I never saw the drugs, never touched any money.

That was for the gophers – kids young enough that cops wouldn’t grab them when they rolled our corner. Cops went for those that worked the grind first, guys like me,.

But, like I said, I never saw any drugs, never touched any money.

My corner was boarded up and burned out section of Klondike. Close enough to the projects and schools, far enough from the cops.

“Shit looks like Fallujah.” My supplier had told me when I’d set up here. “Straight outta Call of Duty.”

I recognized the Volvo coming down the street. It belonged to a rich white kid in his early twenties. He’d gone from being an infrequent user to one of our best customers in a matter of months.

“White boy, you gonna smoke his brains out if you don’t slow down.” I said as the window slid down.

Filth crusted around the blood-shot eyes that stared vacantly up at me as a hundred held between scabbed fingers was extended to me.

“We’re out man,” I said without thinking. Then, “Get the hell outta here.”

First time I ever took a moral victory over an economic one.

Memphis Note
I haven’t written about it much because I don’t think I can do it justice, but Memphis’s drug problem is just as prevalent and dangerous as ever. There are whole neighborhoods that are ruled more by the rules of the drug game than the rule of law. But, the Memphis police have started to push back against them, and the crime statistics have finally started to come down.

“Father? Is everything alright?” The young nun said as stepped into the rectory, the lantern in her hand flicking ghostly shadows against the walls. “I heard screaming.”

She gasped as he eyes adjusted to the dark. Sprawled across the floor was an unconscious man and dirty satchel with documents spilling out of it. There was blood. So much blood.

“He fainted as I was pulling the bullet out.” Said the priest, slumped against the wall. His voice quivered as he spoke, and even in the low light, his skin stood out as ashen.

“I think he’s a soldier. A spy, guessing from what’s in his pack.” The priest was talking very fast, stammering. “One of ours. One of theirs, I mean. Oh, mercy, what does it matter.”

He looked up at the nun, tears welling in his eye, the wounded soldier’s blood streaked across his face.

“The gospel says to give comfort to all men, but they will surely kill this man, and us with him as collaborators. What are we to do?”

“For him? All we can.” She knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “And let the rest fall to the hands of the Lord.”

Memphis Note
During the Union occupation of Memphis, the religious establishment faced a sharp watch from the occupying forces. There were concerns that religious leaders would try to foment discontent and funnel to aid the Confederate guerillas in the area.

“Mister Ballard?” I asked the man sitting at a booth by himself in the back of the diner. It was lunch time, the place was bustling, which was probably what he wanted.

The man looked up from his paper and beamed a smile at me. “Excellent. Glad you came. Didn’t know if you would.”

He motioned for me to sit, and I slid in across from him.

“About your deal, sir,” I whispered, awkwardly. “I’m not sure I fully understand what you’re asking.”

“Simple proposition, easiest kind. Don’t do your job. Interfere with mine. Generally speaking, be a thick headed ass. City awards me the electrical contract because your boss’s company was too much trouble.“

I was about to give him a stern reprimand for speaking to me in such a way when a waiter dropped off several plates of food for Ballard.

“Don’t act indignant.” He said before I could respond. “Met your mayor. Know enough about this town. Morality here is as murky as the water in your river.”

He snapped his napkin out and stuffed a corner of it down his collar like a bib.

“Besides, how else could you make a few year’s salary doing nothing?”

Memphis Note
F.W. Ballard was a electrical engineer and business man the city of Memphis hired to assess a private electrical utility for purchase in the early part of the 20th century. At that point, utilities operated by getting contracts from the city, and most of those contracts gave the city the option to purchase the utility if the city deemed it in its best interest. In Ballard’s case, the company he was brought in to assess refused to cooperate, resulting in Ballard recommending the city build its own electrical grid. Which of course his company would be happy to help the city with.