The day the CPOD Circus came to town. (standard:drama, 3987 words)
Author: Anonymous	Added: Jun 13 2004	Views/Reads: 3341/2282	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A group of kids stop drugs in their community.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

petit frame and pride in her job, made her somebody. 

In those days, Martha and I would rub her smooth tired feet when she
returned from work. At that time mother was virtuous, a real woman, and 
a real mother. A symbol of strength and confidence; she was an 
organizer, banker, decorator, warrior, diplomat, visionary, a life 
teller, and the world's greatest cook. Her deep smothering hugs gave us 
assurance to face another day. She smelled of spring flowers on Sunday 
mornings before church and cookie dough on Saturday afternoons. Now her 
body odor is foul and surrounds her like a shield. 

She forgets a lot. At times her mind wonders, and she stares into
blankness, looking at nothing and occasionally a tear would fall. It 
makes me wonder, could she be treasuring moments of days long past. 
Could it be she was looking back at her childhood perhaps? Recalling 
the school prom and the young dashing suitor, which so elegantly 
escorted her? These drugs are robbing her mind. They are siphoning her 
soul. This is a robber like no other. I could accept an honorable 
thief; some genetic charlatan like cancer that creeps in and claims 
residence upon brain cells, or selfishly siphons strength from already 
weakened lungs. This thief is bold and strong. Its mission is not only 
to steal, but also to ravish, and destroy. Whatever dignity was present 
is now gone. Labels like “Crack Whore” and “Sewer Slut” become her 
mantle. 

I cannot fight it anymore; so I watch, as this thief walks through my
life and take at will the things it desires and sift away the people I 
love.  Mama's long black lye straightened hair always covered Martha's 
face when she bent to kiss her.  Martha would flinch at the thick 
stench, which quickly enveloped her. Each time my mothers' thin, 
scarred arm reached and slowly pulled my head into her breasts and hugs 
me. She would whisper, “Jacob take care of your sister.”  Stepping 
back, I always closed her robe, to cover her naked body. Then quickly 
turned away and grabbed my coat, so not to bring attention to her 
shame, or mine.  Thinking maybe, one day she will be somebody again. 
Maybe, one day she will be free from this prison with invisible bars, 
and the cell of desolation, which has seized her mind, but I doubt it.  
At sixteen years old, I know it is time for me to try to make a 
difference. 

Making the phone call was not easy. When I called the Police, it was in
hopes they would find our parents and get help to them. My name is 
Jacob Wesley. My mother's name is Laura Jean Wesley, and my Father's 
name is David (Scratch) Wesley. If you are a cop reading this, then it 
worked. My parents will finally get the help they need. 

Our CPOD circus is formed. 

I and four other children in the projects, who are also tired,  standing
hopelessly by and doing nothing formed CPOD (Children of Parents on 
Drugs). Our plan is to stop the drugs, and simply bring about change so 
neighborhood kids can live a normal life. We realize it may just slow 
the drug traffic down, but maybe enough to make the difference. So 
varied in our ethnic makeup we are like a circus act. There is Jimmy 
Mayfield, a fifteen years old red haired, freckle-faced white kid who 
is a Wigger, a white kid that sounds black when he talks. His mom died 
last year of a bad Crack overdose. Both his dad and uncle are residents 
at ‘The Domain' Crack house on Cleveland Street in North Oakland. 

Arlene Nguyen a twelve years old chubby Asian lives in building B with
her uncle and aunt. The conditions are again, deplorable. She has two 
brothers who make Crack runs for the minor mules, which stand on the 
corners, sell and collect money. Her eleven years old friend Latesha 
Robertson, got us the inside information we needed to carry out this 
plan. She used to attend church at Majestic's with her Aunt Dessie, who 
is a member of the church's inner circle. 	Both of Latesha's parents 
are like mine, strung out junkies with no future. The last member of 
our tight little group is twelve years old Fernando Lopez. Like Arlene, 
his two brothers are also Crack runners. 

