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    Human Nature: The Devin James Series
    Human Nature: The Devin James Series
    Human Nature: The Devin James Series
    Ebook118 pages1 hour

    Human Nature: The Devin James Series

    By Johnnie E. Sanders

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    About this ebook

    Everyone has gone through something that has changed them in a way that they could never go back to the person they once were.
    Devin James is back. He has dug himself out of his mental hole and has buried his past so he thinks. No longer a public defender but now has accepted the partnership in one of the largest defense law firms in the South, which will unearth emotions within him, pit his gut feelings against the facts of the cases.
    The bond between Devin James and Detective Ellis Collins will be stretched thin with both knowing it's more than what they see to the cases. Their digging, prying take them into the mindset of brilliant psychotic criminals which brings in Dr. Annette Wright one of the nationals leading criminologist to pin point the HUMAN NATURE that is within everyone.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateDec 2, 2013
    ISBN9781483514567
    Human Nature: The Devin James Series

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      Book preview

      Human Nature - Johnnie E. Sanders

      9781483514567

      CHAPTER 1

      Certain aspects of life you have to numb yourself to or you become numb from seeing such dramatic events so regularly that they seem normal.

      The rainy season had set in. Birmingham was drenched, but we carried on like normal, seeing but not seeing. Not caring would describe it better.

      Two police cars and a Humvee; the jump-out task force team were cruising the streets of a residential area. All the houses were old but huge. The sun hadn’t quite set. On the porch of a particular home was an elderly man; to his side, behind the large potted plants, was an AK-47. Playing with a pit bull on the sidewalk near a rustic old broken-down car was a youngster. Under his shirt in the waist of his jeans was a 9mm, and under the car was another AK-47. They both were actually on post, guarding the outside perimeter of the home.

      A sniper bullet struck the old man by the door in the center of his forehead, splattering blood on the siding of the house.

      Another bullet ripped through the throat of the youngster, making the dog nervously jump back.

      The jump-out unit scooped onto the property and stormed the house. Their armored suits covered their bodies and concealed their faces. Inside the house, there were people counting money and packaging drugs – oblivious until the unit had moved in sweeping from floor to floor, room to room, killing everything and everybody in their path. Some tried to surrender, thinking they would be arrested instead of killed – they were wrong, the bullets sprayed them anyway.

      The team was tactical and merciless and highly efficient. Some secured the house while others bagged the money but didn’t touch the dope. In a matter of seconds, the entire operation was over, and the unit had departed the scene as quickly as they had arrived.

      ……

      Country was a 32-year-old sergeant in the Army Reserve – a sniper with the body of an overweight cook, gentle and harmless looking. He wasn’t dumb or brilliant but somewhere in between; smart enough to self-medicate with liquor, bottle after bottle to blink out the confusion from killing – nightmares, sleeplessness and anxiety. He and his unit had toured twice in Iraq and twice in Afghanistan within a 60-month period. He suffered from emotional trauma, PTSD, brought on by what he’d seen and done in the wars.

      Country’s wife, Lulu would awaken in the middle of night to Country’s loud weeping to finally find him in the corner of the kitchen, naked, balled up like a scared little child.

      …

      Country hadn’t been ordered to treatment, but it was a way for him to guarantee he was fit if his unit was deployed again. The Army was his safe heaven. In life he was a nobody, not even average. But in combat he excelled. He was good at killing. He knew if he had a middle of the night episode while on tour he would officially be labeled with PTSD and his career in the service would be limited if not over. Plus the fact he worked as a janitor at the Birmingham Police Department, which meant the city covered the cost of therapy with Dr. Annette Wright. On her couch he could release his rage, justify why.

      …War releases the animal in you. Instincts take over and we fight for survival. It’s like you don’t care about anything or anyone except yourself, and who or what’s yours. You feel nothing. Could care less what happens to anyone or anything else. You do what you have to do. If you allow shame or remorse or even the thought to slip in to your head, you’re dead! Your unit is dead! That’s how we survive! Then they bring us home and want us to act civilized. Like it never happened.

      Like what never happened?

      Country couldn’t articulate what his mind wouldn’t admit he’d done. …To carry out orders!

      Annette could physically see Country’s frustration mounting, as he tried to restrain his rage, gripping the edge of the couch with both hands.

      …Defend our country! Complete the mission!

      Breathe. Breathe. You are in control. You are in control.

      He took deep breaths calming himself. Yes I am…Thanks, Doc. Same time next week?

      CHAPTER 2

      The University of Alabama at Birmingham had made itself interdependent with the city. Its campus stretched from Compass Bank to Greensprings.

      Four white male students were strolling in the parking lot of the music hall as if it wasn’t pouring rain. To take a closer look at them, they had the appearance of misfits, slackers – actually they were musicians, members of the symphony – and had been since elementary school.

      Their sizes would’ve made you think they were more into sports, but music was their love. Classical music was their way to get a free education, but hip-hop was their dreams to riches and fame. They were a rap group slash band; each could sing, rap and play all the instruments. They’d actually self-produced a CD, but because they were too educated and conscious, the labels had rejected their demos. The leader of their group was Scott, a 20 year old who had a mixture of trailer park trash attitude with a confident swagger of determination. He was the premier rapper and self-proclaimed manager of the group. Contrary to their appearance, the CD was fire.

      They’d gotten the CD placed in the mom and pops music stores around the city – but mostly they moved the CD’s themselves-- sold them outside the hot spots in the city with the help of Scott’s wife, Candy, who looked out of his league being super dark and super fine. Candy always pitched the hardest.

      …More like the reincarnation of Young Ryder or Tuc. Buy it. If you don’t like, you can get your money back…I’ll see you at home.

      ……

      The rain had taken a temporary break. Night had consumed the city. The city’s outskirts, a rural area was almost completely pitched black, even the campus of one of the mega churches – accept for the flashlights of the four masked figures loading valuables out of the church into a white van.

      Once the van was completely packed with candle holders, crosses, gold trays, stands and picture frames – the figures went back inside and splashed the place with diesel fuel and set it afire.

      As the white van entered on to the freeway, the four figures removed their masks revealing Scot and the three other group members.

      Scot drove to a paint shop located in downtown Birmingham, where all four of them worked. It was three o’clock in the morning and no one else was there. The owner trusted them and relied on them so much he’d given them a set of keys.

      Two members packed the items from the van into bags and loaded them onto the back of Big CJ’s pick-up.

      ……

      Scott quietly entered his home, a one-bedroom apartment in central city’s projects. He tried to ease into bed, but his toddler daughter awoke then Candy. They all shared the medium-sized bed that took up most of

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