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The Testimony of the Dead Man Walking: The Journal of Demario Jones: 47 Scars
The Testimony of the Dead Man Walking: The Journal of Demario Jones: 47 Scars in Bloomington, MN
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They continued to search the apartment and found some other things stashed away. "And who does this belong to?" the chubby cop asked us as he pulled about 3 grams of heroin out of the purse that was tucked into the couch.
"I-I-I don't know," Keya stuttered, trying not to cry.
"Well, boy, what about you?" the chubby cop asked as he turned to me. I didn't say a word. I just sat there in silence.
"So, you don't hear me talking to you?" he asked. Man, fuck you, I thought to myself as I sat there not saying a word.
"Well, Keya, since it's in this purse with your identification, it's yours," he snapped as he aggressively put handcuffs on her also.
"What I'm going to jail for?" she cried.
"Possession of a controlled substance."
She sat there with her head hanging low. Just like that, I was on my way to the county jail along with my girl for capital murder.
"I-I-I don't know," Keya stuttered, trying not to cry.
"Well, boy, what about you?" the chubby cop asked as he turned to me. I didn't say a word. I just sat there in silence.
"So, you don't hear me talking to you?" he asked. Man, fuck you, I thought to myself as I sat there not saying a word.
"Well, Keya, since it's in this purse with your identification, it's yours," he snapped as he aggressively put handcuffs on her also.
"What I'm going to jail for?" she cried.
"Possession of a controlled substance."
She sat there with her head hanging low. Just like that, I was on my way to the county jail along with my girl for capital murder.
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