Jean: The Box Cutter Murders Ch. 01

"The jury only deliberated for an hour. Why do you think they returned a guilty verdict?"

"Juries generally believe the police despite instructions about being innocent until proven guilty. Basically, David got convicted because he couldn't account for his whereabouts at the time of Inesa's murder, and he is conveniently black. Of course, finding him asleep in an alley near the crime scene covered in blood didn't help."

"Seriously Michael, exhibit one was his bloody shirt, and you don't believe he is guilty?"

"Yes, but who's blood? That is what makes this case interesting. I believe in trusting my gut, and my gut tells me the young man is innocent. I talked to him in prison, and he said he loved Inesa and would never do her any harm. I doubt Inesa even knew he existed, but I don't think David even knows how to lie. I could always be wrong, but I believe it's worth a shot if we can free an innocent man. Don't you agree?"

"Are your instincts ever wrong?"

"Oh definitely, all of the time. That is why I don't waste my time chasing hunches. That is what interns are for."

"OK, do you have any suggestions on where I should start?"

"Jean, I expect to find his cousins at a rent party, but I doubt that they will talk to me. I think they might be willing to talk to a pretty woman about their age. I'm hoping they can provide an alibi for David."

"What day is this, um, 'rent party?'"

"A rent party is when someone serves food and drink at their apartment to raise the rent money. Mama Jones is famous for her soul food and especially her fried chicken, hush puppies, collard greens and black-eyed peas. Her rent party has already started, but I don't expect David's cousins until later."

I looked down at my skimpy outfit and realized my sweaty top was plastered to my unconstrained breasts highlighting my nipples. I also noticed the safety pin was missing from my shorts. "Professor Williams, I can't go to a party dressed like this. I was harassed enough just walking here."

"Jean, I assure you, you are dressed just fine. In case, you haven't noticed it is hotter than hell. Most of the women at the party will be wearing little more than you are. Besides, I think it will help to attract the attention of David's cousins."

"So, you are planning on using me as bait?"

"Oh no, no, no. I wouldn't think of it. I just meant the party will be crowded, and I wouldn't want the cousins to ignore you. I can invite a friend to keep an eye on you and make sure you'll be safe. Please do it for David."

"Michael, you're asking a lot."

"I assure you I wouldn't ask if I didn't know what they do to young boys like David in prison. Every day he is in there, his soul is at risk of annihilation. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

Even his cousins agreed to talk, David hadn't mentioned being with anyone when the police interviewed him. I had no reason to believe they would provide any useful information on the young man's whereabouts at the time of the murder. The most likely outcome was that they would refuse to talk to a white girl out of her depth in the black ghetto.

I finally accepted Michael's argument when he promised that getting David released from prison would ensure a passing grade. God knows my Contract Law grade was borderline. I needed to pass both courses to get my law degree. Even if I could afford it, I doubted I could survive another semester in law school. I was anxious to escape from Temple Law School and get on with my life. I wanted to join my boyfriend in California. It was only later when I was crying that I realized how easily the good professor had caught me in his trap.

I said, "I guess it's worth a try. I feel sorry for David."

Once I agreed to attend the rent party, Michael gave me no time to reconsider. After I had paid for my groceries, he grabbed my elbow and escorted me out of the store. The crowd outside parted for Michael. Everyone respected him for his help in their too frequent brushes with the law. Despite their respect for my escort, several of the men shouted out blatant suggestions of what he should do with my skinny honky ass.

As my professor guided me along the steamy streets deeper into the ghetto, I saw flashes of heat lightning in the distance. The promised relief of a thunderstorm appeared to be miles away. After several blocks, he directed me down an alley. I was getting nervous until I heard a stereo playing Lionel Richie and the Commodores singing 'Just to Be Close to You.'

Michael guided me up the back stairs into an apartment carved out of an ornate home that had once belonged to a captain of industry in the 1890s. Michael paid ten dollars so I could attend the party. The apartment was hot, crowded and pulsating with soul music. My nose was assaulted with the smell of sweat, marijuana and fried chicken.

As soon as we entered, someone handed Michael a jug of cold white wine. He took several healthy swallows before handing it to me. I was thirsty but all too aware of the effects of the wine and heat. Still, the wine was cold, and it went down easily. As soon as I passed the wine on, Michael handed me a joint. I felt like every eye in the room was on me. I was the only white person in the room. I took a long drag and sensed the room relax. I had not had anything to eat since a small cup of instant noodles over eight hours ago, and the wine and the weed hit hard.

