Post by Steve Orbit on Dec 13, 2013 16:29:53 GMT -5
In the closing minutes of the December 8th edition of Slam, "The Mack" Steve Orbit was arrested by the Las Vegas Police Department under direct orders from the FBI. Charges include racketeering, illegal gambling, promoting prostitution, drug trafficking, tax evasion, and three counts of first degree murder. He was brought to the Clark County Detention Center in Las Vegas and placed in a temporary holding cell. On December 9th, he was transferred from that facility to the High Desert State Prison in unincorporated Clark County, near Indian Springs, where he is currently being held without bail. He is incarcerated in the Ad-Seg unit under protective custody due to his status as a high profile celebrity.
==
MONDAY, DECEMBER 9
Nearby, at an undisclosed location, several FBI agents sit around a table. At the head of the table is Agent Hutchins, who has led the investigation into Steve Orbit's illegal activities. Cups of coffee and black suits everywhere. Another agent sits to his left-- this is Agent Killington, a senior official with the FBI in Nevada.
Agent Killington: Have we made any progress with Orbit?
Hutchins shakes his head.
Agent Hutchins: He's still not talking.
Agent Killington: What methods have we used?
Agent Hutchins: Nothing too excessive. I had a couple of the local detectives sweat him out for a few hours-- got nothing. Tomorrow, I'm going to pay him a visit personally.
A man we recognize raises his hand at the table. He's Michael Simpson, an FBI analyst from New York who helped tie Orbit into Fly's operation, basically sealing the deal for Orbit's arrest.
Agent Simpson: Mr. Hutchins, if I may--
Hutchins nods.
Agent Simpson: You're not going to break Orbit. He's street-hardened, and he's no stranger to prison. He has that jail mentality-- you know how they are. He'd rather rot in prison than cooperate with the authorities.
Agent Hutchins: Interesting, since those are really the only two options available to him.
Agent Simpson: It's my opinion that you're wasting your time trying to flip him. He won't talk-- he won't give anybody else up. He won't give us anything we can use. Besides, he was the one pulling the strings. With him behind bars, the rest of the Ridder organization will crumble. We've been focusing on the wrong guy for too long.
Hutchins raises an eyebrow.
Agent Hutchins: Fly?
Agent Simpson: Exactly. Fly was working for Orbit-- not the other way around. We got the big fish. All that's left is to fry him.
Several of the agents chuckle.
Agent Hutchins: And fry he will.
Simpson grins. Agent Hutchins dismisses the meeting, and they begin to exit the room. Fade out.
==
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 10
Scene opens at High Desert State Prison. We're inside the Administrative Segregation Unit. Dozens of highly secured, single prisoner cells line each side of the hall. A large, female guard walks down the hall until she reaches cell number 18. Through a small plexiglass window, we see "The Mack" Steve Orbit inside of the 6x8 cell, which isn't much larger than closet. He's unshaven, wearing an orange prison jumpsuit, and laying on his cot. The guard taps on the window. Orbit flinches, and then gets up and puts his face to the window.
Steve Orbit: Shit, I been waitin' all day for you, baby--
Guard: Cut the shit, Orbit.
She turns and yells to another officer.
Guard: EIGHTEEN, COMING OUT!
Orbit puts his hands through a small slot and he is handcuffed. The guard opens the cell and Orbit is led down the hall.
Steve Orbit: Where we goin'? Chow time already? Or you finally gonna give me some of that ass? I got the blind spots on the cameras all mapped out--
The guard shoves Orbit forward.
Guard: Last warning. You've only been here for a day-- you're going to learn to change that fucking tone around me, you understand? You will respect me and you will do as your told while you're a guest of the state.
Orbit mumbles something like "whatever ho" under his breath.
Guard: You've got a visitor.
Orbit's eyes light up.
Steve Orbit: Yo, is it a female? Yo, do I get conjugal visits and shit?
The guard just shakes her head and takes a deep breath, dragging Orbit through the door.
Guard: No, and no. Now come on.
==
The scene cuts to moments later. Orbit sits in front of a table in an interrogation room inside the prison. His hands are still cuffed behind him and the same female guard is by the door. Agent Hutchins paces around the table, sipping a cup of coffee. He probably just ate a box of donuts on the way but that's another story. Fucking pigs.
Agent Hutchins: Mr. Orbit, you're aware of the time and energy that the bureau, and myself personally have put into this investigation. We know just about everything there is to know about you and your organization.
Orbit chuckles.
Agent Hutchins: Something funny?
Steve Orbit: "My" organization. That's a good one.
Hutchins pauses for a moment and then continues.
Agent Hutchins: As I was saying, we know just about everything-- but there are a few final peices to this puzzle that we'd love to put together. You're an intelligent man-- you know what you're facing here. We've taken everything you own, you're looking at life in prison, et cetera. You're finished, Orbit. Now, as I said, there are a few questions that I need answered, and if you can answer them for me, I have the ability to make the rest of your life more comfortable. I could recommend to the judge that you serve out your sentence in a nice, white collar facility. I might even be able to get you out on parole one day, if you tell me what I want to know.
Orbit shakes his head.
Steve Orbit: Oh, that's nice. "Parole one day". The fuck outta here with that shit-- I'm fuckin' innocent. I been set up. This shit is a bum wrap. And I want a lawyer, I ain't talkin' to you no more without no lawyer.
Agent Hutchins: I figured you'd say something like that. Let me just tell you, then, what I want from you. The Ridder organization has operated above the law for far too long to not have any sources on the inside. For the organization to have lasted this long without help is... well, impossible. What I want from you is names. I want to know who's on the payroll. Politicians, law enforcement, judges-- anyone who's in their pocket. If you can provide me with that information, I'll help you in return. If not... well, I promise you, justice will be swift and strong, and you'll spend the rest of your life in a shithole like this.
