Lisa Allen-Agostini - Trinidad Noir

The Afro guard heard him and started laughing. “Ah, man. I see yuh lover boy here.”

“Wait a minute,” the Indo guard said. “This one is a buller man? No wonder the boys didn’t want to touch yuh.” The guards laughed and talked about Kwae all the way to the courtroom.

He didn’t mind. Vish looks so beautiful with clean shoes and all, but his hair is cut short to the point that he looks almost Indian. Too bad, Kwae thought. He liked to stroke the dougla waves. I wonder if his mother made him cut it. Although Vish did not appear to see him, Kwae would definitely catch his eye inside the courtroom.

All that matters is that Vish is here to defend me. He will tell the jury that we were together the day of the murder, at least most of the day — after all, didn’t the boys in blue catch me at home? So I could never have done the dirty deed of chopping off Redman’s phallus and then burying him at the shores of the swamp. That would have taken a lot of time. The bastard who did it deserves to suffer in Hell’s fire for eternity and to be haunted by La Diablesse and the douennes.

The case mulled on during the day as ethnic fatigue settled into the judge, jury, and lawyers. Finally, Mr. Vishlal Thomas was called to make his oath. This is the moment of truth , Kwae thought excitedly. Vish made his oath staring straight ahead with a stone face.

The defending lawyer began to pound out his questions. The questions seemed endless. Kwae felt sorry for having to put Vish through this. Why doesn’t Vish look at me for support? he wondered. Then he realized that Vish’s mother was there, her face looking like frozen baigan choka. Gasps of shock from the jury interrupted his reverie. Vish was repeating the word, “GUILTY!” Everyone was silent. What kind of sick joke? Is this for real? Kwae felt his palms moisten. Vish didn’t look his way.

“Doh chain my head up!” Kwae yelled. He rose screaming and rushed toward Vish. Instantly the guards floored him and stabbed him with a tranquilizer. As the drug settled in, Kwae lay motionless, unable to accept that his dougla had done this to him.

When Kwae opened his eyes, he felt the coldness of the floor seeping through his back. He was in his cell. He could barely move as the tranquilizer had only partly worn off. He began to think. How could Vish carry me on this merry-go-round? Is he part of the Scare-’em Crew? Just the thought of it made his stomach churn, and he had to turn on his side to throw up. As he rolled back, turning his face away from the puke, he heard keys clanking and officers jabbering loudly. The Afro officer didn’t have his usual silly smirk. The Indo one had a container in his hand which he upended, drenching Kwae in cold water. Kwae had barely uttered a few words when he was cut short by the sneering tone in the Afro officer’s voice.

“Time to get ready for the hard life of jail, yuh buller criminal.”

“Yeah, no more pretty-boy treatment,” the Indo sneered. Kwae shivered as they handcuffed him and dragged him through the pissy walkway. This treatment was far harsher than that which he had received earlier. Now he was a convicted criminal and as good as dead. He didn’t care. He felt dead already remembering Vish’s betrayal. His soul seemed to have left his body, and he didn’t have the fight in him to protest or even to try to walk.

As the stench stung his nostrils, he remembered Redman’s murder scene. He had just walked into the car parts place at the swamp that day when he saw the big burly body lying facedown in a puddle of blood. He had been so stunned at the sight that his eyes began to blur. His mind became so cloudy that it took him awhile to realize that the scene was actually real. Unfortunately, instead of running out the back entrance, he headed through the front and tripped over a cutlass. As a reflex he picked up the bloody cutlass and then dropped it and continued running. His fingerprints on the cutlass led the police straight to him. Of course those were the only prints the lazy morons decided to take.

Kwae’s mind shifted back to the present. His underarms began to hurt as the guards dragged him to the visiting room where they had fun taunting him, tapping him up, and threatening to do all kinds of strange things with his rear end. They can’t scare me — I’m as good as dead. I just can’t believe these bastards are so sick. They left him sitting in the visiting room listening to the hum of a radio down the hall. Who could be coming to see me? Maybe this is part of the new treatment — how wonderfully torturous. His thoughts drifted back to the courtroom and Vish’s testimony...

Kwae’s vision was still blurry from the tranquilizer when a figure appeared in the doorway. My mother? Vish? Wouldn’t it be a laugh if it was Vish’s mother? He could make out a buff shape and a big head. “Doh tief my head,” Kwae choked out. His blood pumped faster as the blur turned into a man pulling up a chair next to him.

“Yuh know what your problem is, dougla?” the man began. “You think too much about the wrong things.”

“You jagabat!” Was it really Redman? “You and my Judas man, eh?” Kwae’s voice rose as he tried to get up from the chair.

“Actually, you little cynic, your mother and I,” Redman replied coolly. Kwae stopped short as the words registered.

“Your mother was right. You do have a short fuse.”

“Don’t even try to bring my mother into this,” Kwae growled. “I won’t fall for that piece of la.”

“You don’t have to.” Redman placed an envelope within Kwae’s reach. Kwae stared at it, then picked it up and spilled the contents onto the table — a badge, an ID card, and a tape recorder. He read the name on the badge — Simon Redman James.

“So you were an undercover, huh?”

“And still am.”

“And the tape recorder?”

“Play it.” Redman leaned back in his chair, a smile curling the corner of his mouth.

Is this all part of his extended torture? Kwae wondered. If it is, I’ll have to give the local boys credit for going so far. He reached out and pressed play.

It was a conversation between Redman and his mother. She was crying and going on about how she had to find a way to keep Kwae out of trouble so he would not end up in jail. He needed a strong lesson to make him quit his life of crime.

Kwae stopped the tape. “So why did you decide to help my mother?” he asked softly.

“You see, kid,” Redman’s voice boomed, “I realized that you were different. I thought since your mother knew what you were into, she coulda talk you out of it. But she’s a smart woman, and she knew you would not change your ways just through her talking to you.”

“So you all decided to shake me up a bit, huh?”

“Yup. And your boyfriend was pretty keen on being the one to declare you guilty. He was upset at being drenched in your lies.”

“So what now?”

“You’re free to go.” Redman got up and left.

Kwae sat, the words free to go resounding in his head. He still felt as though something was weighing him down. Two new mixed recruits appeared and escorted him to the showers.

While the refreshing water sprayed over him, he thought that maybe working with his brother wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe I could even get a car of my own and join the Indo boys on the track. Yeah. His weight was washing down the drain with the dirt from his body. And as for Vish, well, I hope he can forgive me. We’ll just have to find a new lovers’ retreat and stay away from the swamp. Who knows? Maybe we could explore Asa Wright — after all, they have caves and lots of birds up there in the forests of the Northern Range.