Marlon James - A Brief History of Seven Killings

— So any of them man you see?

— We saw the one at the back, who not saying nothing, the manager say.

— This one, him mother was hiding him for a year. Right under we nose.

— The CIA con we. Me can’t even remember nothing. Is when me mother tell me say me shoot… is only then me know and me still don’t remember, Jah know.

— Hold on a minute. I am acquainted with this one. They call him Leggo Beast. He’s from Jungle. Not far from where we all grew up. He used to come around an awful lot, so much so that even I recognize him and I was rarely around there.

— Is the CIA, the CIA and Josey Wales, and the other man who sound like Jamaica and America. Like you. Why nobody believe me?

— Tony, shut up this pussyhole. Leggo Beast? You see him ’round the house?

— Once or twice, never inside the house, but outside the gate, or in the gateway, once we even went out to talk to him and his brethrens.

— We?

— Us. We who you see here. Went outside to reason with him and his friend, but they said they were from Jungle and they have business with the friend, not the Singer.

— I see. ’Cause me know me never authorize nobody to go bother the Singer. Nobody go ’round to him house without my permission. Worse if they begging him anything.

— I don’t think it was that.

— That me tell you! We never come for him! We never come for the Singer! Me personally did come for the friend. Me an’ Demus.

— Tony, me never tell you to gag that boy? Who name Demus?

— He one of we. And Weeper. And Jeckle, no Heckle. And Josey.

— Shut the man up.

— Josey? the manager say.

— Enough, me done with talking, me say.

— Is time for more witness. Miss Tibbs?

One of the woman jump up.

— You have the lady as jury and witness? the manager say. Him seem to love chat. And laugh when him not supposed to laugh.

— Miss Tibbs? I say and she stand up and look around twice, but not at the Singer.

— Is was ten, no the eleven o’clock hour. Me just done say me devotional, praise the king, and look through me window and see white Datsun just screech up. Me see four man come out, include that one there at the back. Yes me sees it through me window with me owner eye. They’s come out of the white Datsun and run in all direction like when you sudden shine light ’pon roach. Somebody ask that one, the one behind Leggo Beast, not the mad one, him. Somebody ask him where him gun deh? And him say him no know, he must did drop it when them was driving out of Hope Road. Me hear him say Hope Road with me own ears. The next day him girlfriend leave the premises and me never see she again.

The next one don’t wait for me to tell him to stand up. He rise and say, You all know me as a man allow to walk through Copenhagen City and the Eight Lanes too. Me was the one who go to Shotta Sherrif and say, them man here who shoot up the Singer, nobody in Copenhagen City responsible for them. Papa-Lo would have never authorize them kinda fuckery—

— Watch you language.

— Them kinda sinting, me mean. Me say, So Shotta, you know them not in no JLP territory no more. So look through you own territory or beyond and sniff them out. Is them find this mad one, a hide in the bush all the way in St. Thomas. Man did have him gun in him brief. Me ask Shotta men how they find him, they say police did know where him be from, he jump ’pon a minibus and head out to country.

— What about the one who shot him personally? The same goon who shot me as well?

— Him dead, me tell you.

— The man who shot me four times?

— Dead.

— I most sincerely beg to differ. He was at the con—

The Singer touch the manager shoulder.

— Oh. I see. Perhaps that is for the best. Carry on then.

The manager shut up. Me did think the Singer was going talk. Me was hoping him did talk. But him already say enough to me. He know who shoot him. I know who shoot him.

Josey Wales.

Every other man in the two car was, brawta, extra, parts of the body, neither the heart nor head. We don’t talk but we say plenty. I look ’pon him and disappoint him again. But surely he must know the world and the sky and the planets and that they not the only things bigger than just an ordinary man from the ghetto trying to make wrong right.

Josey Wales.

But wrong six feet taller than right, I want to tell him. If you can’t catch Harry, catch him shirt and hold on to that at least, I want to tell him. Me is an old man and when you get old all your guns fire blanks, I want to tell him. Him looking at me and seeing the man who did aim for his heart.

Josey Wales. I was hoping the man was among these three even though me did know that wasn’t going to be so. Surely a man know the man who try to kill him even if only in the spirit. The manager get shot from behind, but the Singer get a bullet in the chest. But even that perplex me. Why anybody would want to shoot the Singer? Even the boys who get con from the horse race scam had a writ against the friend, not the Singer. He look ’pon me and me look ’pon him and we both know that on certain man neither of we can look. I want to kill Leggo Beast, bring him back to life and kill him again. At least seven time until the Singer satisfied. But that won’t satisfy nothing. And this court is already a joke. Me want to leave even before he want to leave.

— Me never shoot him. Me shoot the wife, Leggo Beast say.

Even the manager quiet after that one. The whole gully quiet while we all look at Leggo Beast hard. Him say it like it supposed to be something, that this is the only straw leave to clutch. Me mind run ’pon it right then, the man who once say to me, Papa, me never kill that woman, me did just rape her. The man beside him start laugh.

— Bam-Bam shoot the wife, not you, him say.

— No, is me did shoot her.

— Where? me say.

— Then no must in the bombocloth head. Yeah, inna the head.

The other one, not the mad one, start to laugh. Deep down, way past me heart, me did almost want to laugh too.

— You shoot the wife in the head and still couldn’t kill her? CIA train you for almost two months and you couldn’t even kill one woman? What happen to all them thing we see in movie? What kinda fuckery training that be when eight or nine man all with machine gun couldn’t kill one man? One unarmed man? Ten sitting duck in the studio?

Then me woman say, But Papa, you is a thinking man.

I look and think I see her standing at the top of the gully, but is nothing, not even a tree. Cold breeze sweep down into the passage. I swear I could see it hanging above we for a second then dive down, though breeze don’t have no colour. That song jump out of the radio and dive down in the gully too. Do it light. Do it through the night. Shadow . Me and Tony Pavarotti driving in the car. No, me in the taxi with three man but none is Tony Pavarotti. No, Tony Pavarotti gone. No he right beside me. No he over there behind the three jury. We in McGregor Gully, and him right there. He looking in the dark, we not in a car. The Singer is right there, him and the manager. Talk, manager, say something boasty and out of turn so I know you still there. Me didn’t shoot the Singer, me shoot the wife, Leggo Beast still saying. Me feel like me was outside and just walk right back into a discussion which gone far from where it was when me leave. But me never go anywhere. Me is right here and up above the wind swooping up and down like a ghost and I can see it and I can’t see it and I wonder if me is the only one seeing it and not seeing it, the wind rising above the gully like spirit about to fly.

— Enough with this r’ass. How unu find them? Guilty or innocent?

Guilty pop off all over the gully. I look around from the first to the last and count them off. One… three… five… seven… eight… nine. Nine? I look again and see eight. Me blink and between the blink and the open eye me sure me see nine and the ninth look like Jesus. No, like Superman. No, like CIA? Blink Papa, blink it again, blink it out. Just blink it out and pass judgment.