Will You Die With Me?

Quotes

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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 49 | Loc. 718-19  | Added on Saturday, October 04, 2014, 10:52 AM

Robert Beck, aka Iceberg Slim—now famous for best-selling novels of street life in the 1960s, patterned after his adventures as a big-time pimp—was one of the most memorable business owners on my paper route. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 66 | Loc. 940-44  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:26 PM

the educational phase also became a mass organizing tool that attracted thousands of people to the ranks of the BPP. She said that Huey thought this was great, but it was also “ass backwards,” because when the ranks swelled, many of the people joining were not known to the original organizers in Oakland, so what you got was a lot of little Black Panther fiefdoms. Huey said it was difficult for the Party’s leadership to get its arms around this huge operation that had grown exponentially. It also made it easy for police agencies to plant informants and agents provocateurs. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 66 | Loc. 950-51  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:26 PM

What came out of the Long March were a common program and agenda and a base of operations from which to sortie and wage revolution as one organization. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 67 | Loc. 962-68  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:28 PM

“Comrades, we are here to build the new revolution in Oakland, the ‘base of operation.’ Yes, this is the base of operation. We are going to learn what it is like to practice and implement ‘the correct handling of the revolution.’ The Servant and I brought you all here so that we can build an organization that has a common program and agenda—an organization that knows what it stands for. In the next several months I will declare my candidacy for the office of mayor of Oakland. And sister Elaine Brown is going to run for one of the nine city council seats. You know me and the Servant, we’ve been researching the government here, and we have determined that if we take over the city of Oakland and make it our base, we can wage a righteous revolution that will free the people of this city. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 67 | Loc. 970-73  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:29 PM

So we need to run a slate of candidates along with sister Elaine and take control of a majority to control the process. But the key to all of this is the port of Oakland.” He pointed in the direction he believed the port was in. “The mayor makes the appointments to the Port Commission and the council approves. And comrades, that’s were the loot is. The money we need to finance our revolution.” 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 69 | Loc. 998-99  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:31 PM

The longer I was here, the more I could see that tension between individual Panthers in the field selling papers and the police was nonexistent. In fact, I was in Oakland for two or three days before I saw a police car. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 77 | Loc. 1120-22  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:42 PM

We practiced gun safety to a fault, because as Masai constantly reminded us, “This is your job in the Party, so get good at it, because the central committee and the Servant have big plans for this new unit.” 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 79 | Loc. 1141-45  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:44 PM

Huey had said we don’t know what we have as a Party, so let’s find out who all of these niggers are. And that’s when we started our long retreat, closing down chapters and branches, and bringing everybody here so that we could establish Oakland as the base of operations. Shit, before we did that, the Party was this national phenomenon, made up of twenty to forty chapters and branches of people who didn’t know each other. That’s not how this is supposed to be. How in the hell could we fight a war without knowing who we are and without having one centralized location to train people as a jumping-off point? 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 80 | Loc. 1152-54  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:46 PM

However, Masai told me in private that we were being trained for a larger role in the Party’s five-year plan to take over the city of Oakland. We were to be the shock troops that fired the first shots against the drug dealers whom Huey wanted to tax and regulate. But this would be only if they resisted the Servant’s tax policy. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 81 | Loc. 1163-65  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:46 PM

Their personal security people would also be dressed in suits, ties, et cetera. (BPP personal security personnel were often described by Huey P. Newton as decoys for lurking assassins. This was part of his sinister tactical mind that had to grow on you.) 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 81 | Loc. 1172-74  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:48 PM

If something went down, the person had an escape route and the number of Jimmy Johnson in LA. Once he got to the airport, he would call Jimmy, who would place him in the underground network he had set up down south. We had to use this system only once, but it didn’t involve the chairman or the campaign. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 85 | Loc. 1231-33  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:56 PM

A few days after Masai and Poison were transferred in the fall of 1972, Robert Bay and John Seale came by to tell me that the Servant had appointed me the new head of security for the Black Panther Party. I was twenty years old. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 86 | Loc. 1241-47  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 12:57 PM