His sister Juanita is fifteen and hooking in downtown Oakland on Tenth
Street to feed the drug monkey that rides her back. Fernando's dad also 
died last year, and his mother is, freaked out on Ecstasy. To feed her 
drug habit she is also a midnight bedroom rider. By this writing, all 
of our younger brothers and sisters should be safe in Foster homes. As 
for the five of us, we will be gone on a crusade to other cities to try 
to do what we have done here. To form other CPOD's because there are 
too many like us in other cities. Flowers of the ghetto who are plucked 
and tossed away. 

There are two targets our sights. 

Our main target is Rudolph Auterio and his gang the East 9. His mansion
in the Piedmont Oakland hills overlooks the greater Bay Area with a 
breathtaking view. Rudolph rides through the ghetto of East Oakland 
distributing brand new mountain bikes and twenty-dollar bills to 
children. The children act as lookouts and sound warnings when they see 
approaching police. He gives their junkie parents hide away money, so 
the mules have a place to stash small supplies. One of Rudolph's main 
bankers is the neighbor to his left, the Reverend August Majestic. 
Reverend Majestic is St. James Heavenly Tower Church of God in Christ, 
Pastor and founder. The large brick church sits adjacent to the Bisby 
Foundry. 

On any sunny day, seven tall ornately decorated stained glass windows
send fingers of colored light reaching throughout the thousand seat 
church auditorium. Known to most people as Majestic, Reverend Magic, or 
Reverend M, he rules from a throne in the west corner of the church 
overlooking services. Loyal members of his inner circle handle most 
church affairs under his strict guidance. 

Ushers collect offerings of folding money and checks only, with no coins
allowed in the offering plates. Pastor Majestic declared anything other 
than checks or folding money an insult and sacrilege to God. Reverend 
M. became close friends with Rudolph six months after moving into the 
exclusive neighborhood, and launders most of Rudolph's drug profits 
through the church's bank account. With the church's thousand-member 
congregation, it is easy to accomplish. Majestic is our second target. 
He completes our plan. 

The one helping grownup hand we needed. 

Auterio's neighbor on the right, separated by a large vine engulfed
brick wall, is the home of Cecilia Martinez. Her mansion hosts the 
annual Policeman's Gold n' Silver Charity Ball. She is the most 
influential member of the Oakland City Council, director of the Alameda 
County Social Services, and sets on the board of Child Protective 
Services. Cecelia lost her daughter Maria to Crack some years ago, and 
her husband overdosed six months after. Attending Majestic's church is 
her way to sniff around. Confirming most of her suspicions about 
Rudolph and Majestic is a mission she will not give up until she 
gathers the proof she needs to bring them down. 

Despising Rudolph Auterio, she filed numerous complaints directly to
Oakland Police Chief David Reyes. Her accusations always became, 
shuffled to the bottom drawer of some rookie's desk drawer. This might 
also explain why the paid lookouts never see any police coming down the 
streets. We knew we needed a grown up to help us accomplish our plan, 
so she was elected. From what we have always heard, Ms Martinez is a 
person who can be trusted. I hope we are right. 

The first part of our plan is a safe haven for the children. 

Three weeks ago one late Sunday afternoon, we took our younger brother's
and sister's to Lake Merritt. We had them play, feed the ducks, laugh 
and have a day of fun. As the summer sunset began to fall, we watched 
carefully for Cecilia Martinez's cream white Mercedes Benz to come 
gliding down Grand Avenue.  We knew she was in route to Majestic's 
church. The children were prepped and ready to go. We walked with them 
up to Cecilia's mansion and snuck around the back to the pool house. 

We instructed the children to sit and watch TV until Cecilia came for
them. We kissed them and said our goodbyes. Latesha tacked our note to 
Cecilia's front door and we left.    The note read. ‘Miss Cecilia, we 
know that you are a good person who cares about children. In your pool 
house are nine of our younger brothers and sisters. All of their 
parents are Crack addicts. Can you please find good homes for them? 
Although we told them, will you let our brothers and sisters know how 
much we love and will miss them.'    CPOD's. The Children of Parents on 
Drugs 

The second part of the plan, we took the money. 

Reverend Majestic's church sits between the Bisby Foundry and the old
abandoned Oakland Cold Storage warehouse on the corner. There is a 
downstairs entrance through the church's kitchen pantry leading to a 
wide hallway sub basement to the foundry on one end and the cold 
storage on the other. Rudolph Auterio kept his money stashed in a 
locker waiting to be laundered through church collections and deposited 
in the church's bank account. 