Orbit appears unphased by Hutchins' remarks. There are a few moments of silence. Orbit stares at the wall.
Agent Hutchins: I'm going to give you the rest of the week to consider my offer. I'll be back on Friday. If you still want to be some kind of street hero and remain loyal to the same people who would throw you under the bus in a heartbeat, that's your choice to live with. I hope you'll make the right decision and accept my offer.
Orbit looks up at Hutchins and they lock eyes. Orbit still refuses to speak. After a few moments, Hutchins leaves, motioning for the guard to let him out.
Agent Hutchins: Friday.
Hutchins leaves. The guard leads Orbit out of the room.
==
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 11
Scene opens inside the visitation unit. There is a thick plexiglass wall separating the prisoners from the free. Among the twenty or so chairs, we find Bishop Don "Magic" Juan, world-reknowned pimp-turned-preacher and spiritual advisor to many high-profile celebrities, including Steve Orbit. Orbit sits across from him, behind the plastic. They speak through a telephone.
Bishop: How you holdin' up in here, cuz?
Orbit shrugs.
Steve Orbit: It is what it is. The hole is killin' me though. I wish I could be out here with the niggas, but--
Bishop: You know that's not a possibility. As a celebrity, you're a target.
Steve Orbit: Yeah. Yeah, I know. It's just... man, all that time by myself, it's like the walls are closin' in on me, homie.
Bishop: You're never truly alone.
Orbit doesn't understand. Bishop looks towards the ceiling. Orbit nods.
Bishop: Anyway, I haven't heard from you in months-- I was surprised to see that you had called.
Steve Orbit: I appreciate you comin' out.
Bishop: Shit, I never say no to Vegas-- uh, I mean, you know I got you, cuz.
They both laugh.
Bishop: So what's this about? Is all them charges for real or is this another FBI crusade against a black celebrity?
Steve Orbit: Well... it's complicated, you know what I'm sayin'? I got myself into some shit, but I ain't the mother fucker they think I am. I got framed, yo.
Bishop: Do you know who set you up?
Steve Orbit: Definitely. I had a joint venture type of thing goin' with this whiteboy, Jonny Fly.
Bishop: THE Jonny Fly?
Steve Orbit: Yeah, you heard of him?
Bishop: Hell yeah, best fuckin' wrestler in the worl--
Bishop catches himself mid-sentence. Orbit's nostrils flare.
Bishop: I mean, yeah, you know. I think I remember seeing him when I was checkin' you out on TV. Weren't y'all on the same side recently?
Steve Orbit: Yeah, but I fucked up. My gut told me he was gonna fuck me over, but I ain't listen. With my dumb ass, and you see where it got me? Fuck.
Bishop: Alright... check this out. If you know you been set up, and you know WHO set you up-- is there any proof? Any way you can cast some reasonable doubt on them charges?
Steve Orbit: Well... yeah, I mean, there's definitely proof. Solid, physical mother fuckin' evidence. I got it somewhere safe. This FBI mother fucker is comin' back here Friday to meet with me, but I dunno.
Bishop: You don't know what? If you got a way to get yourself outta here, you gotta do that while you still got a chance. You don't wanna do no life sentence, Steve-- I've met with plenty of lifers, and... you just gotta trust me, homie. You don't wanna stay in here for life.
Steve Orbit: Nah, I don't, but... I dunno, Don. I feel fucked up talkin' to the feds. It's like I'm goin' against everything I stand for, everything I represent-- it's against my nature, you know what I'm sayin'? And maybe I deserve to do life. I mean... nobody forced my hand, you know what I'm sayin'? Maybe I should just be a mother fuckin' man and deal with this shit.
Bishop looks at Orbit for a few moments and then busts out laughing.
Bishop: Be a man? [laughs] You a damn fool, Steve. You gonna let the man who set you up go free, while you rottin' away in a cell? Let me tell you somethin', Steve. Twenty years from now, that Jonny Fly mother fucker will be layin' on a beach somewhere, retired, talkin' to some young bitch about how he framed Steve Orbit and stayed his ass out of prison once again. And you? You gonna be sittin' right there, in the same damn cell, talkin' to mother fuckers like me through a window. Maybe you'll have yourself... [laughs] maybe you'll have yourself a nice girlfriend in here. A boy, girlfriend. [laughs]
Orbit's not amused.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, real fuckin' funny-- I dunno why I asked you to come here, man. I thought you was gonna tell me some encouraging words or give me some guidance and shit.
Bishop: Aight, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm tryin' to help you, I'm just tellin' you the truth. You want some guidance? Check this out. You are sitting in this cell right now-- not because you slipped. Not because you fucked up. You're sitting there so Jonny Fly can be a free man. You're taking the fall for him, you're his fall guy. If you wanna talk about your morals and being a man and sticking to the G-Code, that's great, but the fact is that HE is the one who violated the code. Not you. If you talk to the feds, it's because HE put you in this fucked up position. You ain't put yourself here. Remember that.
Orbit lets it soak in for a few moments, and then starts nodding his head.
Steve Orbit: Yeah. You right, I didn't put myself here. I'm takin' the fall for that mother fucker. I ain't nobody's fall guy-- fuck that mother fucker. Fuck a Jonny Fly.
Bishop: That's what I'm sayin'. You talkin' about your LIFE, homie. Your very existance on this PLANET. It's you or him, Steve. You or him. This ain't a game. You gotta do right by yourself-- you don't owe nobody nothin'.
Steve Orbit: I know. You right. I need to make him pay for this shit.
There's a brief moment of silence.