Rob looked like a big, light-skinned Buddha with a full beard. I asked him why he called me Fly. “That’s what the Servant calls you, brother. He gets reports on you guys from all over the place, on operations, from niggers on the street, what have you. He likes your work, thinks you’re what a real Panther should be like.” He glanced at me when he said that. “You got a lot of juice, young brother, and a lot of people think you’re out of your league. But what matters is what the Servant thinks. Right on?” “Right on,” I said. “Huey thinks you’re a pretty cool customer, so he started calling you ‘Fly’ back when Masai was pushing you to be groomed for the top spot to replace Poison.” I didn’t respond but thought, That’s why Poison used to treat me funny. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 91 | Loc. 1311-25  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 01:04 PM

There was this one time when the house manager of the Fox Theater was up at the house trying to cut some kind of a deal with Huey. This was the first time I saw the shock-a-boo-coo. This was during the period when the Party had a lease at the entertainment venue from which we showed movies and were planning to bring in live performances once we bought the place, which was the Servant’s intention. I think this guy’s name was Claude. He was short and dark and thought he was big shit. He was invited up to the Servant’s house after running into him at the Lamp Post. He insisted that Huey had accepted him as a member of the Party. Huey said, “Well, comrade, we need to initiate you with the sacred ceremony so that you will be a trusted warrior incognito.” When I heard that, I looked over at June, John, and Big Rob to gauge their reaction. They were stoned-faced but began to dress right (military style) behind Huey. They took out their weapons and crossed their arms with their handguns in their hands. Huey looked at me with those large deep eyes and motioned for me to take out my gun and walk over to Claude, who was kneeling in front of Huey, as he had been instructed to. Huey instructed me to place my gun at Claude’s head. Then he began a long, unintelligible incantation about the street gods and black warrior trustees who looked over living Panthers and helped dead Panthers who were in purgatory because they were too tough for hell. At the end of this long spiel, Huey motioned his head at me and looked down at my .45 auto. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but it appeared that he wanted me to cock my weapon. So that was what I did. He quickly moved my gun away from the man’s head and pointed for me to go sit down. He lifted Claude, who was shaking from head to toe. He welcomed Claude as the newest member of the BPP and told Big Rob to give him a ride home. Huey started laughing and looked at June and John, who were also cracking up. Huey came over to me and said, “What were you doing, comrade?” I paused, then said, “I thought you were motioning for me to cock my gun.” 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 92 | Loc. 1332-34  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 01:05 PM

We don’t know what’s-his-name, and the nigger won’t be working for us besides working at the Fox. Look, Flores, rituals are for people we don’t trust. The nigger wants in on the stern stuff, so why not do something to use him and make him think he’s one of us. But remember, comrade, he will never be one of you.” 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 96 | Loc. 1370-74  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 01:11 PM

I can remember only one large operation—when Huey wanted to send a specific message to the largest speakeasy on San Pablo, a placed called the Black Knight. We swarmed the place. Huey was inside with June, Big Rob, and about ten other Panthers. We stopped all business while the Servant read the owners, Cole and Larry, the riot act. Most of these nig-gers had never seen this many black men with guns carrying out a disciplined operation against them. They were defenseless against us. To whom could they go for support? As the Servant used to say, “They can’t call the police.” 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 96 | Loc. 1378-91  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 01:13 PM

Mojo, me, and three other brothers planned this operation as a team. We would use two rented cars. Mojo and a driver would pull up in front of the joint with an AK-47 and stitch a neat little pattern across the top floor, where the gunmen would be positioned. I would be in the second car for backup with an M16 and the other brothers with two riot shotguns. We arrived at about three in the morning and the joint was jumping. I positioned my car on a street that was maybe a hundred feet from a street perpendicular to Shattuck. It was dark on this side street, so we were able to leave the car and crouch in the bushes nearby. We left our trunk open. Mojo and his driver pulled up in front of the club. Mojo stepped out of the car and walked to the middle of the street. His silhouette was eerie. Dressed in that long coat and large floppy hat, he was holding an automatic weapon in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He threw the cigarette in the street and stomped on it. He raised his weapon and the muzzle began flashing with a delayed report. We could see the impact as the bullets hit the club, shattering the silence outside. He was laying down tracks from one end of the club to the other. He stopped, flipped the banana clips, and continued shooting. The stampede began. Just as he jumped into his waiting car, people came bursting out of the front door running in these low crouches. Mojo’s driver hit the gas and turned sharply onto the street where we were parked. We had moved to the corner, covering them as they drove up. Mojo jumped from his car and threw the AK-47 into the open trunk of our car. He jumped back into his car and sped off. We waited for a few more seconds as I surveyed the situation, taking careful note of the damage and the chaos. From this moment forward, they paid on time. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 97 | Loc. 1397-1401  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 01:14 PM