Michael introduced me to Mama Jones. She was a massive woman wearing a full-length dashiki dress. There was enough flesh on her frame to make two of me.

"Oh, my Michael, this poor girl looks like she's been starved. Let me get her some food."

Mother Jones guided Michael and me to a table covered with plates and bowls of fragrant food. She loaded a plate for each of us. I laughed. Her eyes were way bigger than my stomach. There was no way I could eat what she piled on the plate. She found us a place to sit at a long table. She brought us each a tumbler of white wine as I dug into the massive plate. Maybe it was the weed that stimulated my appetite, but more than anything it was the amazing flavors. It was by far the best fried chicken I had ever tasted. I was nervous about the collard greens and black-eyed peas, but I fell in love at first bite. As for the hush puppies, who doesn't love little balls of fried dough?

While I was eating, Mama Jones asked, "Michael, where did you find this poor waif?"

Michael laughed and said, "She's one of my legal aids for the summer. We're trying to get David's conviction overturned. I think Jean will be an immense help."

Mama Jones sat down beside me and talked while I ate. "I watched over David along with Jamel and Youssef while his aunt was at work. He worshiped his cousins and would follow them everywhere. He's a good boy but quiet. If he got into trouble, it was because of his cousins. His teachers said he was a special needs child. I don't think they tried hard enough. He got interested in the Boy Scouts and earned several merit badges. I watched the boy sit quietly and tie knots for hours when he wasn't writing or drawing in his notebook. He's got some special talents."

I said, "Do you think he was guilty?"

"Oh Lord, no. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body. Besides, I don't think he's clever enough to pull off an elaborate ritual murder."

I nodded as she talked. Her comments about David were interesting but then family members and friends are often the last to suspect.

While Mama Jones talked, I washed down the sumptuous soul food with gulps of white wine. My eating was interrupted by Michael passing me a joint. Finally, I looked at the empty plate in front of me and wondered where all the food had gone.

I said, "Michael, when are David's cousins going to show up?"

"They won't come until Jamel gets off work. He works the late shift. I expect they'll arrive shortly after 11."

The clock said 10:15.

"What do we do while we wait? I'm getting buzzed on the weed and wine. I'll be passed out by then if I keep up this pace."

Michael said, "I know just the thing for a tired law student."

Michael led me out onto the balcony toward a sharp dressed man leaning on the railing. He was at a couple of inches shorter than me but probably a good forty pounds of muscle heavier.

"Samuel, can you fix up my friend Jean with some of your turbo weed?"

Samuel turned around and whistled when he saw me.

Samuel said, "Is Jean yours or is she free?"

Michael laughed, "She's my intern, and she's helping me with an appeal to get David off on the murder conviction. Best I know, she's a free woman."

Samuel looked me up and down with a casual leer. He said, "I bet you have a lot of college loans. How would you like to earn some easy money?"

I backed up into Michael's hard body and said, "Michael, what does he mean?"

Michael laughed, "Samuel's a pimp. I think he just gave you a compliment."

Compliment, my ass! The asshole had just offered me a job as a prostitute. I was a strong supporter of women's rights and all too aware of how many women around the world were victims of sex trafficking. As far as I was concerned this piece of garbage deserved to die a slow lingering death from the same diseases that killed so many innocent young women.

I hissed, "What the hell are you getting me into, Michael?"

"Don't worry. Samuel's one of the few good ones who care for their girls. Unfortunately, Inesa worked for a pimp who was more interested in money than his girl's safety."

Michael said, "Samuel, I want you to keep an eye on her and help her meet Jamel."

I said, "Michael, why can't you stay and introduce me to Jamel?"

"I'm the reason Jamel got out of prison early, but he's been avoiding me. I've been pushing him hard to abide by his parole and get into a job training program. Best I can see, he's doing his best to return to prison. If I stay, I'll just spook him. Just stay away from his brother Youssef."

Samuel said, "Jean, don't worry. I've got this. I'll keep both of my eyes on you, so you'd better behave."

