Hood Rich: The rise and fall of one of Brooklyn's Finest by Corie Allen Page B

life
wasn’t so hard. On the cab ride home I could do nothing but think about Rich. What else could I do. I
walked up to Nostrand avenue like we always did.
Everything I did reminded me of him. With twenty
three hundred left, I figured I had enough to last two
months, but Rich should be home way before then. I
just needed to see Mr. Yilvo and find out what’s up.
The next morning I was up bright and early. I took a
cab to Mr. Yilvo’s office on 8th avenue in mid-town.
Rich had already talked to him. Mr. Yilvo was expecting me. His secretary opened the door to let me in his
office. He sat behind his huge mahogany desk clicking away on his computer.
“Rich was questioned but not charged on the Wilson
Avenue murders. He was released last night to his
caseworkers custody.”
I could feel an overwhelming sense of relief as Mr.
Yilvo laid the good news on me.
“So where is he… when can I see him?”
Mr. Yilvo’s facial expression changed. I could feel
some bad news coming.
“Well... right now he’s in juvie, and pending his family court date he may be released, or committed to a
juvenile facility.”
“What… he’s not even charged with a crime.”
I folded my arms and sat down, caused he owed me
an explanation.
“See the family court system is not just about crime
and punishment. There are a lot of other factors. The
short version is, they are worried, given the fact he
slipped away to Orlando so fast and undetected. The
only reason he was caught is because the TSA agent at
the airport remembered Rich’s face from the news.
the DA wants him to be available should any new evidence come up. If Rich was an adult they couldn’t
hold him. The problem is, the family court system
gives the DA a hundred and one ways to hold him
until he turns eighteen. I’m sorry, but theres nothing I
can do unless they charge him. I wish I could help. I
really do.”
I tried to hold the tears back... I did. They just kept
coming. I couldn’t see or talk to my baby. His birthday is June 30th, only six months away. I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t far off.
“So when can I visit him?”
I guess I could settle for visits.
“I don't think it would be a good idea for you to do
that. You would be risking your own liberty especially given your situation.”
The ride home was long. Those words echoed in my
head… given your situation. The only part he knew
was that I was on the run. He nor Rich knew my last
name. I didn't get too much into it about that. He
knew that I stabbed a bitch up in Nassau County for
setting me up. She was supposed to be my homie. We
were in a group home together in Mineola last January. We had cut school to go with these guys she said
she knew. The crazy thing is that the only thing she
knew is that they paid her sixty dollars to get me
there so they could run the train on me. She left me
there just like that. Bitches aint shit. I fucked one of
them and I was ready to go and then the other one
said:
“Naw we paid for both of us.”
That shit was crazy. I only fucked the one dude cause
I was feeling him, but I wasn’t with the dumb shit.
The one I had fucked ended up holding me down
while his boy fucked me. I saw that bitch at the bus
stop when they dropped me off. I took all her money
and stabbed her the fuck up. After that I saw the Long
Island Railroad train coming. I jumped on it and
headed into the city.
Rich knew that much, but not much more, other than
the shit he probably assumed, correctly. The fact that
it was cold outside so I was willing to chill with anybody that had a crib. If worse came to worse I would
fuck them too. I got used to it, and expected it. Sometimes I even wanted to. Rich was different though.
When we fucked it was like magic. Now these other
guys, they got what they wanted and then a week later they would get tired of me. I would get the boot,
and be in the street again. I would have to start all
over and meet another guy that would hopefully let
me stay