America 1982-Chapter 276 - 9: The Arrival of Earl Rash_2

"The Bible says, ’What thou askest of me, I shall grant,’" Tommy let out a light-hearted laugh, his face became even brighter than the sunshine outside the window in an instant. He turned to Delia and asked: 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

"Where is he? I can’t wait to meet this high-level black man."

"He? Maybe he’s defending black criminals in court, gaining fame... and cash." Delia snuffed out her cigarette butt on the glass, leaving an unsightly ash stain, "He’s not just greedy with you, he’s like that with everyone. Sometimes he seems rather unattractive, like this ash stain. I’m also curious, why do you want to find a black man like him, when you could get a loyal black manager who is willing to be your puppet and obey you?"

"I’m not looking for a puppet, I’m looking for an opportunity," Tommy stretched out his finger and gently wiped off the cigarette stain, making the window clean again.

...

After taking his seat in the back of his Ford business sedan, Earl Rash first took out a small, exquisite bottle and shook out a few prescription pills, which he swallowed with bottled water. He then turned to his white driver and bodyguard, Charlie, who was gripping the steering wheel with both hands, waiting for his orders, and said:

"Charlie, take me to Fruitvale, I have to see Russell of BGF."

The driver started the car, taking Earl to the black community in Oakland. BGF, short for Black Guerrilla Family, was a black street organization formed in California in 1966. Like the Black Panther Party, it was a product of the black civil rights movement. However, this organization was entirely different from the Black Panther Party; they had no ideological agenda, only pure violence, and they were known for robbing and drug dealing under the banner of black civil rights. Ironically, the people they killed the most were other black people.

This was one reason why the Black Panther Party was eradicated early on, whereas the Black Guerrilla Family grew from just over fifty members to thousands today.

As long as they didn’t purchase stacks of the English version of "Selected Works of Mao Tse-tung" more than weapons and ammunition, almost every one of them owning a copy, and chanting Marxism-Leninism slogans like ending capitalism’s plunder of America – slogans that terrified conscientious American capitalists – then a little robbery, drug dealing, and killing of the innocent were all just minor issues to the white masters of the United States Government that could be tolerated and understood.

Fruitvale, an old black neighborhood in Oakland, felt like entering another world as soon as the vehicle drove into the area. The walls by the streets were sprayed with nonsensical graffiti, and groups of black people hung around on the streets, their dull yet greedy eyes sizing up this business luxury car that seemed out of place in their neighborhood. Some even slowly followed behind the car, curious as to where it would stop.

After driving a few hundred meters along the road, Charlie parked the car by the roadside. Earl didn’t ask Charlie to get out and open the door for him; instead, he got out on his own and walked towards a two-story residential house. Five or six black men gathered outside the door smiled as they saw Earl, and the leader, a burly man with sleep in his eyes, heartily opened his arms:

"Earl, I..."

"Hey~ don’t touch me! This is an Armani suit handcrafted, even if you wiped out everyone in this whole street and took their money, it wouldn’t be enough to buy this one suit I’m wearing! Keep an eye on my car; I don’t want to come out after talking with Russell to find that Charlie and the car have vanished!" Earl brushed off the warm welcome impatiently.

A black man eagerly opened the door for him, and Earl walked in, loosening his tie. As he entered, the pungent mix of hemp, alcohol, and sweat made him involuntarily tilt his head back.

"Earl, my dear brother, angel of the black people, every time I see you..." At that moment, a muscular black man with a bare torso stood up from the couch in the middle of the living room, smiling as he began to speak. Beside him were several handguns with the safeties off.

Seven or eight black men were scattered in every corner of the living room, eyeing Earl Rash, who, in his suit and shoes, looked completely different from them.

"Russell, I hope the reason you asked me to come here was just for a drink, you understand?" Earl said, looking discontentedly at Russell, the BGF leader of the district, "Don’t ever..."

"Malcolm’s been arrested, Earl, you’ve got to help him." Before Earl could finish speaking, Russell had taken the initiative to state the reason for the request.

Earl Rash turned away irritably, "What’s the point of the United States Government appointing public defenders, Russell? To provide basic defense for those who don’t want to pay. I’m a high-profile lawyer, do you know what that means? Without enough cash, don’t expect me to stand in court to help you. You black guys are always like this. What do I look like to you? The free lawyer for all black people in America? What did that black thug named Malcolm do?"

"Nothing much, he borrowed a sum of money in the names of his mother, sister, aunt, etc., from the three big Jack brothers in Los Angeles, got a batch of goods, and started doing business. That guy had brains, we also lent him money to expand. But that bastard got caught last week driving his girlfriend’s car with the goods – they found ten kilos of crack in the car," Russell said as he went to the fridge, took out two cans of beer, opened one for Earl, and started explaining the situation.