Mr. Perfect ch.2
It was a hot day in August. A few of my old friends wanted to ride around that afternoon so we could
get drunk and smoke weed. I was 19 years old and the only thing on my mind was getting money by
any means. That’s all I thought about day in and day out. And whatever I did, even if I’m just riding
around in chill mode, I was thinking of my next big payday. Growing up in the hood had gotten the
best of me. I had just bought me a 1986 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham. It was tricked out with a
wood grain candy paint, 30 spoke rims, gold grille, and music so loud that it knocked my rearview
off. My boys always wanted to ride with me, even if I was just going to the store and back. A car like
that with rims and music was rare for niggas in my age group. Most of us were still living at home
with our mothers, robbing, stealing cars, selling dope, or doing home invasions. It was fun and easy
to us. As for me , I was doing all of the above. Always lurking for that next dollar. And I was one of
the few that was successful. Mainly because I was smart when it came to doing dirt. But don’t get it
twisted , I was dirty as hell. To me, there were no rules to the streets. I would pistol whip, shoot, and
torture niggas if I felt enough money was involved. So as we rode around in my Caddy, listening to
Tupac "Shed So Many Tears", passing blunt after blunt, letting the a/c blow. We turned down 5th
Ave. And rode by a local hangout called Fletcher’s Bar. While I sat at the light, about a block away
from the police headquarters, I saw a man that I knew from buying dope from me, but I didn’t know
his name. He saw my car and started flagging me so I rolled my window down as he stumbled
towards me. He was clearly drunk. He walked towards my car from the sidewalk and stuck his head
in my window and said he wanted to buy some crack. That was nothing new because 5th Ave. was a
dope stroll. I told him that I had to go and get it cause I didn’t ride around like that , I told him that if
I did that he had to spend big. He asked me, “ how much for an ounce”? , as he pulled out a big stack
of hundreds and fifties out of his front pocket. Back then , in 1995, ounces of crack went for around
$600 to $750. I told him to wait out in front of Fletcher’s until I came back. I pulled off with dollar
signs in my eyes, but I wasn’t about to sell him no dope.
“We about to rob this nigga”, I told my homeboys as I turned the music down. They knew I was a
gutta ass nigga that was always plotting. But what they didn’t know is that the trunk was full of guns.
My best friend Weez asked, “E you got some fire"? I just looked at him and smiled with an evil grin.
See me, I was always the ring leader because I stayed three steps ahead of the game and the other
niggas that was in it. I circled around the block a few times then pulled back up to Fletcher’s and told
dude to get in the back. Poochie got out so he could sit in the middle of the back seat. My mind was
moving fast while my heartbeat was slow and cold. I pulled my car in the back of an old bank that
had been closed down for years. It was just off of a main highway through town but out of site on a
one way street. We all got out and I told him to walk to the trunk. I didn’t even have to tell my boys
what to do. When I opened the trunk, they instantly grabbed him from both sides and slammed him
against the wall. The impact busted the back of his head open. Blooded rolled down the back of his
neck as he begged me not to hurt him. As I came up out the trunk, I whipped around cocking my
sawed off 12gauge shotgun. It was all black and had a rubber pistol grip, a gold trigger, and a gold
sight on the tip of the barrel. I shoved the barrel in his face real hard while talking in a real low voice.
“Nigga I want every dime in your pocket or I’m about to paint this wall with your ugly ass face”!!!
Two of my niggas had him pinned against the wall while Weez went into his pockets and got the
money. He put the money in my pocket while I still had the sawed off in his face. At that very
moment, out of the corner of my eye, I seen a white car riding by and I as a glanced up, it was a
Gainesville Police car riding by us, looking me right in my eyes as we both seemed frozen with
confusion. It felt like I was in a dream or a movie. This couldn’t be real. But this was as real as it
gets. A real life movie, and I was the star.
