The Vanishing

1 Comacho

A red bandana hugged the head of the person handing a small package to the person who in turn was passing a hand full of cash back to his other hand. This was a scene being repeated in numerous dark corners or alleys throughout the city. Business was booming and Comacho controlled a lucrative part of the drug distribution business. He was not the biggest distributor. He was one of the toughest and in control of his distribution area, and he was raking in the money. He purposely kept a low profile and maintained good relations with his competitors by agreeing to the territory in which he distributed, and he gave a small cut of the take to keep the good relations greased. His adversaries also were very aware of his ruthlessness.

He knew he was destined to go to hell. He figured he might be able to pal around with the Devil. He planned to continue to be ruthless and to control those who worked for him. He had grown up as one of the Reds and had learned that strength and ruthlessness were the ingredients that let one survive in the harsh environment that he had been raised in.

He had no patience with those who hesitated to do as he commanded. He had personally shot and killed more than a dozen men and women. Yes women! They demanded equal treatment, and he gladly gave it to them. He had no patience for insubordination. When he ordered something, he expected immediate follow-through, and he usually got it.

There were two ways he handled those he decided to eliminate.

Regular offenders who would not pay out or distributors that encroached on his territory were taken care of by his hirelings.

For those more egregious offenders he had a special ceremony that he personally orchestrated. He would have a fifty-gallon barrel filled three quarters of the way with a chemical that was heavy on lye, and he would have his nude victim placed feet first into the barrel. Then he would ask the screaming individual to ask him to shoot and kill them. When they asked him to shoot, he would but he would shoot that person in the arm. Then he would ask the screaming individual to tell him where he should shoot. Often the request was in the head, sometimes through the heart. But he would not do it until he made the person say, “Please shoot me in the ---.” Often the legs of the individual would give out and he had to be held in the vertical position.

Once the individual was dead, he left the area after giving instructions to sink the body into the drum and then seal it.

The drum was filled to the very brim before sealing it so it would sink like a rock. He had the drum taken out to sea and ensured it would sink by adding additional weight to it.

Only one woman had suffered that fate. She was an assassin hired by a competitor drug dealer. She had been the toughest of the twelve that had stood in the barrel. When he asked her where he should shoot her, she had screamed “put the bullet in your head” and she had then she crouched down into the barrel and put her head under the chemical bath.

He had been amazed by her toughness she had not started to scream when placed into the barrel! He almost regretted that she had tried to kill him. He figured she might have been his soul mate. A vile soul mate from hell. “Oh, well,” he laughed as he thought about the Devil sending him a message.

He decided to kill the drug dealer that had hired her, to see if he would be as tough as she had been. He was not. He cried and screamed like a baby.

Ironically, the word got out about his having eliminated the female assassin and the drug dealer and he was charged with murder. He of course pleaded innocent. The problem for the prosecutor was that he did not have a body and was operating on hearsay. His lawyer and the prosecutor reached an agreement that if he left the state the case would be dropped.

He set up his second in command to run the drug distribution business. He wanted thirty per cent of the take to be sent to an offshore account.

He had no plans to stop distributing so he looked around to see where in the country he would set himself up.

He figured he needed to find a low-profile location but one that was well positioned geographically in the drug trade.

He looked north to Seattle and decided that it was not well located.

He looked to Chicago but realized that the battle between the Mafia and the Mexican cartels would put him in the middle between two powerful and deadly groups. That situation eliminated Chicago.

New York City was out because of the state’s focus on rooting out drug distributors. It would make it hard to carve out distribution territory.

He went down the list of the large cities in the east and eliminated all of them.

He looked at the US map and realized that one central point in the drug distribution was the city that had been described by one New Yorker as, “the sleepy little city by the Ohio River.” He moved the arrow on the screen and made a circle around Cincinnati.

He bought a one-way first-class plane ticket to Cincinnati.

He had his Mercedes-Benz SL Cabriolet driven there so that he would have his favorite car to use.

He spent a few days in Cincinnati in a luxury downtown hotel suite while he explored the city on foot. He walked the Ohio Riverfront Park. He located the police station and walked all around that area.

He found the place he was looking for. It was a bar about three blocks away from the police station. He walked in and asked the current owner what he wanted for the place.

The owner asked why he would want a place that did not do much business. He said that he was ready to sell but didn’t want to unload a dying bar. He gave a price of what he thought the building and property was worth and said that he currently was breaking even on the business. He asked again why he would want to buy the business.

Camacho replied that it seemed to be located in a place close to the downtown area but out of the beaten path. He agreed to the asking price but wanted six months’ time before he needed to make the payment.

He then asked who the regular customers happened to be and was not surprised to learn that there were several cops that frequented the place. He hoped that one of them would be open to a little extra cash for inside information about what was coming down. He also needed to make sure the regular cops were willing to look the other way to the traffic of distributors that might be entering and leaving the bar.

