is overreacting! You sleep on niggas if you want to. Trust me, I know. You see what just happened to us, and that was flesh and blood seeking to hurt us. So imagine what someone outside of family will do,” I told her.
Our attention turned to the front door. Someone was banging hard. We all rushed to see who was banging as if they were the Po Po. When we got to the front door, we saw that’s exactly who it was, the Po Po. I opened the door.
My name is Detective Clyde Allen. I’m with the L.A. County Police Department. Do you have a relative named Trina—”
“Yes, I do,” she cut him off.
“Are you next of kin?”
“That’s my sister, why?” Tasha grabbed her chest.
“We need you to come identify the body.”
“Identify what? Why? What happened?” I could see her other hand begin to shake.
“Can you come with us now?” Mr. Allen asked her.
Tasha turned around and looked at all of us. Her eyes were tearing up fast, and her whole body was shaking. Even though we heard what they just said, she announced it again with her voice trembling. “It’s Trina. Oh, God! They want me to identify her—” She started to say something, but then she fainted, sliding down the wall. We all rushed to her side.
The detective stood there, looking in through the screen door. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I answered. Kyra had already rushed off to get a damp towel, and Jaz went for her cell phone. “I’m her attorney. Can you give me your card, and we’ll get to the coroner’s office as soon as we can? It’s obvious that we can’t leave right now.”
He looked at me and then looked at Tasha. He went into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Call me when you are on your way so I can meet you there. It doesn’t matter what time it is. I’m hoping that Mrs. Macklin can answer a few questions.”
“I will, and thank you for understanding.”
After about a half hour, Tasha was okay and all riled up. She said later for the morgue. She wanted to go by Trina’s apartment to do some investigating first. Kyra volunteered to stay home with the kids, and the rest of us piled into the truck and drove over to Trina’s. When we arrived, it did appear that the neighborhood had had some excitement. The truck came to a stop, and Tasha dashed out. I was right on her heels.
“Excuse me, excuse me,” she said to a young white girl who was carrying a skateboard. “What happened around here?”
“Tragedy. I never saw anything like it. They literally set the girl on fire. She was running through the parking lot, screaming and hollering. Here, look.” She pulled out her iPhone, and we formed a circle around her, stretching our necks trying to get a good look.
I’ll be damned if she hadn’t caught some of the incident on her phone. She must have been upstairs, because the image was far away and aimed downward. And it was Trina. I could tell by her voice. The top part of her body was covered in flames. She was running and releasing blood-curdling screams. We all gasped. Tasha choked up and started crying.
You talking about karma? That was all that I could think about as I noticed that not one person tried to do anything to help Trina. People were running away, and some were just standing there, looking on in awe. Damn, that white chick wasn’t the only one recording. I saw several phones raised up, obviously recording. This was going to be a hit on YouTube. Poor Trina kept burning until the fire department and an ambulance showed up.
“This will go viral, watch!” the white chick said.
The next thing we knew, Tasha had snatched the phone out of her hands, slammed it onto the ground, and started stomping on it.
“Hey! Hey!” The girl grabbed Tasha by her hair. “That’s my phone!” Then the poor girl was getting her ass whipped and didn’t know why.
“That’s my sister!” Tasha was screaming, crying out and kicking the girl. “My sister!”
“How was I supposed to know? That’s my phone! I’ma sue your ass!” she yelled from the ground. Her skateboard was rolling away.
Tasha was shaking uncontrollably. We had to drag her to the truck and get out of there