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| The murder scene of Tabyis Paskins (8.3.16). Photo: |
On Wednesday,
August 3, 2016 a 19-year-old named Tabyis Paskins was gunned down on his bike in
a senseless but common act of youth violence in north Minneapolis. As his
mother grieved for her son at a
vigil late Wednesday of Penn Avenue North and 25th, I wondered about
Tabyis and the life he might have. I dedicated to all of the children who have
lost their life in Minneapolis’ White Lie. This piece is written as if Tabyis
is talking to us…
Fiction by Don Allen
…It was supposed to be an
nice summer morning; the buses running down Penn, the fine ladies heading to
work downtown, and us waiting for the liquor store to open – hanging out with my boys, hitting the blunt
and riding around the neighborhood. Ain’t none of us got no jobs, that’s why
we’s got to hustle. Mom’s moved us up here from Peoria, Ill. She said we needed
a fresh start – away from all the bullshit in Peoria. I wasn’t going to school
anyway – that shit is whack; them white teachers don’t care about no niggers. In
the “Mini,” was all about hanging with my boys around here and in the “Paul,” -
the ones who got my back, not them turncoats who can’t smoke the African bush,
or puff the Ace…Mok gets too high and was pushing up on Clyde’s sister in the
basement. Pop’s came down and Mok tried to fight him…we can’t hang there
anymore.
Wednesday morning should
have been easy; we were going after this mark. It was an easy score; Mok, Clyde
and me could make some quick loot.
It’s not that hard for
things to go wrong; it happens a lot over north. Last week my boys got shot at
by a bunch of different niggas. Didn’t none of them die, but damn, they shot at
them right in front of they mom’s crib; that’s ratchet cuz. If you got heat
with one of your boys, you ain’t ‘pose to try and shot him and his
mom’s.
Coming up - Part 2: My Environment
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