In turn for a nice fee, the church would then make large contributions
to Auterio's so-called education foundation in the amounts agreed upon 
by the Reverend. This arrangement has benefited both men very well. The 
only members who had knowledge of this arrangement are the pastor's 
wife, Marcie, Lela the church secretary, and Latesha's Aunt Dessie 
Staples. 

The following Sunday evening, after church services, we came through a
broken window at the Bisby Foundry, walked through the sub basement, 
and found our way to the lockers at the Oakland Cold Storage. Auterio's 
locker sat nestled against the back wall adjacent to two other 
padlocked lockers. It took the combined strength of the boys using the 
bolt cutters to snap the locks open. In the center of Auterio's locker 
sat a large cardboard box on a pallet, containing neat rows of banded 
currency in assorted denominations stacked to the top. Jimmy pulled out 
a long blue cardboard sleeve and tossed it to the side, along with 
other colored pieces of paper. When I had asked him what it was, he 
shrugged his shoulders and said, “Nothing. It ain't money so it doesn't 
matter.” He quipped. 

Latesha crossed her arms and frowned. “How are we going to move this
box? It is too heavy to drag out of here. And besides with the foundry 
furnace going full blast, it's hot down here.” “That's just a small 
secondary furnace,” I replied. “It burns twenty four hours a day. There 
is no fresh air coming in, which is why it is so hot down here. Jimmy, 
see that small window up there by the ledge, it leads to the alley. See 
if you can get it open. If not take a brick and break it. It won't make 
any noise because it's wired.” I had said to him. 

Jimmy found a brick and broke out the window. The rush of cooler air
carried away the swelter. We all breathed easier after that brief 
pause, and then I finished giving them the instructions. “Me, Jimmy, 
and Fernando will fill up these gunny sacks, you and Arlene will drag 
them to the other side and stack them and come back, until we empty 
this box.... so let's get started.” Latesha continued to complain; 
about the heat, the dust and everything else she could think of. The 
operation went smoother than anticipated. In filling the bags, we were 
careful to make them light enough for the girls to drag. We figured it 
to be a half million dollars or more in the box. 

Altogether, we loaded twelve sacks with money. After we emptied the
large box, all five of us climbed in to see if we could fit, we did and 
had room to spare.  Jimmy wondered where we were going to hide the bags 
once we got them out of the building. This is something I had not 
really thought about. The other lockers had nothing in them to do with 
the church or drugs. So we straightened up best we could to cover our 
tracks, and we headed out of the building. Our hardest task is still 
before us. 

Next, we had to hit Rudolph's drug stash but had to find it first. His
house had, been raided more times than a school hallway locker so we 
knew it was not there. To make matters worse we had to hit it before 
Wednesday night's church meeting. Wednesday is the night when Rudolph 
showed up at the church to get his exchange of money in the form of a 
cashiers check. The Reverend always makes it a big production. As we 
approached the point where we entered, I noticed something unusual. 
“Latesha, Arlene, where are the bags? You did not have to hide them. 
We're going to hide them some where on the outside.” I inquired of the 
now giggling girls. 

Arlene's eyes wandered and she drew little circles on the dirt floor
with her left foot. She was in a playful mood, again acting a lot 
younger than her age.  Then both girls started giggling. “Well, uh, 
Mmmmm” “Arlene, what did you girls do?” “We won't have to hide it 
anymore. It has been all taken care of Jacob. Besides those bags, were 
too heavy to drag this far. Let's face it, how were we possibly going 
to drag large bags of money through the streets of Oakland, and not get 
stopped?” Latesha boldly stated. “Ok, c'mon guys lets go get the bags. 
How far back are they? Don't remember seeing them on the way here.” 
Questioning them and, getting very impatient with their silliness, I 
stood waiting for an answer. 