It was an officer that had been after me for years. In the streets we called him Red Head. He rode by
real slow just watching us, but my gun was already cocked and ready so he didn’t dare to stop. I
watched him get on his radio and call in for back up. We let the nigga go and I ran and threw the heat
in the trunk and told my niggas to come on. As I pulled back out onto the street, I saw the cop car
doing a u-turn with his flashing lights and siren on. I mashed the gas as hard as I can and ran the stop
light while sliding out bending a hard right onto the main highway. A fire truck must have heard the
call the cop put out over the radio and tried to cut me off. I sped through traffic like a professional
stunt driver. It didn’t take me long to lose the cop that was coming behind me because I had plenty of
experience due to our stolen car ring that we started a few years prior to this. Everything was a blur
but I didn’t panic. Remaining calm under pressure and in crisis moments was one of my greatest
assets. Before I knew it we had slung that big ass Cadillac into an apartment complex that was small
and ducked off from the highway. It was fenced in and everybody that lived out there either sold or
smoked dope. We all jumped out and kicked the door in of one of the empty apartments. I began to
split up the money while I barked out my orders. “Listen bro, ya’ll leave out the back and walk in
different directions. Split up and just walk do not run!!!! We’ll link up later. If you get stopped don’t
say shit. If we make it home we good.” They went out one at a time sliding out of back doors and
windows of the old apartment. I could hear all of the sirens and police cars zooming by. I knew they
were looking for us. I knew the cop had seen what I was wearing and I knew he had seen my car.
I walked out of the front door while everyone in the neighborhood was outside looking and
wondering what was going on. They stared at me but they all knew who I was. Yeah, I was that
nigga. I spotted a rock head that bought dope from me and I called him over to where I was. I put my
arm around him and whispered in his ear as we walked. “Nigga look, take my keys and get them guns
out of the trunk of my car. I’ll be back tonight with the police and all you say is you seen 4 unknown
niggas jump out of my car and run. Tell them one was fat, one was tall, and one had dreads. Do NOT
tell them you seen me because I’m about to call them and tell them that I got car jacked. Do that for
me and I got $100 and some dope for you but get the guns out and hide them and hold my keys. You
got it?” He said yes and I walked out of the front gate of the neighborhood. I heard the police
helicopter buzzing through the air. I knew I had to make it somewhere to #1. Change clothes and #2.
Call the cops and tell them I had just been car jacked. That was my plan and I was sticking with that.
As I approached the end of the street I saw Chuck, my barber. I flagged him down and jumped into
his back seat. Chuck was a straight laced dude but he grew up in Porters, another gutta neighborhood
where I sold my dope in Gainesville. I began to tell him what happened. “Man I just got in a lil
situation and I need you to drop me off to my mom’s job at the store on Lakeroad. Here, hold this
cash for me and I’ll get it from you or send somebody to pick it up for me”. He said cool and drove
me towards Lakeroad. As I sat in the back seat thinking about what to tell the cops, I noticed a yellow
T-shirt on the floor so I snatched off the red shirt that I knew the cop seen me in and put on the
yellow one I had on while robbing that nigga.
We pulled up to the convenience store that my mother worked , but she wasn’t there. I got out and
Chuck slid off. I walked to the phone booth and sat there for a minute to think. I ripped my shirt, bit
my lip to make it bleed, and rolled around in the dirt to make it look like I had been beat up. I put
some dirt in my hair and called 911. The operator picked up and asked me what was my emergency?
“Yes, my name is Eric and I just been robbed and car jacked!!! “Sir, are you hurt, do you need an
ambulance?” Yes please hurry, they beat me with a sawed off shotgun and took my car!!! It’s a
brown four door Cadillac with chrome spoke rims and gold trimming!!! Please hurry!!!”
It took about 3 minutes for the ambulance to get there, along with 10 police cars and 5 undercover
detectives. They loaded me into the ambulance with and I.V. in my arm and shot me up with pain
medication. I looked up and seen a line of cop cars following the ambulance. The sun was about to go
down, and I knew then that it was about to be a very, long, night.