He made it a point to be friendly with all of the cops that came in and slowly figured out which one was most likely to be susceptible to making a lucrative arrangement and would agree to be an inside informant.

When that policeman’s bar bill began to build up, he made his proposal. The policeman thought he was a great bargainer and bargained for free drinks as a part of such an arrangement. Comacho figured that a bottle of booze a week was a very cheap bribe, and he added that if he got the information that he requested he would sweeten the arrangement. He figured that he could keep the monetary honey at a low level.

His early requests were simple and information he could get himself, but it provided a way to get the informant relaxed and willing to share information. The first thing he asked about was the number of high schools inside the two seventy-five loop. He figured the roughly twenty-five that he got an address for would be about the right number to set up a lucrative and low-key drug distribution network.

It was time to set up a small local distribution organization. He reached back to his L.A. network and got the names of three individuals that he could hire. One was located in Cincinnati; one was from L.A. who had worked for him there and one was from the Columbus area. He figured the mix would give him a small group that had the moxie to run the operation. He hired the three and assigned them the role of recruiting drug distributors at each of the high schools and distributing the drugs to them.

He gave them the profile of a good high school drug distributor. The individual had to be a person that demonstrated being a leader but who was either a loner or an individual who bullied others.

It could be a female but most often would probably be a male. He or she would stand out during the morning when school started and during the end of the day rush out of the school. He or she could be of any race. The poorer the better. However, they could not be on any drugs to be a distributor.

The individual would be given a starting bonus and initially five percent of the sales income.

He let the three who would be doing the recruiting know that they would each get five percent of the drugs their high school distributors sold so they should make sure to coach them and give them some additional rewards like free meals or rides to social events. In other words, set up a positive relationship with these young distributors. Finally, they should be setting up the next person to take the place of a high schooler that was graduating.

Setting up the distribution network and getting a local drug production facility established took him about six months. He was lucky and found an abandoned fire station just across town that he was able to lease. He imported a druggist from L.A. and set him up in the station. He funded the operation but stayed well away from what he figured was a group of druggies making more drugs.

He was able to buy a large home with several acres on the east side of the city that was only about fifteen minutes from the bar where he would have his operational office.

He felt good about the transition. Cincinnati did not have the nightlife that was available in L.A., but it featured a variety of engaging theatrical plays, orchestra performances, boating on nearby lakes and on the Ohio River. He figured he would enjoy a quieter lifestyle and become more active outdoors.

2: The Vanishing

The hallway was a maze of students weaving around each other, talking in small groups, or yelling to friends. There were also confrontations between some students and consistently three bullies would corner some person but most often some young female that they would harass.

Jesse navigated his way down the crowded hall as he hastened to make it to his next class. He had just escaped another scrimmage with these three bullies who were his nemesis. He was being hounded because he had interceded when the three had cornered a reluctant female student. The three were recognized throughout the school as bullies. He also suspected them of being the school’s drug suppliers. He was certain they were connected to the Red Bandana gang that controlled the drug distribution in the area. This worried him because he knew that the gang was violent and would corner a person when they were alone.

It was Saturday morning, and he was on the way to buy a new pair of basketball shoes. He spotted a young woman being harassed.

He should have minded his own business, but she was getting attacked by these three mean looking dudes wearing red bandanas. He shouted at them to stop and when they turned to respond to him the lady dashed away.

He took off but they caught up with him. When they caught up with him, he realized they were the three bullies that often pushed him around at school. He knew he was in big trouble.

They began pounding on him and said they were going to beat him to death. He fought as best as he could, but he took a brutal beating. It only stopped when a police car came driving by and turned on its red lights.

He used that moment, like the young woman, to dash away but he heard one of the bully’s shout at him that they were not through with him or anyone else in his family.

The image of his sister came to his mind. His sister, April, was only fifteen and was a freshman. She was excited about beginning high school. She was doing well in her classes, was a junior varsity cheer leader and had a minor role in one of the theatrical school plays.

He adored April. He figured if he vanished from the scene, the three hoods would move on, and she would be alright. This was all he could think of as he ran seemingly in a random direction.

That had been earlier in a grey cloud covered day that deteriorated into a continuous drizzle that had seemed determined to make him cold and miserable. His sweatshirt was soaked and the only reason he kept it on was because even in the wet condition it was keeping him warm.

He pulled his hood tight trying to keep the drizzle out. The day had faded into a night as dark as the thoughts in his mind. He found himself walking eastward but he had no clue where he was going. The blood had stopped running from his nose and the drizzle seemed to be keeping it moistened. His other cuts had all crusted over. He was a mess. He would need to find a place where he could wash up so he would be somewhat presentable. He felt lucky to have escaped alive.

The beating had been almost eight hours ago. The rumble in his stomach gave him a blunt unadulterated reality check about his current situation. He was wet, he was hungry, and he had no place to stop to get some sleep.

