to go meet him. He tells me to keep my mouth shut until we could talk.
“The next day the shit about what went down at your place was all over the fuckin’ news. Then I heard the Double D Brothers were lit up the same night. I put two and two together, man…fuckin’ Price killed those niggas…I know it. Figured I was next. I was the only non-cop left in the know—my dad being one was probably only thing kept me alive. I put all this shit I’m tellin’ you to paper and gave it to someone to keep safe. I told Price he’d better make sure I stayed healthy, or that letter would be sent to the feds with a copy to my dad. They would’ve killed my black ass if I didn’t take out that little insurance policy on myself. That’s it, man! That’s the whole story. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. I didn’t even want to watch your house, but they made me. Please don’t kill me, man…I feel real bad about what happened to your wife and kid. That shit ain’t right. Please, man! I promise I won’t tell nobody. Just kill those motherfuckers…I’ll fucking help you do it.”
Leon put all this on paper? Thorpe thought.
“Where’s that letter you wrote, Leon?”
“My law…hey…that’s…uhh…if I die the cops are going to know all this shit. They’ll know the whole story. You can’t kill me! You’ll be suspect number one if you start doing these other motherfuckers. You gotta let me live. Killing me will get you in the joint.”
Leon made a good point—smart little bastard. “Where’s the letter you wrote?” Thorpe repeated.
“Fuck you, nigga, that letter gonna keep me alive. Got you now—cracker motherfucker.” Leon began to show his ass now that he thought it was saved.
Thorpe scooped up Leon’s legs before he could react, lifted them off the ground, and with all his strength yanked backward on the small man. Tendons and bones gave way as Leon’s arms, which had been restrained to the railing behind his lower back, now extended straight above his head. Thorpe dropped his contorted prisoner to the ground. The scream that followed barely sounded human and had to be stifled with the rag.
“Leon, you were doing so well, but then you had to go and get disrespectful. You are going to tell me where that letter is. It’s just a matter of how much pain you’re willing to endure first.”
Leon vomited, prompting Thorpe to remove the rag. The man’s arms no longer presented a threat so Thorpe cut the Flexcuffs and rolled Leon over on his side to prevent him from asphyxiating on his own puke.
“Leon, where’s the letter?” Thorpe persisted.
Leon sputtered, his breath smelling of bile. “At home, under my mattress.”
“Bullshit, asshole, that’s going to cost you.” Thorpe grabbed Leon’s wrist, locked his elbow, and slowly began to twist, rotating the already dislocated shoulder.
“Wait!...my lawyer has it…Jessie Leatherman.”
“Leon, are you lying to me again? If you are, I promise I’ll work on you all fucking night.”
“Man, he’s got it. If I die, he walks it to the feds. You can’t stop it.”
Thorpe considered Leon words—it made sense. Jessie Leatherman was a private criminal attorney who often served the North Side drug dealers. Officers loved him because he was a horrible lawyer. They joked Jessie put more bad guys in jail than any cop ever dreamed. The only time he got people out of prison was when they appealed their case and it was determined Jessie had provided ineffective counsel. Earlier, before Leon attempted to use the letter as leverage against Thorpe, he started to say his lawyer was in possession of the document. If Jessie did have the letter, it presented a significant obstacle. Thorpe wasn’t prepared to start hurting innocent people, which made retrieving the document a tricky proposal.