Marlon James - A Brief History of Seven Killings

— This court find—

— This not no bloodcloth court.

— This court find you guilty.

— You not no bloodcloth court. Me want justice.

— This court find you guilty.

— The whole of unu a fuckery. You and him and him, too. Force people to do what you want then—

— You all sentence to death. This is a civilized court.

— Top man get ’way and poor man suffer.

— Everybody suffer now ’cause o’ you.

— Him not suffering. Him is like lion in Zion now.

— Tony, bring that r’asscloth man here.

Tony shove the gag back in Leggo Beast mouth and drag him over. He didn’t even bother make him walk, just drag him by the shirt like him is corpse already, him legs scuffling on the road. He pulling him towards me but me nod towards the Singer. Me did think the women was going leave but them stay and look. I walk up to the Singer for the first time. He know what me going to do. He can say yes or no with just a nod, but he need to tell me. The man who justice wronged is the man who must choose how we going to right it. The manager step out of the way, for this is between me and the Singer. He look at me, me look at him for a second, me see a flash and hear a boom and pow and a hiss. Me on the road with three man, but not Pavarotti. The Singer switch in and out like a bad signal from a TV and his eye flash fire. I shake it out. I don’t feel the breeze on me. Cool breeze like we at sea. I shake it out. I look at him and he look at me. Behind me back and shoved in me pants, the gun, I pull the gun from behind me and hold it by the nozzle and hand it to the Singer. I wait for him to take the gun in him hand. I look at Leggo Beast and at the Singer. Him hand don’t even flinch. He don’t even nod no. He turn and walk away with the manager hopping right behind him. I don’t want him to leave before knowing that for this man Papa-Lo will see him get justice. He stop for one second when me squeeze the trigger. Someplace at some session the DJ just say People, are you rea-eh-dy? The Singer don’t turn around when Leggo Beast body fall flat on the ground and I shove the gun back in me pants. Leggo Beast flat on the ground, the hole in the back of him head gurgling blood like baby vomit. The wind spinning ’round and ’round like American tornado.

We by the beach, I can smell the salt in the sea. But McGregor Gully not by no sea. The Singer and the manager gone. When him drive away? Me blink and they gone. I shake me head out again. I look and see him on a bed in the white man country and room in a house with a long road that go up in the mountains, a place that look like it come out of a fairy tale book. And me blink again and another man coming towards me, no is not the Singer, this man near all bones and him black. He come right up to me and him breath smell of weed and food and it stink and he saying Where the ring? Where His Imperial Majesty’s ring? I know you see it. I know you see him wearing it. Where him put the bombo r’asscloth ring? I want it now, it can’t go back down in the Earth with him, you hear me? I want the bombocloth ring. Me have a right to it, me have a right to the livication of His Imperial Highness King Menelik son of Solomon who reign in Israel and send the fire of creation back down in the Queen of Sheba belly , he say and he come right up to me and me looking past him and the wind blowing colder and louder and harder like a storm, but is not the storm, is the sea and I shake real, real hard and it all go and is McGregor Gully looking clear again. My gun rubbing my back, still warm from the shot, the barrel down right below the belt, two man who was just jury lasso the other two man like they is both cow they dragging back to the ranch and still the women stay, and watch. I watch them watching it. I want to know what would make a woman watch the evil man do. Maybe if woman don’t witness judgment then judgment didn’t happen.

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

Me hear her but me can’t see her. They lasso the two man and take them into bush. No beat, no ceremony, no music. They throw the other end of the rope over two brand of the same tree. Why is a white man here? Why he behind them, looking at them, and why he turn around and look at me? When he look at me the breeze get cold. The two man standing on two tall stool, they trembling and they screaming. They trembling too hard and shifting the stool, but every time the stool shift they scream. The not-mad one thinking he just need to tense up him neck, just stiffen up every muscle and when the stool fall he won’t dead. I don’t know why I know what him thinking but that is exactly what him thinking and me know. But the white man looking at them, he looking up and down the rope and he looking at me and me want to jump and shout, Who you, white man? Who you be? You was following the Singer? How you get this far? But me can’t talk, me can’t say a word ’cause nobody else going on like white man suddenly deh ’pon them. Nobody don’t see him. Me don’t know but he look at them and stare at me. Tony Pavarotti don’t wait. The women watch. Maybe him is a duppy.

Tony Pavarotti kick ’way the first stool, the man drop one foot, two feet maybe. The man jerking and gagging and swing so hard and wild he knock the other man stool and then he fall to him death too. They swinging and jerking and the rope creaking and me look at them and me look between them at the white man and me neck start to burn and cut and bleed and blood in the skull pumping like a balloon filling with more and more water. They still jerking. This is cowboy movie fault. People thinking a hanging death happen as soon as the music stop. But hanging where the neck don’t snap can take a long, long time. It taking too long, and the women start to walk away backwards into the dark. The two men head swelling packing full with blood. The lungs give up from air hunger and both of them stop jerk. And neither of them dead yet. I know. I don’t know how I know, but I know. I know from feeling it inside them and outside them, and just watching they neck.

The white man is still there. The white duppy. I blink and he in the car with me. Me and the two other man who I know but I can’t remember, and we on a road, a bridge over the sea, but is not Pavarotti driving, is another man. I know him because he making joke about the idiot horse me buy a year ago and it still can’t win no race. And that don’t make no sense for me only buy the horse one week ago. But when me talk nobody hear me because me also talking in the car, and me can see meself talking in the car, me can hear what me saying ’bout the horse and me telling meself you only buy the horse one week ago.

The bodies now swaying with the breeze but still otherwise. Everybody gone, the women gone, the man them gone, nighttime gone, the sky grey and seagulls screaming. And me can’t see the white man. We in the car. Now we in the car but the car stop long time ago. We going to McGregor Gully. No, we coming from the football match, me only thinking horse race because Lloyd in the car and him train horse. No, is April 22, 1978. Me never forget the day of a hanging. No, is February 5, 1979, me never forget the day of that idiot football match because me was talking to Lloyd about how he training me horse.

No, wait. Roll back the tape. Me head not sitting right.

Clouds grey and heavy, rain about to fall.

Trevor, why you always drive so bombocloth fast once you reach the damn causeway, is daylight you running from?

You know him, boss. Him can’t wait fi leave Portmore.

Can’t wait, eh? What this one name Claudette or Dorcas?

Haha, you how it be boss, them Portmore girl is nothing but vampire.

Stop giving them your neck and spend ’pon you pickney for a change. How ’bout that?