Bishop: What happened to you, Steve? When we was talkin' a few months ago, you was talkin' about gettin' your life together, straightening out and shit-- you wanted to run your own legitimate business, and you wanted to become a better man. What happened?
Steve Orbit: I...
Orbit struggles to answer.
Steve Orbit: I dunno, man. I just... I fucked up, Don. I fucked up. For real.
A loud buzzer sounds. Visiting time is over.
Bishop: I'll be back to see you, aight?
Steve Orbit: Hopefully not. At least, not here.
Bishop: Pray about everything, man. Ask for guidance. You'll get it.
Bishop and Orbit each hang up their end of the phone. Several guards come to escort Orbit away from the other inmates, and Bishop gets up to leave.
==
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13
Scene opens in the interrogation room. The same one where the meeting between Orbit and Agent Hutchins took place on Tuesday. And, once again, we find the same set-up-- Orbit is sitting in a chair at the table, handcuffed. Agent Hutchins is wearing a black suit and still a fucking pig who loves donuts. The fat female guard stands by the door, and the meeting is on.
Agent Hutchins: Time's up, Orbit. Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?
Steve Orbit: I can't tell you what I don't know, man.
Hutchins smirks.
Agent Hutchins: Alright, then-- it's settled. Have a nice life. Watch your ass in here-- I mean that in a literal sense.
Steve Orbit: Very funny. Listen, before you go, I do have some information that you might be interested in.
Agent Hutchins: That right?
Steve Orbit: Yeah. Just hear me out for a minute. What if I told you I had proof that I been set up?
Agent Hutchins: I'd tell you you're full of shit.
Steve Orbit: Aight, that's fair. That's fair enough. Let me ask you somethin'-- there's a guy, one of your FBI guys, who broke the big tip on me, right? One guy in particular who thought it would be a good idea to focus on me, one guy who linked me to Fly and the Ridder organization. Right?
Hutchins raises his eyebrow, but doesn't answer the question.
Steve Orbit: ... And his name is Simpson, right?
Hutchins rubs his chin. He takes a seat at the table.
Agent Hutchins: So somebody tipped you off on who investigated you. Big deal. Doesn't prove anything.
Orbit chuckles.
Steve Orbit: Is your head really that far up your ass? A couple months ago, I was nobody. You KNOW that. I was out in Oakland tryin' to open a God damn business, and now I'm here and y'all are accusing me of running the fuckin' mafia for the last six months. How does that even make sense? You-- YOU, of all people, know that Fly is the one who's in charge. You really think Fly would work for ANYONE else, let alone a nigga like ME?
Hutchins seems to be considering Orbit's words-- and then he shakes his head.
Agent Hutchins: You've got nothing to stand on, Orbit. You're not talking your way out of this. We've got a trusted agent who's corroborated Fly's story. Not to mention the VIDEO FOOTAGE of you murdering Tom Salemone.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, about that-- if y'all want me to talk, I need immunity. I need immunity from everything.
Agent Hutchins: That's not a promise I'm prepared to make.
Steve Orbit: How 'bout we start with this, then-- can we take these damn cuffs off?
Hutchins motions towards the guard. She takes the key off of her belt and unlatches Orbit's cuffs. He rubs his wrists and then crosses his arms in front of him on the table. Hutchins stops the guard.
Agent Hutchins: Can we have some privacy, please?
Guard: You sure you wanna be in here with an uncuffed murderer?
Agent Hutchins: I can handle myself, thank you.
The guard leaves the room.
Steve Orbit: Listen, I don't think y'all are stupid. I just think... I think you been duped. Baboozled. Hustled.
Agent Hutchins: By whom?
Orbit gives that look, like... are you fucking serious.
Steve Orbit: You know who. Jonny mother fuckin' Fly. And his homeboy, Michael Simpson.
Agent Hutchins: Michael Simpson has been a trusted analyst for over ten years. I find it hard to believe that he's working with Fly.
Steve Orbit: You said you wanted names? I'm giving you a fuckin' name.
Agent Hutchins: And you can prove this.
Steve Orbit: Beyond the shadow of a doubt.
Hutchins sighs. He takes a mini tape recorder out of his pocket and places it on the table.
Steve Orbit: Before you turn that on-- you gonna give me what I want?
Agent Hutchins: If you can prove that Michael Simpson and Jonny Fly worked together to frame you, and you agree to testify if needed, I can guarantee you full immunity from all crimes.
Steve Orbit: That's good. But I want all my shit back, too.
Agent Hutchins: Hold on a sec--
Steve Orbit: YOU hold on. I want my shit back. The Club, my money, my rides-- if any of my girls have been caught up in this thing, I want them released immediately and the charges dropped. It's only fair.
Hutchins considers the offer.
Steve Orbit: And I want you to say that shit on that fuckin' tape recorder so you can't fuck me over later.
Agent Hutchins: Alright. I suppose if we've made a mistake... IF we've made a mistake, you are entitled to that. It's a deal, but you're going to have to produce some rock solid evidence.
Orbit flashes the first genuine smile we've seen thus far.
Steve Orbit: Hit record.
Agent Hutchins: Tell me everything. Start from the beginning.
Hutchins presses the record button.
Agent Hutchins: This is Agent Hutchins. Friday the thirteenth of December, 2013. I'm presently in the interrogation unit of High Desert State Prison with Steve Orbit conducting a witness interview regarding the alleged conspiracy between Jonny Fly and Michael Simpson. Mister Orbit... go ahead, please.
Steve Orbit: Last month I was approached by Jonny Fly with a business proposition. He told me that New York was about to become the new hot spot for drugs, gambling and prostitution and that these activities were about to become legal. He offered me a peice of the pie, so I took it. I was sworn into the Ridder organization under Fly's leadership-- that's when I met his right hand man, Tom Salemone.