I met with Big Rob to discuss the operation so I could get some perspective on our operating procedures for this one. How much latitude did the Duke and I have to deal with this guy if he disobeyed our orders to raise his hands, for example, or drop to the floor? In other words, what happens when the dude we’re confronting challenges us or, as Masai used to say, takes those actions that “alter the scope of the operation”? Could we go beyond harassing and robbing the guy to blowing him away? Message still delivered. Once I got that issue cleared up we were good to go. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 98 | Loc. 1403-5  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 01:14 PM

I told Mojo the rules of engagement and he gave me two .45s, government-issue 1911s, and said, “Look, youngster, if you guys have to pop this guy, go to the marina—it’s just a few blocks away—and deep-six the whole piece.” “Cool,” I said. “I understand.” 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 101 | Loc. 1461-64  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 01:20 PM

I was twenty-one years old and not afraid of the Party’s discipline. The Servant, Chief of Staff June Hilliard, Assistant Chief of Staff John Seale, and Robert Bay had never said it directly, but I knew I had become one of the people in the Party who was special. Or, to put it another way, my mistakes were the cost of our doing business on this scale. The person who was in trouble was the armorer, Mojo. I learned later that it was this type of sloppy work and bad judgment that got Mojo expelled from the Party. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 108 | Loc. 1546-47  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 09:31 PM

That night and the next morning we went out to the speakeasies to look over our territory, but before we left the Lamp Post, Huey closed by saying to us, “If you are true to the game, the game will always be true to you.” 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 109 | Loc. 1560-65  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 09:32 PM

It was dark outside and Robert took the surface street route instead of the freeway. We were cruising up Sacramento Avenue. As we passed different establishments, Huey pointed out the “joints,” calling out the revenues and what percentage they were being assessed at and then taxed, their names, and how long he had known the specific proprietor. He said, “Comrades, you know we will use the money from these chumps to help pay for our ‘survival programs,’ any future political campaigns, and to underwrite our five-year plan to take over the city of Oakland.” As he was finishing, Rob wheeled into a dirt parking lot behind what looked like a factory or warehouse. There were dozens of cars parked in the lot and on the street. There were Benzes, Cadillacs, Town Cars, you name it. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 111 | Loc. 1584-1606  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 09:37 PM

Booker ushered in a waitress, who took our orders. We all ordered cognac with a club soda back. And then, one by one, ushered in by Booker’s large hands, these guys came through the door wearing big floppy hats, “Lord Jesus” hairstyles, platform shoes, and lots of gold around their necks and on their manicured fingers. They were coming in at intervals, three at a time. And they would occupy the chairs stationed by Huey, directly in front of his desk and chair. He was holding court on the streets. But as each guy came in, he put his hands in his pockets and leather bags. They each pulled out little paper packets, unfolded them, and neatly deposited cocaine on a mirror that was placed before Huey. I could smell the stuff from where I sat. Huey bent over with a hundred-dollar bill that was rolled up like a straw and started snorting. They put so much cocaine down on the mirror that it looked like the little mountain of powder that Al Pacino’s character snorted in the film Scarface. The pyramid ultimately stood about six to eight inches high. Huey was scooping and snorting something fierce. Next he used a straw. He built a little hill of the powder over to the side and took it down his nostril in several dips. These other guys were lining up to take their hits, too, leaning over and snorting with little spoons connected to gold chains around their necks. No one was talking. One of them motioned toward me, offering me the use of his little gold spoon. I shook my head no, thank you. “The brothers are on duty,” Huey said. So they ignored us for the rest of the morning. The guys in the chairs were probably between thirty and fifty years old. They had names like Cole, Larry, Alameda Slim, Dog Slim, Howard Boyd, Billy Byrd, and Terrible Tom, who said he had dug a ten-foot-deep pit in his backyard that he used to throw his bad whores into and then fed them only raw meat. Afterward, Huey said we should not accept anything from them, because someday we would probably have to kill them for not paying. So it was better to distance ourselves from them. Huey stood up and began to pace the floor while launching into one of his one-man performances. He spoke about Li’l Bobby Hutton and his courage as the first member of the Party and the first member of the Party to die in combat; Plato’s Cave allegory; his shoot-out with the Oakland police in October 1967 in which he said the smoking gun was located in his hollowed-out law book; and what we would do when we took over the city of Oakland. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and Big Booker entered, moving quickly past everyone and then leaning over to whisper something in Huey’s ear. Huey nodded his approval and then turned to Robert Bay, saying, “Big Man, call June and tell him the police are surrounding this place and that I may need his help.” Robert said, “Right on, Servant,” and left to go use the phone in the lounge area. Huey then turned to Bethune and me and said with great emotion, “Will you die with me, comrade brothers?” We responded in unison, “Right on, Servant.” He said, “Good, then we’re not going to jail tonight.” Later that morning the police pulled back and we left without an incident. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 114 | Loc. 1632-40  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 09:40 PM