He had just made the basketball team and that morning he had emptied his money box so he could buy a new pair of Nike basketball shoes. That money was in his backpack. The idea of buying the Nike shoes was now history. That money had to last until he could get to wherever he was going, and until he got paid for the job, a job that he knew he needed to get.

He wondered if he had enough cash to carry him through until he had a job and a first paycheck. He thought about how his mother stretched her paycheck to make sure she always had food for the family. She always bought fifty-pound bags of rice and beans, large jars of peanut butter, of strawberry jam and grape jelly, and day-old loaves of bread. She made a point of letting him and April know that chicken, ham, and any other meat was a treat and would be cooked sparingly.

He figured that he would have to copy what she did when shopping so he could stretch the money he had in the backpack.

He looked ahead and saw a large honeysuckle bush growing under a railway overpass. He crawled under it and got as close to the trunk of the bush as possible and made himself as comfortable as he could. He would have liked to take off his wet sweatshirt, but the night was already cold to him. He hoped that it would be sunny the next day so he could dry off.

He felt like death warmed over, was miserable but he finally fell asleep.

The morning sun woke him up and the clear blue cloudless sky gave his down feelings a lift. He took off his sweatshirt and hung it from his backpack. His long sleeve shirt was damp to the touch, but it soon dried off as he walked.

He was on one of the smaller highways going east across Ohio. The occasional car or pickup went by, but none stopped to offer him a ride. As a Black man he did not expect to get picked up. He took long strides and kept walking.

Just about the time he was about to give up on getting to somewhere where he could get something to eat, he came up over a hill and saw that down in the valley, there was a small one street village hugging the banks of a small river. Tall old oaks and maples provided a shading canopy for most of the buildings in town. They appeared to be the barrier that kept the weeping willows along the river at bay. As he approached the town, it was as if he had stepped back in time. He half expected to see gunslingers and horses.

He saw only one store that had a sign advertising that they were a hardware and grocery. He entered and was greeted by an older lady sitting on a tall stool who asked him how she could be of help.

He asked if she had any sandwiches or something that he could have for a late breakfast. She led the way to the back of the store where there was a large coffee pot, a microwave and small freezer that had a variety of sandwiches and other microwaveable offerings.

She let him know that a cup of coffee and any one selection from the freezer was five dollars.

After looking over the selection he chose a mac and cheese package because it was the largest amount of food.

After wolfing down the food he walked around the small grocery section and selected a two-pound bag of rice and a large bag of dry black beans. He then found a small metal pan that he figured he would use to cook with. Finally, he picked up a large bottle of water.

He took everything to the counter where, as his selection was being rung up, the lady asked where he was going.

He answered that he was not sure but somewhere along the East Coast.

She smiled and let him know that in the next town he would be able to catch a bus. She then let him know that breakfast was on her and wished him good luck.

He thanked her for being so kind and then paid her with some of his precious cash.

He then went on his way. Now he was thinking about where on the East Coast he would go, and he wondered if he had enough money to buy the ticket and still have enough left over so he could last until he landed a job.

In the next town he located the bus station. He was surprised that he could go to almost anywhere along the East Coast for about one hundred dollars.

He felt a sense of relief that he would have enough money left over for food, but he would need to figure out where to sleep at night. He was sure that he would not be able to stay in any hotel or motel.

After considering the cities along the coast, he chose Virginia Beach as the place that he would try to establish himself. He was not at all sure why he had selected it, but it seemed to be the halfway point between going north or going south.

The bus ride gave him time to get some sleep, think through what he would do so he could feed himself and where he might be able to find a place where he could sleep.

He figured he would have to locate a homeless shelter and hope that he would get the help he needed to find a job and an affordable place to live.

The bus arrived early in the morning. Once again, his stomach was growling. He walked out of the bus station and looked around. He saw an old Black guy pushing a cart filled with bottles and tin cans.

He walked over to him and asked if he knew where a person could get something to eat at no cost.

The old guy looked at him and told him he was too young to become a beggar and should get a job.

Jesse nodded and asked him where he might find a job.

The old guy smiled and said that he should go to the Mayfair Home of Hope where he could get a good meal and while he was there, he should see if they could point him to a job. He added that it would not be a job being the president of some company, but it would let him make enough to let him eat. He pointed at his cart and said that his other option was to collect bottles and cans and take them to the recycling center where he would get about two cents per bottle and a penny a can. He added that he covered the territory for blocks around and would fight him off.

Jesse thanked him for the information and asked for directions to the Home of Hope.

The old man pointed in the direction opposite to the one he was going and said that it was about seven blocks. He said good luck and continued on his way.

Jesse took up a brisk walk and he soon saw the sign outside a building that looked like it might once have been an apartment building.

He read the sign on the outside of the building that said it gave food, comfort, and the opportunity to start anew.

He figured that he qualified and that he was certainly starting new.

Thank you for reading this far.