Agent Hutchins: Alright. So, who killed Tom Salemone?
Orbit remains silent for a few moments...
Steve Orbit: I did. But Fly and Simpson set it up. I don't know who's idea it was, but they conspired to order me to do it.
Agent Hutchins: Why would they want Fly's right hand man dead?
Steve Orbit: They told me he was gonna talk to the feds and fuck our shit up. That's a violation of the G-Code-- you snitch, you gotta go. Period.
Agent Hutchins: Continue.
Steve Orbit: Simpson set up the meeting with Salemone, and I picked him off from the rooftop. I pulled the trigger, but it wasn't my idea. I was doing it to protect the organization... to protect myself, and protect Fly. The fuckin' bastard.
Agent Hutchins: Well, Mr. Orbit, this is quite a compelling tale, but you said you had solid proof.
Steve Orbit: I do. Minutes before I took care of Salemone, me and Simpson had a conversation about it. I was gettin' paranoid because you mother fuckers were following me around everywhere, harassing my friends and shit, so I taped the conversation.
Hutchins puts his head in his hands and rubs his eyes.
Agent Hutchins: No... no. Son of a bitch. Where's the tape?
Steve Orbit: It's in a safe place with a friend of mine. I can direct you to it-- and I have more than one copy, in case you decide to get happy and throw it out or somethin'. Can I trust you?
Agent Hutchins: I don't think you have much of a choice.
Steve Orbit: Aight. It's in Pennsylvania with my friend Havana Ginger. At her crib. You can send somebody for it, but I need to talk to her first. She ain't gonna give it to nobody until I give the word.
Agent Hutchins: I need to hear the tape for myself. If it checks out, and it's enough to peice this whole thing together, you'll get your immunity and all of your possessions back-- for you, everything will return to the way it was before the raid.
Orbit nods.
Steve Orbit: Good. Aight... good.
Hutchins stops the tape recorder.
Agent Hutchins: This is fucking unbelievable.
Steve Orbit: Not really, if you think about it. Anyway, what now?
Agent Hutchins: Give me twenty-four hours to pick up the tape and have my people examine it. If it's what you say it is, I'll put in your release papers immediately and you'll be out by Monday.
Orbit smiles.
Steve Orbit: Aight. You do that.
Hutchins breathes a deep sigh.
Agent Hutchins: Mister Orbit, you're getting off the hook for a lot of very bad things that you did. Don't think I won't have my eye on you-- I will. I'd suggest you reevaluate your lifestyle choices and try to stay on the right side of the law.
Hutchins extends his hand to Orbit.
Agent Hutchins: On the flip side, I've been trying to put the clamp on Fly for years. Thank you for your cooperation.
Orbit looks at Hutchins' hand, but doesn't shake it.
Steve Orbit: If I'm outta here on Monday I'll shake your mother fuckin' hand.
Hutchins retracts his hand. Just then--
"This interview is over, my client will not be answering any more questions."
A thin black man with glasses, wearing a very expensive looking, custom tailored suit, enters the room. He has a briefcase in hand.
"Jeff Wynn, Wynn & Wynn. I've been hired to represent Mister Orbit in this case."
Steve Orbit: I don't think that'll be necessary, homie.
Wynn is confused.
Jeff Wynn: What? What you talkin' about, son?
Agent Hutchins: We're working on dropping the charges, Mister Wynn. If you'd like to help me fill out the paperwork...
Jeff Wynn: Y'all gonna pay my usual hourly rate?
Hutchins chuckles and shakes his head "no".
Jeff Wynn: Well then, I suppose my work is done here, isn't it.
Wynn exits as quickly as he entered.
Agent Hutchins: I'll be in touch, Mister Orbit.
Hutchins pulls out his cellphone and begins to make a call while exiting the room. The guard enters the room and leads Orbit out.
==
Hours later, at an undisclosed location-- the same one in the opening of this story, several FBI agents are gathered around the table. Noticably absent is Michael Simpson. Agent Hutchins is at the head once again. There is a tape recorder on the table, playing the conversation between Simpson and Orbit.
"But why? I mean, I thought Fly trusted this mother fucker."
"Things change-- people change. Fly's gut is telling him that Tom is going to turn him over to the authorities. That's good enough for me. Plus, he doesn't really need him anymore now that he has you around to take over as his right hand man."
"Aight... no doubt."
"Tom will be here any minute. Head up to the roof, the rifle is all set up. You sure you know how to fire it?"
"Please, Mike-- I know my way around a fuckin' firearm. I was in this group, Cryo-- nah, forget it, long story. Trust me, I got this."
"Alright then. Go to the roof and wait for my signal."
The recording ends. There's murmuring around the table. Nobody can believe it.
Agent Hutchins: This is it... we struck gold, fellas.
A small round of applause.
Agent Killington: It certainly sounds like Michael. We'll have some voice and audio specialists run some tests on it, but... I'm convinced. It makes sense. Simpson was the one who led us to Orbit in the first place. It was all a set up... son of a bitch.
Agent Hutchins: Should we bring in Simpson?
Agent Killington: Absolutely not. We don't want to spook him just yet. Wait until we get the test results and we're 100% sure.
Agent Hutchins: And Fly?
Agent Killington: Same deal. Simpson will be an open and shut case with this tape. If we're bringing in Fly, we should use the tape to build a more complete case against him. We don't want anymore fuck ups.
Agent Hutchins: That's for sure. I'll bring the tape over to the audio guys now and we'll get this thing rolling.
Agent Killington: What about Orbit?