They continued to question me until around 2 a.m. About the robbery. The officer that road by and
seen me with the sawed off shotgun couldn't pick me out of a photo lineup. And neither could the guy
that we had robbed so I just stuck with my story and said that I had been robbed and car jacked. I
stuck to my story and eventually they had no choice but to let me go. I called a ride to pick me up
from the police station and went straight to the projects where I had hidden my car. I found the
crackhead named John that had my car keys. I got my keys and went straight to the trunk, and
wouldn't you know all the guns were still in there. He never took them out. After I removed the guns
from the trunk I called the detective back that was questioning me. I told him that a friend of my
mothers saw my car in the neighborhood and called her to say that it was left there with all the
windows let down. He told me that he was on the way so I set there with the crackhead and rehearsed
the story about that we were going to tell when the detective got there. I told him to say that he had
seen some guys jump out of my car. When thw detective got there it was about 4 a.m. He asked
crackhead John what he seen. He said, "yes sir officer, I seen 4 guys jump out of this car and ran out
of the neighborhood late last night". The detective looked at me and said, "Eric, just tell us the damn
truth, it was a dope deal give bad wasn't it"? I stood there and looked at him for a second. "Yes sir,
that's exactly what it was. Those guys were trying to buy some dope from me and pulled out guns and
robbed me. They took my car and all of my money and dope". He shook his and said, "well why in
the hell didn't you just say that"! They finger printed my car and let me take it home. I couldn't
believe that I had just gotten away with an armed robbery, that a police officer seen me do with his
own eyes. The guy we robbed was afraid to pick me out of a photo line up and the officer was a little
to far away to see my face. He did see the color of my shirt but I had changed into a different color
shirt when I jumped into the back seat of Chucks car after the robbery. That probably saved me from
a lengthy prison sentence. There is no way to explain it. The next day it was on the front page of the
newspaper and on the local news. The story was that I had been carjacked and they were looking for
four black males. At that time, I attributed my escape to luck, but deep down I knew that there had to
be some force at work beyond the scope of my understanding. I knew that God had a purpose for my
life. The problem was that I was too busy trying to do things my way.
It was a hot day in August. A few of my old friends wanted to ride around that afternoon so we could
get drunk and smoke weed. I was 19 years old and the only thing on my mind was getting money by
any means. That’s all I thought about day in and day out. And whatever I did, even if I’m just riding
around in chill mode, I was thinking of my next big payday. Growing up in the hood had gotten the
best of me. I had just bought me a 1986 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham. It was tricked out with a
wood grain candy paint, 30 spoke rims, gold grille, and music so loud that it knocked my rearview
off. My boys always wanted to ride with me, even if I was just going to the store and back. A car like
that with rims and music was rare for niggas in my age group. Most of us were still living at home
with our mothers, robbing, stealing cars, selling dope, or doing home invasions. It was fun and easy
to us. As for me , I was doing all of the above. Always lurking for that next dollar. And I was one of
the few that was successful. Mainly because I was smart when it came to doing dirt. But don’t get it
twisted , I was dirty as hell. To me, there were no rules to the streets. I would pistol whip, shoot, and
torture niggas if I felt enough money was involved. So as we rode around in my Caddy, listening to
Tupac "Shed So Many Tears", passing blunt after blunt, letting the a/c blow. We turned down 5th
Ave. And rode by a local hangout called Fletcher’s Bar. While I sat at the light, about a block away
from the police headquarters, I saw a man that I knew from buying dope from me, but I didn’t know
his name. He saw my car and started flagging me so I rolled my window down as he stumbled
towards me. He was clearly drunk. He walked towards my car from the sidewalk and stuck his head
in my window and said he wanted to buy some crack. That was nothing new because 5th Ave. was a
dope stroll. I told him that I had to go and get it cause I didn’t ride around like that , I told him that if
I did that he had to spend big. He asked me, “ how much for an ounce”? , as he pulled out a big stack
of hundreds and fifties out of his front pocket. Back then , in 1995, ounces of crack went for around
$600 to $750. I told him to wait out in front of Fletcher’s until I came back. I pulled off with dollar
signs in my eyes, but I wasn’t about to sell him no dope.
