Who Is Anthony Stephens?

The Life and Death of a College Grad

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Interview with Catherine D’Amico: Part 10

26 June 2011

– Well, I don’t know how long it took Tony to drive down here. I never asked.

– All he ever talked about was Tallahassee, Miami, and being here in Boca.

– I don’t know. Seeing as how Earl gave him his truck and Tony didn’t have a mode of transportation when I met him, I’m guessing he got rid of it somewhere along the way.

– What he did after that, before he got here, is beyond me. But I’m sure it was hard. It was all hard.

– That’s why I keep saying, you can’t judge the man until you’ve been through what he’s been through.

________________________________________________________________________

Excerpt from Anthony Stephens’ Mood Journal

April 2 2005,

Morning: 5 out of 10

Afternoon: 6 out of10

Evening: 7 out of 10

Looking back on my journal entries, I have come to the conclusion that I’m either bi-polar or just extremely indecisive.

One minute I’m revering the psychology field, the next I’m berating it.

One minute I think my mother’s faultless, the next she’s the reason I’m so screwed up.

The only thing I see that’s remained constant is this confusion about my father. Which is ironic: that my father’s the most stable issue in my head right now.

I remember this one time when I was like eight years old, right before Hurricane Andrew came through and fucked Miami up (that’s a whole other thing Dr. Silver thinks I should talk about, but I already talked to all those damn shrinks from UM about it after they rebuilt our house, back when I was like ten. Think I can deal with that on my own). My mom had gone up to visit her mother, my grandmother, in Toronto. My grandfather had just died and my grandmother was sick so my mom went to be with her for a little while. My dad stayed behind and took care of me for the few days my mom was gone. He was working at an art store back then, some place that sold canvases and paintbrushes and all that other stuff.

I remember being in school one of those days and looking forward to going home to see him, because he was almost always working when my mom was around. I didn’t know why I wanted to spend time with him, I just knew that I did, and I was so happy all day at school. I know. Homo.

Anyways, he came home that first day with a pad of high quality paper, a box of color pencils, another box of sharpened number 2 pencils and all types of markers and shit, this whole huge package of stuff he just handed me and told me was mine. I looked at him, surprised when he gave it to me and he gave me this slight smile, the only type of smile he ever really gave from what I can remember; kind of a nervous grin. He gave it to me, smiled and said “try it. See if you like it. If not, try something else.”

That day is one of the reasons I can’t say with any honesty that I hate my dad for leaving. Even though he did abandon us and never looked back, I have to believe he was just following his own advice.

And you can’t hate somebody for that.

________________________________________________________________________

Interview with Wayne “Classic” Price: Part 13

11 July 2011

– Man, Earl ain’t tell me shit while he was in the pen. Only thing I knew while he was locked up was—the nigga was locked up. That’s it.

– Remind me a this time—hold up man. You been askin’ all types a questions and shit, like you trying to bust this nigga Earl. You sure you ain’t no fuckin’ poh-leece?

– Whatever. Yeah, Earl ain’t tell me shit. I ain’t even find out he was locked up ‘til the day he called. Nigga’d already been in ‘bout a month by then.

– I was runnin’ some shit to this nigga Raul’s crib over in Queens that day. I remember ‘cause the poh-leece pulled me over like three times comin’ back through the hood ‘cause my taillight was busted. Almost got me with a ounce the first time too, son, ‘fore I had dropped the shit off.

– Shit was like a warnin’ bruh, you know what I’m sayin’? [Wayne seems amused] How that look? I get pulled over three muhfuckin’ times on the way back to my crib, then I get in and my phone rangin’, pick it up and they tellin’ me I got a collect call from Wakulla County Correctional Institution?

– Yeah, man. And I’m like, the fuck is a “Wakulla County,” you know what I’m sayin’? Never heard that shit before in my life, son—but I done heard “Correctional Institution” before, know what I’m sayin’? That shit came in loud and clear, and the bitch on the phone asked me if I accept the charges and I’m like yeah, even though I ain’t know who the fuck it was callin’.

– But I ain’t goin’ deny a brother in the pen a outside voice, know what I’m sayin’? I know plenty a niggas locked up right now, and I’d take calls from any one of ’em, let ‘em know shit’s aight on this side a the bars, know what I’m sayin’? I feel for them niggas in there sometimes, son.

– Yeah, I accept the call and there’s all this static and yelling and shit and I’m like, who the fuck is this? And here come Earl’s voice, all deep and shit, like bein’ locked up a couple weeks done turned the nigga into a grown ass man, know what I’m sayin’?

– I’m surprised as fuck when I hear him. Thought somebody was fuckin’ with me.

– My little cuz, my little movie-crazy, big-headed, smart-ass cousin done got himself locked up? You must be out yo goddamn mind. [Wayne shakes his head] Shit wasn’t no joke, bruh. Earl was locked up. He ain’t tell me on the phone that day what had happened neither.

– When you talkin’ to a nigga locked up, you got five minutes. Operators don’t be asking no questions, givin’ niggas no breaks. Five minutes, then yo line’s cut. All Earl told me that day was to tell his ma he got a job overseas, some emergency shit. That he ain’t have time to call or tell her nothin’.

– I told him his ma—my Aunt Sharon—she ain’t stupid. She ain’t goin’ believe that shit. He said she got to, told me to make some shit up if I had to, then he told me he’d holla at me when he got out and that was it.

– I ain’t hear from the nigga again ‘til he called me to pick him up at the bus station two years later. By then, his ma’d already passed and my ma wasn’t talkin’ to me no mo’, so I was the only fam he had.

– Two years son. That’s a long time not to hear from a nigga who been locked up. Time like that, prison time, that shit do a lot to a nigga.

– What I heard, two years in the pen, that’s like ten years out here. Ten years a getting’ shitted on by every nigga with a badge or a rap sheet.

________________________________________________________________________

Anthony Stephens’ Final Bank Statement

who is anthony stephens?

Click For Parts 76-81

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Written by patrickandersonjr

June 1, 2012 at 9:00 am

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