Agent Hutchins: We've gotta cut him loose. He's given us more with this tape than we've been able to gather on our own in years. He wants immunity, I'm inclined to give it to him.
Agent Killington: Fair enough.
Agent Hutchins: Jonny Fly... he almost fooled us again, gentlemen. Almost.
With that, the meeting ajourns, and we fade out.
==
MONDAY, DECEMBER 9
Nearby, at an undisclosed location, several FBI agents sit around a table. At the head of the table is Agent Hutchins, who has led the investigation into Steve Orbit's illegal activities. Cups of coffee and black suits everywhere. Another agent sits to his left-- this is Agent Killington, a senior official with the FBI in Nevada.
Agent Killington: Have we made any progress with Orbit?
Hutchins shakes his head.
Agent Hutchins: He's still not talking.
Agent Killington: What methods have we used?
Agent Hutchins: Nothing too excessive. I had a couple of the local detectives sweat him out for a few hours-- got nothing. Tomorrow, I'm going to pay him a visit personally.
A man we recognize raises his hand at the table. He's Michael Simpson, an FBI analyst from New York who helped tie Orbit into Fly's operation, basically sealing the deal for Orbit's arrest.
Agent Simpson: Mr. Hutchins, if I may--
Hutchins nods.
Agent Simpson: You're not going to break Orbit. He's street-hardened, and he's no stranger to prison. He has that jail mentality-- you know how they are. He'd rather rot in prison than cooperate with the authorities.
Agent Hutchins: Interesting, since those are really the only two options available to him.
Agent Simpson: It's my opinion that you're wasting your time trying to flip him. He won't talk-- he won't give anybody else up. He won't give us anything we can use. Besides, he was the one pulling the strings. With him behind bars, the rest of the Ridder organization will crumble. We've been focusing on the wrong guy for too long.
Hutchins raises an eyebrow.
Agent Hutchins: Fly?
Agent Simpson: Exactly. Fly was working for Orbit-- not the other way around. We got the big fish. All that's left is to fry him.
Several of the agents chuckle.
Agent Hutchins: And fry he will.
Simpson grins. Agent Hutchins dismisses the meeting, and they begin to exit the room. Fade out.
==
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 10
Scene opens at High Desert State Prison. We're inside the Administrative Segregation Unit. Dozens of highly secured, single prisoner cells line each side of the hall. A large, female guard walks down the hall until she reaches cell number 18. Through a small plexiglass window, we see "The Mack" Steve Orbit inside of the 6x8 cell, which isn't much larger than closet. He's unshaven, wearing an orange prison jumpsuit, and laying on his cot. The guard taps on the window. Orbit flinches, and then gets up and puts his face to the window.
Steve Orbit: Shit, I been waitin' all day for you, baby--
Guard: Cut the shit, Orbit.
She turns and yells to another officer.
Guard: EIGHTEEN, COMING OUT!
Orbit puts his hands through a small slot and he is handcuffed. The guard opens the cell and Orbit is led down the hall.
Steve Orbit: Where we goin'? Chow time already? Or you finally gonna give me some of that ass? I got the blind spots on the cameras all mapped out--
The guard shoves Orbit forward.
Guard: Last warning. You've only been here for a day-- you're going to learn to change that fucking tone around me, you understand? You will respect me and you will do as your told while you're a guest of the state.
Orbit mumbles something like "whatever ho" under his breath.
Guard: You've got a visitor.
Orbit's eyes light up.
Steve Orbit: Yo, is it a female? Yo, do I get conjugal visits and shit?
The guard just shakes her head and takes a deep breath, dragging Orbit through the door.
Guard: No, and no. Now come on.
==
The scene cuts to moments later. Orbit sits in front of a table in an interrogation room inside the prison. His hands are still cuffed behind him and the same female guard is by the door. Agent Hutchins paces around the table, sipping a cup of coffee. He probably just ate a box of donuts on the way but that's another story. Fucking pigs.
Agent Hutchins: Mr. Orbit, you're aware of the time and energy that the bureau, and myself personally have put into this investigation. We know just about everything there is to know about you and your organization.
Orbit chuckles.
Agent Hutchins: Something funny?
Steve Orbit: "My" organization. That's a good one.
Hutchins pauses for a moment and then continues.
Agent Hutchins: As I was saying, we know just about everything-- but there are a few final peices to this puzzle that we'd love to put together. You're an intelligent man-- you know what you're facing here. We've taken everything you own, you're looking at life in prison, et cetera. You're finished, Orbit. Now, as I said, there are a few questions that I need answered, and if you can answer them for me, I have the ability to make the rest of your life more comfortable. I could recommend to the judge that you serve out your sentence in a nice, white collar facility. I might even be able to get you out on parole one day, if you tell me what I want to know.
Orbit shakes his head.
Steve Orbit: Oh, that's nice. "Parole one day". The fuck outta here with that shit-- I'm fuckin' innocent. I been set up. This shit is a bum wrap. And I want a lawyer, I ain't talkin' to you no more without no lawyer.
Agent Hutchins: I figured you'd say something like that. Let me just tell you, then, what I want from you. The Ridder organization has operated above the law for far too long to not have any sources on the inside. For the organization to have lasted this long without help is... well, impossible. What I want from you is names. I want to know who's on the payroll. Politicians, law enforcement, judges-- anyone who's in their pocket. If you can provide me with that information, I'll help you in return. If not... well, I promise you, justice will be swift and strong, and you'll spend the rest of your life in a shithole like this.
Orbit appears unphased by Hutchins' remarks. There are a few moments of silence. Orbit stares at the wall.
Agent Hutchins: I'm going to give you the rest of the week to consider my offer. I'll be back on Friday. If you still want to be some kind of street hero and remain loyal to the same people who would throw you under the bus in a heartbeat, that's your choice to live with. I hope you'll make the right decision and accept my offer.