“We about to rob this nigga”, I told my homeboys as I turned the music down. They knew I was a
gutta ass nigga that was always plotting. But what they didn’t know is that the trunk was full of guns.
My best friend Weez asked, “E you got some fire"? I just looked at him and smiled with an evil grin.
See me, I was always the ring leader because I stayed three steps ahead of the game and the other
niggas that was in it. I circled around the block a few times then pulled back up to Fletcher’s and told
dude to get in the back. Poochie got out so he could sit in the middle of the back seat. My mind was
moving fast while my heartbeat was slow and cold. I pulled my car in the back of an old bank that
had been closed down for years. It was just off of a main highway through town but out of site on a
one way street. We all got out and I told him to walk to the trunk. I didn’t even have to tell my boys
what to do. When I opened the trunk, they instantly grabbed him from both sides and slammed him
against the wall. The impact busted the back of his head open. Blooded rolled down the back of his
neck as he begged me not to hurt him. As I came up out the trunk, I whipped around cocking my
sawed off 12gauge shotgun. It was all black and had a rubber pistol grip, a gold trigger, and a gold
sight on the tip of the barrel. I shoved the barrel in his face real hard while talking in a real low voice.
“Nigga I want every dime in your pocket or I’m about to paint this wall with your ugly ass face”!!!
Two of my niggas had him pinned against the wall while Weez went into his pockets and got the
money. He put the money in my pocket while I still had the sawed off in his face. At that very
moment, out of the corner of my eye, I seen a white car riding by and I as a glanced up, it was a
Gainesville Police car riding by us, looking me right in my eyes as we both seemed frozen with
confusion. It felt like I was in a dream or a movie. This couldn’t be real. But this was as real as it
gets. A real life movie, and I was the star.
It was an officer that had been after me for years. In the streets we called him Red Head. He rode by
real slow just watching us, but my gun was already cocked and ready so he didn’t dare to stop. I
watched him get on his radio and call in for back up. We let the nigga go and I ran and threw the heat
in the trunk and told my niggas to come on. As I pulled back out onto the street, I saw the cop car
doing a u-turn with his flashing lights and siren on. I mashed the gas as hard as I can and ran the stop
light while sliding out bending a hard right onto the main highway. A fire truck must have heard the
call the cop put out over the radio and tried to cut me off. I sped through traffic like a professional
stunt driver. It didn’t take me long to lose the cop that was coming behind me because I had plenty of
experience due to our stolen car ring that we started a few years prior to this. Everything was a blur
but I didn’t panic. Remaining calm under pressure and in crisis moments was one of my greatest
assets. Before I knew it we had slung that big ass Cadillac into an apartment complex that was small
and ducked off from the highway. It was fenced in and everybody that lived out there either sold or
smoked dope. We all jumped out and kicked the door in of one of the empty apartments. I began to
split up the money while I barked out my orders. “Listen bro, ya’ll leave out the back and walk in
different directions. Split up and just walk do not run!!!! We’ll link up later. If you get stopped don’t
say shit. If we make it home we good.” They went out one at a time sliding out of back doors and
windows of the old apartment. I could hear all of the sirens and police cars zooming by. I knew they
were looking for us. I knew the cop had seen what I was wearing and I knew he had seen my car.
I walked out of the front door while everyone in the neighborhood was outside looking and
wondering what was going on. They stared at me but they all knew who I was. Yeah, I was that
nigga. I spotted a rock head that bought dope from me and I called him over to where I was. I put my
arm around him and whispered in his ear as we walked. “Nigga look, take my keys and get them guns
out of the trunk of my car. I’ll be back tonight with the police and all you say is you seen 4 unknown
niggas jump out of my car and run. Tell them one was fat, one was tall, and one had dreads. Do NOT
tell them you seen me because I’m about to call them and tell them that I got car jacked. Do that for
me and I got $100 and some dope for you but get the guns out and hide them and hold my keys. You
got it?” He said yes and I walked out of the front gate of the neighborhood. I heard the police
helicopter buzzing through the air. I knew I had to make it somewhere to #1. Change clothes and #2.
