Mel is a white man in his early thirties who had been involved with selling pills up until his late 20s. He was two years “out of the game” and still in the Baltimore area when the following incident occurred. It may be that Tray was called on by a former associate to set him up as payback for leaving the drug trade.
I was getting a ride home from work. It was eight-thirty at night, in Essex. My buddy gets kind of nervous over the blue light when he lets me off and just rolls out of there. I have my Crown Royale [felt] bag in my [right] hand. As soon as I go to cross the street this cop pulls up, draws on me, and yells at me to empty my hand. I set the bag down in the street—it just had my money, stogies [cigarettes] and keys. Then I felt my pants falling down—why I didn’t have stuff in my pockets in the first place, because I ran out of the house without a belt. As I straightened up I pulled up my pants and he shot me, right through the hip. That was it—I was down. My shit just crumbled when that first slug ripped through me, and of course I know I fucked up—should have let the pants drop—and he lights me the fuck up on the ground. One round went through the left leg and opened the femoral artery, the other one went through the lower right leg, and the other one lodged against my spine [points to right lumbar].
Okay, I was no angel, but never fought the cops, didn’t have anything illegal on me and wasn’t doing anything wrong.
Who’s rioting for me?
Who’s rioting for my white ass?
Not that I would want that, 'cause it wouldn't be for me anyhow. But shit, at least Freddie Gray was dealing!
The cruddiest thing was they wouldn’t let my family see me. They knew I had been shot. But the cops were holding me for some shit they would not disclose and had the hospital lie to my family. For two fuckin’ weeks—pins in my legs—I’m under arrest in the fucking hospital.
No charges, nothing, not a fucking thing.
I’m lucky though. When I was younger I was into drugs, getting high, dealing. I had a friend three years back who got all fucked up and was ready to kill himself. The police were called about him being armed and being a danger to himself. He had the knife in his belt [right side]. When the cops got there they told him to raise his hands and he did and they shot him down dead in the street.
Who’s rioting for him?
Nobody’s rioting for him, because he’s the wrong color.
Thriving in Bad Places
