Moral Dilemma

Some people think everything happens for a reason. If anyone had an excuse to doubt that aphorism, Maya Jackson was certainly one. It wasn’t television that taught her about violence, she saw it with her own eyes. Her daddy was no good at sticking around, so her mother worked two jobs to make ends meet.

Aside from the normal struggles of a black family in America, the Jacksons were relatively happy. They never had much but felt like they never needed much either. Maya’s father split when she was only 18 months old, so she had no memory of him. Instead, she looked up to her brother James. He was only 4 years older than her, but in many ways he was the man of the house.

Despite growing up in a low-income apartment complex in East LA, James resisted the allure of joining a local gang like many other boys his age. The dangers of thug-life would be no match for momma’s scorn if he ever got mixed up in that crowd. Besides, momma worked too hard for him to throw away his potential.

Maya’s life forever changed when she was 11 years old. One evening as her and her family left a late dinner at King Taco, they were approached by an aggressive young man in the parking lot. His baggy jeans hung low and a white bandana concealed the bottom half of his face. His arms and hands were covered in tattoos but all eyes were focused on the shiny revolver in his clasp.

He pointed the gun and shouted, “Gimme your fuckin’ money!” Maya and James froze. Their mom corralled both kids behind her to shield them from danger. “Hurry bitch! Gimme your fuckin’ money ‘fore I kill you, know ‘m sayin!”

Maya was terrified. James too was afraid, but a wave of courage arose in him. He felt like it was his job to protect the family. He looked the assailant up and down. Hispanic male, probably 18-20 years of age. The gold chains and tattoos quickly became recognizable to him. He was clearly a member of the local White Fence gang.

Their mother nervously scrounged through her purse looking to surrender her wallet. James waited until the mugger glanced away then sprang for the gun. He missed so the startled gunman fired two shots into James’ chest. The mother shrieked and lunged at the attacker. Two more shots rang out hitting her once in the chest and once in the jaw under her left ear.

The gunman grabbed the purse and fled, leaving Maya alone with her family bleeding out on the pavement. Both were pronounced dead on the scene by the paramedics who arrived shortly before LAPD.

Childhood trauma often spoils the likelihood of future happiness. But Maya was one of those remarkable individuals who did not let her tragic past dictate her destiny. After the funeral she dedicated her life to stopping bad guys from hurting good people. She decided that she was going to become a police officer when she was older.

After the shooting Maya was immediately taken in by her grandmother. She looked after Maya until she graduated high school.

Taking after her momma’s example, Maya worked two jobs during the summer to help pay for college. She enrolled in classes at the local community college. The surest way to achieve her dream was to get an associates degree in criminal justice and then enroll into the academy.

Making it through the California Police Academy was a grueling 6 months, but Maya was determined. She finished 3rd in her graduating class (though one wonders if she might’ve finished best overall had she not been a female minority).

Fresh out of the academy, she was assigned to patrol the Gardena area, just west of Compton. Her assigned partner was a man named Louis Perez, but he insisted on being called “Louie”. Louie was a former marine which gave him good police instincts, but his mild dyslexia and hatred for paperwork prevented him from working his way up the ranks.

Twice a week Maya would spend her evenings working overtime as additional security at the Hustler’s Casino off Vermont Ave. It was normally an easy gig aside from the occasional drunk-&-disorderlies she’d have to handle. Louie had a family so Maya usually worked this gig by herself.

One evening, Maya was looking forward to her overtime shift. Her and Louie had a particularly easy day on patrol, so Maya was in a good mood. She had the next two days off and hoped this final stretch would be uneventful.

She wasn’t allowed to drink alcohol while on the job, but the casino pit boss made sure the bartender gave her whatever soft drink she wanted while on duty. It was a small perk but Maya looked forward to it.

Maya had roughly 2 hours left to go on her shift. She was ready to enjoy the next two days relaxing and catching up on her Netflix shows with her cat and favorite pair of sweatpants. It was a quiet evening until four men walked into the casino. She could tell immediately they were likely gangbangers.

Maya set her soda down on the bar and circled around behind them. She hung back a good 15 yards because she didn’t want to provoke anything, but also wanted to be close enough to respond in case they were looking for trouble.

They went to the bar first and ordered a round of tequila shots and beers. They paid their tab in cash and ignored the other patrons in the bar. So far so good. Maya kept a close eye on the four as they moved over to the blackjack table. She studied the way each of them sat in the casino chairs trying to identify any signs of concealed firearms, but the baggy clothing made it impossible to tell.