Both girls pointed towards the secondary burning furnace. Throwing up my
arms I asked, “You've got to be kidding? No, you did not burn the 
money, did you? “Well not all of it.” Arlene said, holding up a stack 
of bills. It turned out to be about twenty thousand dollars. “It's get 
away money, see? We knew staying here in Oakland, is not an option.” 
Latesha added. Both girls got all their girlish laughter out, and 
became serious. Arlene said, “If we don't leave this city as soon as 
possible, when Rudolph and the Reverend find their money is gone, 
whether we find the drugs or not, we are as good as dead.” To the 
reader of this journal, that is what happened to the drug money. We did 
not steal it. Well, we took the twenty thousand to finance our journey, 
but nothing else. 

The third part of the plan, take the drugs. Finding and taking Rudolph
Auterio's drugs had to be a miracle sent from God. Tuesday night, we 
were hiding in the church underneath the back pews waiting for choir 
practice to end. We were going to search the kitchen pantry, and Pastor 
Majestic's office after everyone had left. If you recall last Tuesday 
night there was a nifty little earthquake. The quake was bad enough to 
shake things up and break some windows. It turned out that was the 
miracle we needed. 

We huddled underneath those long back pews until the quake ended.  After
the building stopped rattling, and things calmed down, checking to see 
if everyone was all right, I noticed Jimmy had some white powder on his 
back. Four of the long pews had zippered bottoms, which come undone 
during the earthquake and cut some of the bags of drugs stored there. 
Rudolph had bags of Cocaine, Marijuana, Pills, and Crack balloons 
stuffed under those pews.  Our group quickly emptied out the pews and 
wrapped everything into a couple of choir robes. 

“What are we going to do with this stuff?” Latesha had asked, knowing
what I was going to say. Laughing I had said, “Remember that furnace?” 
We did not have much time so we quickly made our way to the furnace and 
pitched the stuffed robes into the waiting inferno. Because of the 
earthquake, the good reverend and Rudolph would be on their way to the 
church to check on the money and drug stashes. It was a definite signal 
for us to disappear. 

The last part of the plan is CPOD moving on. 

Wednesday morning news coverage highlighted the earthquake. An
additional story came on about Reverend Majestic's church. The story 
focused on church money being, stolen during the quake. It turned out; 
the churches money and Rudolph's money were in the same box. They did 
not separate the honest money from the drug money. If our group had 
waited one more day, then all the money we took from the box would have 
been Rudolph's stash. Seems as though the long blue cardboard sleeve 
Jimmy had found between the money was a divider. They did not count the 
money yet. 

Although Rudolph and the Reverend were our targets, we primarily wanted
the Reverend to stop doing business with the drug dealer.  So burning 
the money worked out for the good anyway. Rudolph and the East 9 gang 
split up, or at least that is the rumor circulating throughout the 
hood. Word is, Rudolph had bought the drugs on consignment and is 
hiding some where in Utah. 

He owes some very angry people from Los Angeles a lot more money than
was burned. For now, the drug trade will come to a halt, or at least 
slow way down, and maybe, just maybe with Cecilia's help, the Morgan 
Projects will be changed.  Before we left, we put a calling card on 
Pastor Majestic's desk, and dropped one inside of the cardboard box in 
Rudolph's cold storage locker. Keep watching the news, because 
somewhere in the country, the unexplained funds and drugs of dealers 
will suddenly disappear, and you will know it is the, CPOD (Children of 
Parents on Drugs). Oh yeah, before I forget, we are not exactly alone. 
We needed another adult helping hand, who travels with us.” Lieutenant 
Cobb tore off the business card, taped to the back inside cover of the 
journal. It simply read in black letters against a solid white 
background...you've been visited by.... CPOD.  Have a nice life. 

“Hey Lieutenant Cobb, watcha got there?” An approaching police officer
inquired. “Nothing, it's nothing at all. Just something one of the 
kid's in the neighborhood wrote for me.” He replied. Lighting a 
cigarette, he stood and surveyed the crowd of onlookers, as if trying 
to find a familiar face. Then withdrew his cell phone and made a call. 

“Chief Reyes, you better call Cecilia, and Majestic, and have them get
in touch with Rudolph. I know what happened to the money and the drugs, 
and where we can start looking for the ones responsible. Once we find 
them, we can turn this thing around. I know exactly how we can get our 
money, drugs back, and more. ” He finished, and in anger tossed the 
journal on the front seat of his patrol car. 


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