I watched as the only person I knew in the room left. Samuel lit a joint and took a long drag before passing it to me. After the wine and weed, I had consumed earlier, I wasn't feeling any pain. The rush I got from this joint took me by surprise. I felt a wave of euphoria wash over me. The weariness arising from too many long nights pounding my law books faded. By my second toke, all my anxieties about interviewing strangers concerning a brutal rape and murder evaporated. I just knew I could help get David released.

Samuel led me back into the living room and said, "Let's dance."

I smiled and said, "Samuel, you're on. I love to dance."

A scratchy recording of James Brown singing "Sex Machine" was playing. At the end of the song, Samuel was standing behind me holding my hips as I gyrated my ass to the refrain "shake your money maker."

The next song was a slow number, and Samuel pulled me close. I'm not normally a talkative person, but I found I couldn't stop babbling. I proceeded to tell him my life story as we danced. I began to suspect the joint was laced with an amphetamine I had occasionally used to pull an all-nighter before a test.

My sweaty body was pressed against Samuel, and I was feeling turned on by the feel and smell of his muscular body. Earth Wind and Fire was singing "Reasons."

"Now, I'm craving your body, is this real
Temperatures rising, I don't want to feel
I'm in the wrong place to be real
Woahh and I'm; longing to love you just for a night."

Samuel spun me around to face the door and said, "Jamel and Youssef just arrived. Don't stare. Jamel is the snappy dresser. He's a cool dude, but Youssef is a crazy ass motherfucker. He's the one with the knife scar running down his face. He ran into someone who was faster than him with a blade. Your life will be happier if you stay away from him. He likes to hurt women, and I won't let him get close to my girls. I'll think of something to attract Jamel's attention."

Samuel's hand slipped down my bare back to cup my ass. He whispered he was playing grab ass simply to attract Jamel's attention.

Jamel was wearing running shorts and a muscle shirt. He definitely had the build for the shirt. His bare legs were dark and muscular. The running shorts were tight on his massive gluts. The barbed wire tattoo on his bicep gave me a clue where he had gotten the hard body.

Jamel's face displayed an intense rage. When he entered the room, his eyes darted around as if he expected to fight. When he saw me, he appeared startled at the presence of a white woman. His eyes scanned my pale body. Samuel swung me around to make it obvious his hand was on my ass marking me as his woman.

Jamel circled me like I was wounded prey. While he chatted with Mama Jones, he kept glancing my way to make sure I wasn't leaving. He grabbed a beer, and I lost him for a moment. Samuel spun me around again, and I saw Jamel smoking weed on the porch. I hoped it wasn't laced with speed. If anyone didn't need a boost in their confidence and aggressive tendencies, it was the angry man Michael wanted me to interview.

Samuel said, "He's definitely interested. You'll be on your own but don't worry; I'll keep an eye on you."

I started to protest when he slid his hand down my bare back and slipped it inside the waist of my loose shorts. He pulled my body tight against his and cupped my ass through my sheer panties. His other hand was in the middle of my back holding me tight against him.

I hissed, "What are you doing Samuel. Move your hand!"

Samuel said, "Sorry."

With that, he slid his fingers down my ass crack and wrapped his fingertips around to rub up and down the bottom of my pussy. I shrieked and slapped his grinning face.

Samuel yelled, "Bitch!"

He shoved me away, and I staggered against the wall hard enough to knock the air out of me. He turned on his heel and stormed away.

His parting shot was a shout of, "Stupid cunt!"

I yelled, "Asshole!"

I doubt he heard me. Even when realized Samuel's move had been an act, I remained agitated. I became more nervous when I realized I was surrounded by a pack of leering men moving in for the kill. Samuel had pushed my shorts halfway down my ass exposing my thin bikini panties. Samuel had also untied the back of my top while I was distracted, and the sweat-drenched fabric was hanging loosely around my neck exposing most of my heaving breasts. I tugged my shorts up to my waist. My hands were shaking from anger as I fumbled with the ties on my top. Jamel pushed his way through the crowd and glared at the wolf pack.

He growled at the nearest guy, "Get lost."

He looked at me and asked, "You OK?"

"I am now, but I think I'm in trouble with Samuel."

Jamel said, "I think you need a new Daddy. Let's go out on the balcony and relax."

Jamel lit a joint and leaned against the railing. He took a long hit before handing it to me. My hands shook as I took a drag. I recognized it was more of the turbo weed as soon as I felt the amphetamine rush.