Orbit looks up at Hutchins and they lock eyes. Orbit still refuses to speak. After a few moments, Hutchins leaves, motioning for the guard to let him out.
Agent Hutchins: Friday.
Hutchins leaves. The guard leads Orbit out of the room.
==
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 11
Scene opens inside the visitation unit. There is a thick plexiglass wall separating the prisoners from the free. Among the twenty or so chairs, we find Bishop Don "Magic" Juan, world-reknowned pimp-turned-preacher and spiritual advisor to many high-profile celebrities, including Steve Orbit. Orbit sits across from him, behind the plastic. They speak through a telephone.
Bishop: How you holdin' up in here, cuz?
Orbit shrugs.
Steve Orbit: It is what it is. The hole is killin' me though. I wish I could be out here with the niggas, but--
Bishop: You know that's not a possibility. As a celebrity, you're a target.
Steve Orbit: Yeah. Yeah, I know. It's just... man, all that time by myself, it's like the walls are closin' in on me, homie.
Bishop: You're never truly alone.
Orbit doesn't understand. Bishop looks towards the ceiling. Orbit nods.
Bishop: Anyway, I haven't heard from you in months-- I was surprised to see that you had called.
Steve Orbit: I appreciate you comin' out.
Bishop: Shit, I never say no to Vegas-- uh, I mean, you know I got you, cuz.
They both laugh.
Bishop: So what's this about? Is all them charges for real or is this another FBI crusade against a black celebrity?
Steve Orbit: Well... it's complicated, you know what I'm sayin'? I got myself into some shit, but I ain't the mother fucker they think I am. I got framed, yo.
Bishop: Do you know who set you up?
Steve Orbit: Definitely. I had a joint venture type of thing goin' with this whiteboy, Jonny Fly.
Bishop: THE Jonny Fly?
Steve Orbit: Yeah, you heard of him?
Bishop: Hell yeah, best fuckin' wrestler in the worl--
Bishop catches himself mid-sentence. Orbit's nostrils flare.
Bishop: I mean, yeah, you know. I think I remember seeing him when I was checkin' you out on TV. Weren't y'all on the same side recently?
Steve Orbit: Yeah, but I fucked up. My gut told me he was gonna fuck me over, but I ain't listen. With my dumb ass, and you see where it got me? Fuck.
Bishop: Alright... check this out. If you know you been set up, and you know WHO set you up-- is there any proof? Any way you can cast some reasonable doubt on them charges?
Steve Orbit: Well... yeah, I mean, there's definitely proof. Solid, physical mother fuckin' evidence. I got it somewhere safe. This FBI mother fucker is comin' back here Friday to meet with me, but I dunno.
Bishop: You don't know what? If you got a way to get yourself outta here, you gotta do that while you still got a chance. You don't wanna do no life sentence, Steve-- I've met with plenty of lifers, and... you just gotta trust me, homie. You don't wanna stay in here for life.
Steve Orbit: Nah, I don't, but... I dunno, Don. I feel fucked up talkin' to the feds. It's like I'm goin' against everything I stand for, everything I represent-- it's against my nature, you know what I'm sayin'? And maybe I deserve to do life. I mean... nobody forced my hand, you know what I'm sayin'? Maybe I should just be a mother fuckin' man and deal with this shit.
Bishop looks at Orbit for a few moments and then busts out laughing.
Bishop: Be a man? [laughs] You a damn fool, Steve. You gonna let the man who set you up go free, while you rottin' away in a cell? Let me tell you somethin', Steve. Twenty years from now, that Jonny Fly mother fucker will be layin' on a beach somewhere, retired, talkin' to some young bitch about how he framed Steve Orbit and stayed his ass out of prison once again. And you? You gonna be sittin' right there, in the same damn cell, talkin' to mother fuckers like me through a window. Maybe you'll have yourself... [laughs] maybe you'll have yourself a nice girlfriend in here. A boy, girlfriend. [laughs]
Orbit's not amused.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, real fuckin' funny-- I dunno why I asked you to come here, man. I thought you was gonna tell me some encouraging words or give me some guidance and shit.
Bishop: Aight, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm tryin' to help you, I'm just tellin' you the truth. You want some guidance? Check this out. You are sitting in this cell right now-- not because you slipped. Not because you fucked up. You're sitting there so Jonny Fly can be a free man. You're taking the fall for him, you're his fall guy. If you wanna talk about your morals and being a man and sticking to the G-Code, that's great, but the fact is that HE is the one who violated the code. Not you. If you talk to the feds, it's because HE put you in this fucked up position. You ain't put yourself here. Remember that.
Orbit lets it soak in for a few moments, and then starts nodding his head.
Steve Orbit: Yeah. You right, I didn't put myself here. I'm takin' the fall for that mother fucker. I ain't nobody's fall guy-- fuck that mother fucker. Fuck a Jonny Fly.
Bishop: That's what I'm sayin'. You talkin' about your LIFE, homie. Your very existance on this PLANET. It's you or him, Steve. You or him. This ain't a game. You gotta do right by yourself-- you don't owe nobody nothin'.
Steve Orbit: I know. You right. I need to make him pay for this shit.
There's a brief moment of silence.
Bishop: What happened to you, Steve? When we was talkin' a few months ago, you was talkin' about gettin' your life together, straightening out and shit-- you wanted to run your own legitimate business, and you wanted to become a better man. What happened?
Steve Orbit: I...
Orbit struggles to answer.
Steve Orbit: I dunno, man. I just... I fucked up, Don. I fucked up. For real.
A loud buzzer sounds. Visiting time is over.
