Amilli popped her head up and shook her head. “They’re every where Lamar.
“I know, babe,” he said, staring at the agents. “You may as well keep sucking. Let me get another nut. Might be ya last one from me.”
“You’re shot the fuck out. This is so embarrassing.”
“Fuck them. They wish they were getting the bomb as head every day like me,” Lamar said, thinking of those three letters that made the hair on the back of his neck stand: FBI. He threw his hands up, as an officer swung the door open.
Guns were pointed at him from every angle.
“Get the fuck out of the car, and keep your hands in the air,” FBI Agent Agent Brown said, forcing a frown to form on Lamar’s face. “Don’t look so confused now. You’re busted like a mutha fucka.” Agent Brown said, and added, “God I couldn’t wait to see your face.”
Lamar couldn’t believe what was happening. How the fuck did these niggas let a cop infiltrate our projects? Bartram-fucking-village. Now, I know what clown-ass Slam felt like when his crew lost his block to me.
“Put the dick away, buddy,” another agent said, “before we charge you with possession of another gun.”
Throwing his head back and closing his eyes, Lamar stuffed his pole into his pants, stepped out of the car, and was handcuffed. Agent Brown read him his rights, and said, “Your charges look like this: Continual Criminal Enterprise 848(a); Murder 1111; Robbery 1951—”
“Man, who the fuck I rob?”
“Drug conspiracy 846; Minors Use 861(a); Drug Distribution 841(a); Weapons 922(g); Weapons 924(c); and a Telephone count 843(b),” the agent said, ignoring Lamar’s asinine question. “Get this piece of shit outta here.”
“What about...um...the dick sucker?” another agent asked.
“You can let her go. It’s no crime in being in love with a loser. Plenty of women are into that.”
CHAPTER 51
Sitting in the back of an unmarked FBI vehicle, Lamar watched agents rummaging through his car. I don’t know what the fuck they’re looking for. Ain’t shit in that wheel. I am walking up outta this situation without an issue. The only problem he had at that point was the .45 ACP semi-automatic handgun that an agent took from the floor of the driver’s seat, a mere first-degree misdemeanor. He had planned on killing Slam and his daughter with that gun. Fuck!
It was apparent to Lamar how heavy he actually was. He smiled to himself as a known face walked up and opened his door. He found it funny that the man that had bought his Marauder was wearing a blue FBI jacket. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! That means they had the car from the Upper Darby crime scene for months now. Lamar started to panic but continued to wear his poker face.
“I believe we’ve met already, Mr. Dunken. Sorry that we have to meet again under these circumstances. I was really hoping that no blood was found in the car. I was wrong.”
“Your point?” Defiant.
“I am going to give you one chance to help yourself because, with everything that you’re charged with, you will die in prison. That little whore of yours will be sucking a lot more dick while you're gone with the wind.”
Lamar raised his eyebrows and raised his shoulders. “I don’t give two fucks, homie.”
“All I want to know,” the agent said, “is who, what, when, and where are Oz’s people getting in his shipments of coke. You know that I know, but I need your confirmation in exchange for asking the judge to be lenient on you by way of 5K1.”
Lamar grinned.
“Listen here, man. That bitch out there ain’t my bitch. She belongs to the game. Shit, I can make her suck every cop on this scene dick. Even ya little white dick. And, if you know everything, then what the fuck do you need me for? Get the fuck outta my face with the dumb shit. Call my lawyers. Yeah, plural, mutha fucka.” Lamar stopped talking and stared sternly at the agent. “Just shut the fuckin’ door and take me to jail. I have been waiting for this my whole life. I wear a size two-X jumper and a size nine shoe. Call FDC to get that ready.”
“You little faggot. You’re going to wish that you had cooperated. Or got it like ya boy Hamma. He’s still getting scraped up off the street.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Your buddy thought that he could go against us. That was even dumber than all of the other shit he’s done. Now there are water hoses getting whatever remains of him off the street. That’s exactly what I am going to do to you in the courtroom. I am going to have you killed by lethal injection, just for everyone to see.
The agent’s words cut Lamar deep, but he refused to wear his heart on his sleeve. He simply cracked a halfway and nodded his head, before he hawk and spit in the agent’s face, smiling. “That’s for killing my homie, pussy.”
Instinctively, the agent wiped Lamar’s phlegm from his face. He then dragged Lamar from the back seat and commenced to beating the regret out of him, while handcuffed.
CHAPTER 52
After spending the night at the FBI’s downtown Philadelphia office, Lamar was escorted to the United States Federal Courthouse at Sixth and Market Streets. He was processed into the system by federal marshals, and then taken before U.S. District Judge Matthew B. Flennigan.
The judge read him the charges from the indictment, and asked, “Mr. Dunken, how do you plead?”
His lawyer, Cam Moore, stood, and said, “Not guilty, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded and turned to the prosecutor. “Bail?”
“We’re drafting a memorandum to have the defendant denied bail. This defendant has—”
“We’re prepared to stipulate to detention pending trial, Your Honor,” Mr. Moore said, interrupting the AUSA before he was able to get any of Lamar’s criminal antics into the court of public opinion or on the record.
“Why the hell would we do that?” Lamar said, looking sternly at his attorney. He was bold and loud; the entire courtroom heard him.
