So instead of taking that long-ass six-hour drive, I booked a flight back to Florida. Once I landed, I took an Uber straight to the jail to pick him up. Pedro had already told me his clothing sizes over the phone, so I stopped on the way to grab him a fresh set of clothes. It was nothing too fancy, but it looked pretty cool.
When he walked out of those gates, I dapped him up, and we got into the back of the Uber together.
“Good to see you free, my nigga,” I grinned, looking him over. “Finally out of the joint for that bullshit DUI, huh?”
“Yeah,” Pedro smiled, stretching his arms. “I did my time, and now I feel like I want to party. I was thinking we could go to a barcade, grab a few drinks, and play some games.”
“Bet. That sounds lit,” I said. “I definitely need some time off from work anyway.”
We ended up at a local barcade, and the place was loud. Neon lights were blinking, and retro arcade cabinets were humming all around us. We ordered a couple of beers, queued up at a classic fighting game cabinet, and spent the next hour button-mashing and talking shit. It felt good to just relax for a minute.
During a break between games, Pedro took a sip of his beer and leaned against the cabinet.
“So, how’s the business going, Rico?” he asked. “How you living?”
“Honestly? It’s pretty good,” I said, keeping my eyes on my screen. “I got the girl of my dreams back. I’m actually spending time with my new family now, and the darknet coke sales are doing great, too.”
I paused, my fingers hovering over the joystick.
“But it’s almost too good.”
Pedro blinked, looking confused. “What do you mean, too good? You’re stacking paper and you got your girl. What’s the issue?”
“Every time things go too well in my life,” I explained, letting out a slow sigh, “some major, catastrophic bullshit always pops up around the corner to fuck it up. It’s like a law of physics for me.”
Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, you’re just being paranoid, bro. You need to relax and enjoy the wins.”
“I’m not being paranoid,” I said, my voice dead serious. “I keep my head on a swivel twenty-four-seven, on God. In this life, you can’t ever let yourself get comfortable.”
I clicked the start button to queue up another round.
“Hell, when I finally get enough legal money to buy my own car, I’m going to install cameras all over that bitch,” I said. “Inside, outside, pointing in every direction. Just in case some dirty-ass cop tries to pull me over, set me up, or frame me. I don’t trust any of them.”
Pedro took another sip of his drink, shaking his head. “Man, the cops in this country are almost as dirty as the ones back in Brazil. I was watching the news recently and saw this bodycam case about a guy named Nathan Stephens in Kentucky. Some power-tripping cop claimed he smelled alcohol on him. The dude agreed to a breathalyzer, blew straight zeros, and passed all the roadside sobriety tests. But they threw his ass in the back of the cruiser and jailed him for a DUI anyway. Even when his blood work came back, his system was completely clean.”
“I don’t know about the laws back in Brazil,” I said, spinning my bottle on the wooden counter. “But under US law—specifically
Frazier v. Cupp
—the police are legally allowed to lie to you if you’re a suspect. And those field sobriety tests aren’t objective, either. They’re subjective impairment tests. It just means they use their own biased-ass opinions to say you’re under the influence. In reality, maybe you’re just tired, or maybe you just have bad eyes and can’t see shit.”
“That’s crazy,” Pedro muttered.
“And don’t even get me started on
Miranda v. Arizona
,” I said, leaning in. “They read you those rights, telling you 'you have the right to remain silent,' but they don’t tell you that shit isn’t automatic. There’s another Supreme Court case called
Salinas v. Texas
. It says you have to explicitly say you’re invoking the Fifth out loud for your silence to be protected.”
Pedro looked completely confused. “Bet. So pretend we’re in court, and you just keep your mouth shut, right? Don’t say a damn thing.”
I locked eyes with him and went completely silent. “...”
Pedro gestured toward me. “And then the prosecutor stands up and says, 'An innocent man would’ve denied it. An innocent man would’ve told us what we’re saying is a lie. But yet, he just sits there and stays silent.'”
“Exactly,” I nodded.
“Yo! That’s fucking bullshit!” Pedro gasped, his eyes popping out. “They can’t fucking do that!”
“Who says they can’t?” I laughed. “They can, and they do. Under
Salinas
, if you don’t verbally invoke your Fifth Amendment right, your silence is literally free game for the prosecutor to use as evidence of guilt.”
Pedro stared at me, completely stunned. “Why the fuck do you know so much about this shit?”
“Because a criminal who knows his rights is the hardest thing for them to catch,” I said, tapping my temple. “They can’t catch you legally if they catch you dirty. If they violate your rights, they have to throw the whole case out. So you gotta know the rules.”
Pedro let out a loud laugh, slapping me on the shoulder. He patted me on the back, his grin wide.
“Man,” Pedro said, shaking his head. “I knew I saw something in you, Rico. You’re not like these other street-level criminals or nobodies I’ve had to deal with. You’re actually smart, and you know your shit. I’m glad I made a friend like you in this place.”
I looked at him, taking a sip of my beer, and nodded.
“I’m happy we met, too, Pedro,” I said, setting the bottle down. “Out of most of the people I’ve had to deal with over the years, you’re one of the few real ones. Once I finish clearing up my debt for this bail, we definitely need to hang out more. Real shit.”
Pedro laughed, raising his bottle to mine. “Hell yeah, we definitely should. I’m always looking for someone to play
Halo
with anyway. It gets boring as hell sitting in that big safehouse all day by myself.”
“Bet,” I grinned. “But you still know you can’t fuck with me in
Street Fighter
, though.”
Pedro looked offended, his chest puffing out. “What?! I’ll destroy the fuck out of you with Akuma, nigga. Don’t even try me.”
“You’re a pussy for using overpowered characters,” I scoffed, pointing at the arcade cabinet across the floor. “I’ll whoop your ass using a basic-ass character like Ken or Ryu. On God.”
After we finished button-mashing on
Street Fighter
, we walked out of the barcade into the warm Florida night. I pulled out my phone and ordered both of us our rides. I booked an Uber to take me straight to the airport so I could catch my flight back to Tennessee, and I got another car to take Pedro to a local hotel where he could wait for his people to pick him up.
On the ride to the airport, I sat in the back seat, watching the highway lines blur past under the streetlights.
I thought about how I might be a little paranoid. But in my line of work, and with my history, there is absolutely nothing wrong with being safe.
If some major bullshit is eventually going to go off, I need to make the absolute most of the time I have left. I need to spend every moment I can with my mom and my new siblings. I need to cherish every single second with Jasmine and her two boys. My life is completely unpredictable right now. The trial is hanging over my head, and the feds are always sniffing around.
But as long as I’m out here? I’m going to make sure every single moment counts.