"I'm Jamel. What is a pretty little white girl doing hanging out with an old black dude like the Professor? Did Samuel get you a date with him?"

Jamel wasn't supposed to know about my relationship with Professor Williams. I tried playing dumb. "The Professor?"

"Mama Jones said the Professor brought you. He shouldn't have abandoned you. Someone might think he was selling his students to that pimp, Samuel."

I'm not very good at lying when I am at my best, and tonight I was stoned. I blurted out, "Look, you've got it all wrong. My name is Jean. I'm working for Professor Williams as a legal aid on the David Brown case."

I held out my hand and Jamel wrapped his big brown hand around mine. He held on to my hand and glared at me. "You're wasting your time. You may be fooled by his Boy Scout image, but that dumb nigger is guilty. The jury was only out for an hour. The judge imposed the death penalty. End of story."

I said, "I'm not so sure of his guilt. The police did a shitty job of investigating the murder, and David denies he did it."

Jamel laughed, "Jean, you must still be wet behind the ears. I've been to prison. Everyone in prison lies, even the ones who admit they did it are lying. David may seem sweet, but he's still a liar."

"Michael's instincts say that David is innocent, and he wants me to investigate. I'm trying to find out where David was the night Inesa was murdered. Any chance you can tell me anything?"

Jamel looked around before he said, "I'll tell you what I know, but we can't talk here."

I was so excited that Jamel's testimony might help free David that I hardly paid attention to my surroundings as the brawny man guided me through the kitchen and into a small laundry room. Mama Jones glared at me as I walked past with Jamel. She started to say something before biting her lip. The only light in the laundry room was from the kitchen. Mama Jones was just around the corner.

Jamel said, "We can talk here."

He put his massive hands on my waist and lifted me up to sit on the dryer. He pushed my thighs apart and moved in close. His crotch pressed against mine, and I tried to scoot my butt away from him. He pulled me close with a hand on the small of my back. His other hand found my neck, and he tilted my face up to look into his eyes just inches away. He was breathing hard, and his eyes were still furious. My hands pressed against his chest, and I was afraid Jamel might hit me at the slightest provocation.

"Just what did that stupid, little nigger say happened."

"Wha, wha, what do you mean?"

"Don't fuck with me. What did my cousin say happened that night?"

"Michael talked to him in prison. David didn't say much. He just said he didn't do it. He said he would never hurt Inesa. He didn't have an alibi, and he obviously knew her. The police report said he was in a daze when they arrested him near the crime scene. His clothes were covered in blood. He was bleeding from cuts on his face, and his knuckles were lacerated. Inesa had been badly beaten which fit with the injuries to his knuckles. Michael doesn't think David could have killed the girl, but the boy refuses to offer a defense. I came here tonight to find out if anyone was with him that night. Maybe you know something that will help get your cousin out of that horrible prison."

"Get one thing straight. That nigger is not my friend. He's just a dumb fuck who follows me around like a puppy. He was with my brother and me that night before I drove him off with a kick to his stupid ass. I guess he was looking for kindness from Inesa and killed her when she refused him."

"Even puppies deserve a little kindness."

Jamel said, "Tell me, Jean, are you looking for a little kindness?"

Jamel's hand was still on my neck, and he pulled my face toward his and kissed me hard. I could feel his erection as he ground against me. His tongue pushed into my mouth and the taste of his whiskey and weed scented mouth overpowered the flavor of cheap wine and weed in my mine. I whimpered when he bit my lip.

While I was distracted, Jamel untied my top and pulled it up over my head. I jerked back when his mouth fastened on a hard nipple. My head banged hard against a cupboard. I had nowhere to go. I leaned back on one arm and tried to push his head away with the other.

I squealed a protest, "Jamel please don't. Not like this. Anyone can hear. Mama Jones is just around the corner."

Jamel laughed, but his angry face never softened. He reached for the clothes dryer controls.

He said, "Ah, here we go. Air-dry for thirty minutes. Now you won't have to worry about Mama Jones hearing us."

The dryer squealed as it came to life beneath me. It must have been loaded with clothes because it shuddered and shook my body. Jamel's hands and mouth found my breasts, and I groaned. My hands were on the back of his head. I'm not sure if I was holding his mouth to my breast or pushing it away. He bit my breast, and I jerked my hips up to escape the sharp pain. Jamel unzipped my shorts and began pulling them down my thighs.