Bishop: I'll be back to see you, aight?
Steve Orbit: Hopefully not. At least, not here.
Bishop: Pray about everything, man. Ask for guidance. You'll get it.
Bishop and Orbit each hang up their end of the phone. Several guards come to escort Orbit away from the other inmates, and Bishop gets up to leave.
==
FRIDAY, DECEMBER 13
Scene opens in the interrogation room. The same one where the meeting between Orbit and Agent Hutchins took place on Tuesday. And, once again, we find the same set-up-- Orbit is sitting in a chair at the table, handcuffed. Agent Hutchins is wearing a black suit and still a fucking pig who loves donuts. The fat female guard stands by the door, and the meeting is on.
Agent Hutchins: Time's up, Orbit. Are you ready to tell me what I want to know?
Steve Orbit: I can't tell you what I don't know, man.
Hutchins smirks.
Agent Hutchins: Alright, then-- it's settled. Have a nice life. Watch your ass in here-- I mean that in a literal sense.
Steve Orbit: Very funny. Listen, before you go, I do have some information that you might be interested in.
Agent Hutchins: That right?
Steve Orbit: Yeah. Just hear me out for a minute. What if I told you I had proof that I been set up?
Agent Hutchins: I'd tell you you're full of shit.
Steve Orbit: Aight, that's fair. That's fair enough. Let me ask you somethin'-- there's a guy, one of your FBI guys, who broke the big tip on me, right? One guy in particular who thought it would be a good idea to focus on me, one guy who linked me to Fly and the Ridder organization. Right?
Hutchins raises his eyebrow, but doesn't answer the question.
Steve Orbit: ... And his name is Simpson, right?
Hutchins rubs his chin. He takes a seat at the table.
Agent Hutchins: So somebody tipped you off on who investigated you. Big deal. Doesn't prove anything.
Orbit chuckles.
Steve Orbit: Is your head really that far up your ass? A couple months ago, I was nobody. You KNOW that. I was out in Oakland tryin' to open a God damn business, and now I'm here and y'all are accusing me of running the fuckin' mafia for the last six months. How does that even make sense? You-- YOU, of all people, know that Fly is the one who's in charge. You really think Fly would work for ANYONE else, let alone a nigga like ME?
Hutchins seems to be considering Orbit's words-- and then he shakes his head.
Agent Hutchins: You've got nothing to stand on, Orbit. You're not talking your way out of this. We've got a trusted agent who's corroborated Fly's story. Not to mention the VIDEO FOOTAGE of you murdering Tom Salemone.
Steve Orbit: Yeah, about that-- if y'all want me to talk, I need immunity. I need immunity from everything.
Agent Hutchins: That's not a promise I'm prepared to make.
Steve Orbit: How 'bout we start with this, then-- can we take these damn cuffs off?
Hutchins motions towards the guard. She takes the key off of her belt and unlatches Orbit's cuffs. He rubs his wrists and then crosses his arms in front of him on the table. Hutchins stops the guard.
Agent Hutchins: Can we have some privacy, please?
Guard: You sure you wanna be in here with an uncuffed murderer?
Agent Hutchins: I can handle myself, thank you.
The guard leaves the room.
Steve Orbit: Listen, I don't think y'all are stupid. I just think... I think you been duped. Baboozled. Hustled.
Agent Hutchins: By whom?
Orbit gives that look, like... are you fucking serious.
Steve Orbit: You know who. Jonny mother fuckin' Fly. And his homeboy, Michael Simpson.
Agent Hutchins: Michael Simpson has been a trusted analyst for over ten years. I find it hard to believe that he's working with Fly.
Steve Orbit: You said you wanted names? I'm giving you a fuckin' name.
Agent Hutchins: And you can prove this.
Steve Orbit: Beyond the shadow of a doubt.
Hutchins sighs. He takes a mini tape recorder out of his pocket and places it on the table.
Steve Orbit: Before you turn that on-- you gonna give me what I want?
Agent Hutchins: If you can prove that Michael Simpson and Jonny Fly worked together to frame you, and you agree to testify if needed, I can guarantee you full immunity from all crimes.
Steve Orbit: That's good. But I want all my shit back, too.
Agent Hutchins: Hold on a sec--
Steve Orbit: YOU hold on. I want my shit back. The Club, my money, my rides-- if any of my girls have been caught up in this thing, I want them released immediately and the charges dropped. It's only fair.
Hutchins considers the offer.
Steve Orbit: And I want you to say that shit on that fuckin' tape recorder so you can't fuck me over later.
Agent Hutchins: Alright. I suppose if we've made a mistake... IF we've made a mistake, you are entitled to that. It's a deal, but you're going to have to produce some rock solid evidence.
Orbit flashes the first genuine smile we've seen thus far.
Steve Orbit: Hit record.
Agent Hutchins: Tell me everything. Start from the beginning.
Hutchins presses the record button.
Agent Hutchins: This is Agent Hutchins. Friday the thirteenth of December, 2013. I'm presently in the interrogation unit of High Desert State Prison with Steve Orbit conducting a witness interview regarding the alleged conspiracy between Jonny Fly and Michael Simpson. Mister Orbit... go ahead, please.
Steve Orbit: Last month I was approached by Jonny Fly with a business proposition. He told me that New York was about to become the new hot spot for drugs, gambling and prostitution and that these activities were about to become legal. He offered me a peice of the pie, so I took it. I was sworn into the Ridder organization under Fly's leadership-- that's when I met his right hand man, Tom Salemone.
Agent Hutchins: Alright. So, who killed Tom Salemone?
Orbit remains silent for a few moments...
