Mister Jesse is in his late fifties, short, stocky and dark of skin. He habitually wears a black ball cap and white polo shirt above his dark slacks. He and his wife both work fulltime but still have a hard time making ends meet. So he ‘hacks’, which means he operated his new metallic KIA 4-door as an unlicensed cab. Unlicensed cabs, outside of the tourist area, account for more fares than licensed cabs, which are all run by Africans, Pakistanis, and other foreigners with poor English and little knowledge of the area, dependent on GPS directions, and often getting lost. Hence many locals prefer hacks—usually older black men with an intimate knowledge of the neighborhood and excellent English.

Local supermarkets even license some of these guys themselves and call them ‘courtesy drivers’ so that their customers can get home before their groceries melt. The stipulation is that the hack may not charge a rate, and must take what is offered by way of compensation.

Jesse got off of work on Tuesday evening, picked his wife up and drove her home, and then went into West Baltimore to get some of the fat fares for hauling food stamp orders home for mothers and grandmothers.

Jesse remembers what it was like to be a young man ‘back in the day’ when white cabbies would not pick a black man up, so makes sure to give current young black men a ride if they ask politely. He was waived over by two young fellows who were not wearing gang colors and were not dressed like hoodlums. They were about 18 to 19 years old.

They slid into the back seat. He put his arm across the back of the passenger seat and looked over his shoulder to ask the fellows where they were going, and found that the muzzle of a handgun—an automatic—was inches from his nose. The guy on the passenger side covered him with his pistol and said, “Get the fuck out or I’m blowin’ your face off.”

Mister Jesse got out of the car as the guy behind him did likewise and took his seat. They were speeding off before he even hit the sidewalk. Mister Jesse’s new car is gone.

Hackers like Mister Jesse have picked me up numerous times in snow storms and not even charged me, when the cabs and buses were off the road. And, just like a licensed cabbie who risks his life every time a man sits behind him, he paid the price, just not the highest one.