They played for roughly an hour without causing any problems. Three of them got bored and left the casino, but one stayed back. He was on a pretty bad losing streak and grew increasingly agitated and unquiet with each losing hand. The dealer was an attractive Asian woman in her late thirties. Her broken English bothered the hoodlum, so he found creative ways of telling her so in between losing hands.

Finally he ran out cash, so he abruptly stood up muttering a mixture of English and Spanish curse words. That alone might’ve been enough to get him tossed out by security, but he was clearly leaving so they held back in the hopes that he’d just walk out without any further incident.

Aside from pausing under the large crystal chandelier to light a cigarette, he made his way to the front doors. Since he was now by himself, Maya felt better about following him outside into the parking lot just to make sure that he left the premises.

After flicking his cigarette butt at the marble tiger statues under the front canopy, all the beers and cocktails caught up to him, and he realized he needed to pee. Instead of going back inside to find a restroom, he decided to avenge his losses by relieving himself on the side of the building.

That was enough for Maya. She approached and ordered him to put his hands up. He turned, and with the free hand not directing his urine stream, he raised his middle finger and replied “Fuck you mutha fucker!”

Perhaps it was because he was a little drunk, or maybe because he still had his dick in his hands, but Maya had rushed in and slammed him against the wall before he knew what hit him.

“You’re under arrest” Maya calmly stated as she tried wrestling his hands behind his back. He resisted up to the point where Maya deployed her taser, dropping him to the ground. She cuffed his hands behind his back and began patting him down for weapons.

She predictably found a handgun tucked into his belt and radioed in the arrest. While waiting for backup she continued her search and discovered a small black notebook in his back pocket. She opened it up and thumbed through the pages. It was filled with names and various calculations. She assumed it had to be some sort of ledger for drug distributions.

“[Ugh] Fuck you puta bitch. You take that from me and I’m gonna kill you, know ‘m sayin?”

Suddenly Maya felt like an 11 year old girl once again. Memories of being held up at gunpoint flooded her mind. Rage began to well up inside of her. She grit her teeth and swallowed the lump in her throat as she listened to this thug drunkenly mumble on the ground. She remembered the lives that were stolen away from her brave momma and courageous brother.

Maya wanted revenge for the family that was taken from her. Part of her wanted to shoot this piece of shit three times in the chest and once in the jaw under his left ear. “It's the kind of death that he deserves, not James and Momma” she thought to herself. But she couldn’t do that. She’s no murderer.

As she wiped away the single tear running down her cheek, she flipped through the black notebook again. This time one page caught her eye. It said “LAX Locker 301. Combo 943177.” It was then that she heard the sirens from the backup squad car just around the corner.

Something rushed over Maya that she would’ve never predicted. She quickly tore that page out and shoved the notebook back into the perp’s back pocket. Discreetly, she crumpled the page and slid it into her vest pocket. Backup helped make the arrest and once they drove off Maya left for home.

She had trouble sleeping that night. She wasn’t rattled as much by the gangster or the memories of her murdered family--Maya was scared that she just broke the law. She wondered if stealing that page constituted obstruction of justice or tampering with evidence. Trying to watch her Netflix shows the next day as a distraction wasn’t working, so Maya put on her police uniform and headed to the airport. She knew that law enforcement could meander around without arousing suspicion.

Maya casually walked through the luggage locker area to see if there were any unsavory characters lurking around. She hung around there for about 20 minutes until she was the only one nearby. She rushed over to locker 301 and entered the combination. She could feel her heart beating in her throat. A rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins when she heard the mechanism click.

Maya had unlocked the door. She pulled it open to find a small gym bag. Maya paused and looked over both shoulders to ensure that she was still alone. She unzipped the bag and her police instincts kicked in as she saw a stash of handguns, white powder in ziplock baggies, and a small sum of cash.

Travelers began approaching so she grabbed the cash, zipped the bag, and quickly closed the locker door. Maya slid the wad of bills into her pocket and inconspicuously walked out of the airport. She nervously sat in her parked car for 30 minutes vigilantly watching to make sure nobody followed her. Eventually she turned the ignition and returned home.

It took Maya a good hour sitting alone in her apartment before she mustered the courage to count the money she had taken. She broke the silence and uttered in disbelief, “Twenty thousand dollars.”

Part of her felt guilty for taking something that wasn’t hers. But she recalled something she loved was unjustly taken from her. Perhaps this was the universe’s way helping to ease her suffering and reward her for the life she built.

A smile stretched across her face. Maya looked at her cat and stated “I guess everything happens for a reason.”