Steve Orbit: I did. But Fly and Simpson set it up. I don't know who's idea it was, but they conspired to order me to do it.
Agent Hutchins: Why would they want Fly's right hand man dead?
Steve Orbit: They told me he was gonna talk to the feds and fuck our shit up. That's a violation of the G-Code-- you snitch, you gotta go. Period.
Agent Hutchins: Continue.
Steve Orbit: Simpson set up the meeting with Salemone, and I picked him off from the rooftop. I pulled the trigger, but it wasn't my idea. I was doing it to protect the organization... to protect myself, and protect Fly. The fuckin' bastard.
Agent Hutchins: Well, Mr. Orbit, this is quite a compelling tale, but you said you had solid proof.
Steve Orbit: I do. Minutes before I took care of Salemone, me and Simpson had a conversation about it. I was gettin' paranoid because you mother fuckers were following me around everywhere, harassing my friends and shit, so I taped the conversation.
Hutchins puts his head in his hands and rubs his eyes.
Agent Hutchins: No... no. Son of a bitch. Where's the tape?
Steve Orbit: It's in a safe place with a friend of mine. I can direct you to it-- and I have more than one copy, in case you decide to get happy and throw it out or somethin'. Can I trust you?
Agent Hutchins: I don't think you have much of a choice.
Steve Orbit: Aight. It's in Pennsylvania with my friend Havana Ginger. At her crib. You can send somebody for it, but I need to talk to her first. She ain't gonna give it to nobody until I give the word.
Agent Hutchins: I need to hear the tape for myself. If it checks out, and it's enough to peice this whole thing together, you'll get your immunity and all of your possessions back-- for you, everything will return to the way it was before the raid.
Orbit nods.
Steve Orbit: Good. Aight... good.
Hutchins stops the tape recorder.
Agent Hutchins: This is fucking unbelievable.
Steve Orbit: Not really, if you think about it. Anyway, what now?
Agent Hutchins: Give me twenty-four hours to pick up the tape and have my people examine it. If it's what you say it is, I'll put in your release papers immediately and you'll be out by Monday.
Orbit smiles.
Steve Orbit: Aight. You do that.
Hutchins breathes a deep sigh.
Agent Hutchins: Mister Orbit, you're getting off the hook for a lot of very bad things that you did. Don't think I won't have my eye on you-- I will. I'd suggest you reevaluate your lifestyle choices and try to stay on the right side of the law.
Hutchins extends his hand to Orbit.
Agent Hutchins: On the flip side, I've been trying to put the clamp on Fly for years. Thank you for your cooperation.
Orbit looks at Hutchins' hand, but doesn't shake it.
Steve Orbit: If I'm outta here on Monday I'll shake your mother fuckin' hand.
Hutchins retracts his hand. Just then--
"This interview is over, my client will not be answering any more questions."
A thin black man with glasses, wearing a very expensive looking, custom tailored suit, enters the room. He has a briefcase in hand.
"Jeff Wynn, Wynn & Wynn. I've been hired to represent Mister Orbit in this case."
Steve Orbit: I don't think that'll be necessary, homie.
Wynn is confused.
Jeff Wynn: What? What you talkin' about, son?
Agent Hutchins: We're working on dropping the charges, Mister Wynn. If you'd like to help me fill out the paperwork...
Jeff Wynn: Y'all gonna pay my usual hourly rate?
Hutchins chuckles and shakes his head "no".
Jeff Wynn: Well then, I suppose my work is done here, isn't it.
Wynn exits as quickly as he entered.
Agent Hutchins: I'll be in touch, Mister Orbit.
Hutchins pulls out his cellphone and begins to make a call while exiting the room. The guard enters the room and leads Orbit out.
==
Hours later, at an undisclosed location-- the same one in the opening of this story, several FBI agents are gathered around the table. Noticably absent is Michael Simpson. Agent Hutchins is at the head once again. There is a tape recorder on the table, playing the conversation between Simpson and Orbit.
"But why? I mean, I thought Fly trusted this mother fucker."
"Things change-- people change. Fly's gut is telling him that Tom is going to turn him over to the authorities. That's good enough for me. Plus, he doesn't really need him anymore now that he has you around to take over as his right hand man."
"Aight... no doubt."
"Tom will be here any minute. Head up to the roof, the rifle is all set up. You sure you know how to fire it?"
"Please, Mike-- I know my way around a fuckin' firearm. I was in this group, Cryo-- nah, forget it, long story. Trust me, I got this."
"Alright then. Go to the roof and wait for my signal."
The recording ends. There's murmuring around the table. Nobody can believe it.
Agent Hutchins: This is it... we struck gold, fellas.
A small round of applause.
Agent Killington: It certainly sounds like Michael. We'll have some voice and audio specialists run some tests on it, but... I'm convinced. It makes sense. Simpson was the one who led us to Orbit in the first place. It was all a set up... son of a bitch.
Agent Hutchins: Should we bring in Simpson?
Agent Killington: Absolutely not. We don't want to spook him just yet. Wait until we get the test results and we're 100% sure.
Agent Hutchins: And Fly?
Agent Killington: Same deal. Simpson will be an open and shut case with this tape. If we're bringing in Fly, we should use the tape to build a more complete case against him. We don't want anymore fuck ups.
Agent Hutchins: That's for sure. I'll bring the tape over to the audio guys now and we'll get this thing rolling.
Agent Killington: What about Orbit?
Agent Hutchins: We've gotta cut him loose. He's given us more with this tape than we've been able to gather on our own in years. He wants immunity, I'm inclined to give it to him.
Agent Killington: Fair enough.
Agent Hutchins: Jonny Fly... he almost fooled us again, gentlemen. Almost.
With that, the meeting ajourns, and we fade out.
