Marlon James - A Brief History of Seven Killings

And the world say people must have justice, so we going give them justice even though in the world is nothing but Babylon justice that treat we like animal. McGregor Gully is a hole. Is a passage beneath ghetto that rain water supposed to pass through to prevent flood, but since Babylon don’t send garbage truck to the ghetto, everybody throw garbage in the gully so when rain fall the same ghetto people get flood with water, rubbish and shit. So much rubbish it turn into a wall of garbage. At first me did think the court would say they verdict quick just to get out from the rat and the shit but these man and woman sit down on rock and tree trunk and they stern. Me study them face and they study me. They don’t even look ’pon the Singer and him manager. As soon as Leggo Beast see the Singer, him start whoop and wail and holler like him in the spirit and me tell Tony Pavarotti to silence him so he gun-butt him again.

— Them three man was descended ’pon Hope Road and try fi commit murder, me say.

— Is no me Papa, is no me is—

— You boy, shut you shit. People see them, and we have man who is witness. But me is a beneficent man. Me nah take justice for meself. Babylon court is fuckery so we set up we own court. You people is the court. You people judging, that way is judgment by the people for the people and nobody can say Papa-Lo just bring down hataclaps ’pon people like he name old testament God. We doing this proper. Babylon don’t have no justice, ladies and gentlepeople. Babylon don’t catch a single one of them ’cause Babylon on a different mission. But hear me now. Right now, you listen to the witness and you listen to the accused for even them have a right to give account for themselves, after all this is where we prove a man guilty, not where a man have to prove himself innocent. Is more than they deserve and is more than what they will get from the Babylon shitstem named Gun Court. If it even reach court. Police would ah shoot them and kill them long before them reach court. After all next thing we know, behind the trigger is Babylon for real. You, Mr. Manager, tell we what happen ’pon that evening.

— Well, I must say that right now I am in view of one of them. But some crucial fellows I don’t see. I don’t see at all.

— Who you don’t see?

— He’s not here.

— Who?

— But this one was there. And this one. And… hold him up to the light. Him, too.

— The Singer have anything to say?

— I speak for the Singer and for me, since only he and I were in the kitchen.

— I see.

— It is interesting to note what the young man just said.

— What him say? Go on.

— Well, as you may not know, I was a soldier in the U.S. Army. Served from 1966 to 1967. That was when the Vietnam crisis was in full swing.

— Jimmy Cliff did do one song name “Vietnam.”

— Huh? Well, yes I’m sure. As I was saying, so I know all about the full workings of the CIA. So I know that should you see any attaché, consultant, embassy employee, any white man in a suit who’s too far from the New Kingston, he is most certainly CIA. In fact if I were you I wouldn’t trust any white man you see anywhere but Negril or Ocho Rios. So anyway, on the day in question—

— Nobody questioning the day.

— It’s an expression. It’s… anyway, I was pursuing some much needed relaxation at a Jamaican establishment, when I had to leave to catch a flight to Miami on some business. I returned the following day, this would be what, December 6? Yes, I think that is correct. So let’s see. First I went back to the establishment to check on things. Then I went over to House of Chen for some curry goat—

— What this have to do with—

— I’m getting to that, gentlemen. And lady. Ladies. So I went to House of Chen on Knutsford Boulevard for some fine curry goat. From there I went to the Sheraton to pick up the head of the label, but he wasn’t there. I returned the car for it was a rental and made my own way in my car to 56 Hope Road. I always park my car under the alcove so that’s what I did. I could hear the band rehearsing so of course I looked in for him, but he wasn’t there, he was in the kitchen. So in the kitchen I went and there he was, eating a grapefruit. Anyway, he and I had matters to discuss, and, well, I haven’t had grapefruit in God only knows. So, I said I would love a piece of grapefruit, and he waved me over. As soon as I reach out to grab it we both hear a sound like a firecracker. Of course gentlemen and lady. Ladies. This was the Christmas season so of course I paid scant attention to what we both thought were firecrackers. I think he said something like who the bloodcloth bursting firecrackers in my yard? Something like that. But before he could even finish, next thing we know, more ratatatatat. All of a sudden I just felt this burst of a burn. Then another one, then another so fast that it almost felt like just one burst. I didn’t even realise that I was shot. You don’t feel like you’re being shot, you just feel your legs burn, then give out, and still have time to wonder why. All I know is that I fell forward on him and then he said, Selassie I Jah Rastafari. It was just all so fast. So, so fast.

— Then if you get shoot in the back how you know who shoot you? one of the woman say.

— I think I passed out. When I regained consciousness I was still in the kitchen. They shoot me. I’m dead or something, I hear people saying. Since they thought I was dead none of them wanted to pick me up since, as you know, Rastafarians don’t touch dead bodies. Everybody kept assuming I was dead. The police threw me in the backseat of a car because they thought I was dead. At the hospital the nurse actually looked at me and said, This one dead. They actually started wheeling me to the morgue, all this time I could see everybody saying these things about me and couldn’t do a thing. Imagine that. Thank God for Bahamians. This Bahamian doctor passing by just said let me check and told them I was still alive. Four shots, gentlemen. One near the base of my spine — it’s a miracle I’m walking today, thanks to doctors in Miami. Well, it was a miracle I didn’t settle for what Jamaican doctors and nurses told me.

— The Singer have anything to add to this here proceed—

— I speak for the Singer.

— Him know who try to kill him?

— Of course he knows. He knows some of them personally.

— Who fire the shot?

— Shots.

— Shots. Him see who fire the shots here?

— Three of them, sure. But where are the others?

— The others dead.

— Dead?

— Dead.

— Surely that’s not the case. I saw at least two of them at the peace concert. One was even near the stage.

— Me don’t know what you talking about. We have three here and them all confess.

— Even this one with the gag in him mouth?

— The other two say him involve.

— Them force me, skipper! Leggo Beast say.

— Them and Josey Wales and the CIA and them use powder fi, fi hypnotise me! Them threaten fi kill me.

— Can I hear from the one with the gag? the manager say.

— That idea, it not too good.

— I’m afraid I must insist.

— Insist? What that mean?

— It means we both leave if we don’t hear what he has to say.

— Tony, pull that thing out ah him mouth.

Tony pull the gag off. The boy just drool and look straight on in the evening like him blind.

— Young youth, what you have to say for yourself? You. You boy. You no see we giving you chance?

Fool-fool boy. Him look at the manager and say,

— Me can see right through me. Me can see right through, right through, Leviticus and Numbers and Deuteronomy.

— Nothing good going come out that one mouth, me say and motion Tony Pavarotti to put the gag back on.