Call the cops and tell them I had just been car jacked. That was my plan and I was sticking with that.
As I approached the end of the street I saw Chuck, my barber. I flagged him down and jumped into
his back seat. Chuck was a straight laced dude but he grew up in Porters, another gutta neighborhood
where I sold my dope in Gainesville. I began to tell him what happened. “Man I just got in a lil
situation and I need you to drop me off to my mom’s job at the store on Lakeroad. Here, hold this
cash for me and I’ll get it from you or send somebody to pick it up for me”. He said cool and drove
me towards Lakeroad. As I sat in the back seat thinking about what to tell the cops, I noticed a yellow
T-shirt on the floor so I snatched off the red shirt that I knew the cop seen me in and put on the
yellow one I had on while robbing that nigga.
We pulled up to the convenience store that my mother worked , but she wasn’t there. I got out and
Chuck slid off. I walked to the phone booth and sat there for a minute to think. I ripped my shirt, bit
my lip to make it bleed, and rolled around in the dirt to make it look like I had been beat up. I put
some dirt in my hair and called 911. The operator picked up and asked me what was my emergency?
“Yes, my name is Eric and I just been robbed and car jacked!!! “Sir, are you hurt, do you need an
ambulance?” Yes please hurry, they beat me with a sawed off shotgun and took my car!!! It’s a
brown four door Cadillac with chrome spoke rims and gold trimming!!! Please hurry!!!”
It took about 3 minutes for the ambulance to get there, along with 10 police cars and 5 undercover
detectives. They loaded me into the ambulance with and I.V. in my arm and shot me up with pain
medication. I looked up and seen a line of cop cars following the ambulance. The sun was about to go
down, and I knew then that it was about to be a very, long, night.
They continued to question me until around 2 a.m. About the robbery. The officer that road by and
seen me with the sawed off shotgun couldn't pick me out of a photo lineup. And neither could the guy
that we had robbed so I just stuck with my story and said that I had been robbed and car jacked. I
stuck to my story and eventually they had no choice but to let me go. I called a ride to pick me up
from the police station and went straight to the projects where I had hidden my car. I found the
crackhead named John that had my car keys. I got my keys and went straight to the trunk, and
wouldn't you know all the guns were still in there. He never took them out. After I removed the guns
from the trunk I called the detective back that was questioning me. I told him that a friend of my
mothers saw my car in the neighborhood and called her to say that it was left there with all the
windows let down. He told me that he was on the way so I set there with the crackhead and rehearsed
the story about that we were going to tell when the detective got there. I told him to say that he had
seen some guys jump out of my car. When thw detective got there it was about 4 a.m. He asked
crackhead John what he seen. He said, "yes sir officer, I seen 4 guys jump out of this car and ran out
of the neighborhood late last night". The detective looked at me and said, "Eric, just tell us the damn
truth, it was a dope deal give bad wasn't it"? I stood there and looked at him for a second. "Yes sir,
that's exactly what it was. Those guys were trying to buy some dope from me and pulled out guns and
robbed me. They took my car and all of my money and dope". He shook his and said, "well why in
the hell didn't you just say that"! They finger printed my car and let me take it home. I couldn't
believe that I had just gotten away with an armed robbery, that a police officer seen me do with his
own eyes. The guy we robbed was afraid to pick me out of a photo line up and the officer was a little
to far away to see my face. He did see the color of my shirt but I had changed into a different color
shirt when I jumped into the back seat of Chucks car after the robbery. That probably saved me from
a lengthy prison sentence. There is no way to explain it. The next day it was on the front page of the
newspaper and on the local news. The story was that I had been carjacked and they were looking for
four black males. At that time, I attributed my escape to luck, but deep down I knew that there had to
be some force at work beyond the scope of my understanding. I knew that God had a purpose for my
life. The problem was that I was too busy trying to do things my way.
This is dummy text. It is not meant to be read. Accordingly, it is difficult to figure out when to end it. But then, this is dummy text. It is not meant to be read. Period.
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