People began to disappear again a month after the Fox Lounge incident. Dozens of comrades who had been in the Party for years were either expelled or left of their own volition. I knew most of the expelled and personally showed some of them the door. This was what Huey had prepared us for. Chairman Bobby Seale, David Hilliard and his brother June, and John Seale were expelled or left voluntarily. Others, including Robert Bay, Gwen Goodloe, Elbert “Big Man” Howard, Bobby Rush, and scores more followed. The security cadre was not immune from this new purge. We lost about five or six good brothers for various reasons. Most of their expulsions occurred at the Servant’s house and involved some incident where the Servant was concerned. The stories were always sketchy, but I figured most of them got up to his house and started tripping about their own self-importance in the Party. Hanging around Huey was like a high. I knew these brothers, and it wasn’t unusual for them to be high-strung because they were involved in the stern stuff, and sometimes that shit would go to your head. Enormous egos are not willing to take any shit or back down. Those sessions at his house were like time bombs waiting to go off, as they did around August 1974. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 117 | Loc. 1659-64  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 09:42 PM

“Flores,” Elaine said, “we will be asking you to do more.” I nodded. “Damn, Fly, you should be excited,” Bethune said. “You’ve been here getting down for a long time, and now the other brothers and sisters will have to risk their lives doing some of this stuff.” “Right on,” I said. “I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep the Party moving ahead.” Both of them seemed disappointed that I had responded with so little passion. But at this time I couldn’t worry about that. I knew the transition was going to be rough. I had nothing to be excited about because this wasn’t a job or career for me. This was my life. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 119 | Loc. 1692-1708  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 09:46 PM

These were the conditions and environment under which many a nigger was shot. But not us, we weren’t going for it. With all of the confusion, shouting, lights flashing, and nervous tension, we calmed down and took the bust like we knew we should. They put us all in separate rooms again. At the police station I saw Captain Colletti and the ATF agent J. J. Newberry once more. I was fingerprinted but not charged. My release came several hours later, but as I was being led to the release point to sign some papers and meet Smokey, the BPP’s legal affairs coordinator, I was astonished at what I heard as I waited in the hallway holding area. “Comrade, I’m over here.” It was Huey, in a holding cell. I looked around and walked over to the cell. “Do you have any ciga-rettes?” he asked. “Yeah,” I said while reaching into my pocket and gesturing to the jailer that I was going to hand the pack to Huey. The jailer nodded that it was okay. “Keep them, Servant, I’m getting out.” “Good, Flores, that’s good. Sister Elaine will need you now more than ever.” I didn’t realize what he meant then. However, the entire night started to come together for me. We had been arrested because they were looking for the Servant. We were released, uncharged, within hours. The Servant was released the next day on bail after being charged with the attempted murder of some prostitute on San Pablo Avenue. The next time I saw Mojo, I was picking him up from the hospital and taking him to the Greyhound bus station in downtown Oakland. He had been expelled and mud-holed while at the Servant’s house. Huey P. Newton disappeared. Warrants were issued for his arrest. The next time I met with Elaine and Bethune, they were not as vague as before. “Flores Forbes,” Elaine said, “you have been appointed to the central committee of the Black Panther Party, and your title is assistant chief of staff. And you have also been appointed the armorer of the Black Panther Party. Congratulations!” I still didn’t say anything. I just shook their hands and went to be by myself. I had to be alone because it was at this moment that I realized I would never leave the Black Panther Party alive. I was twenty-two years old. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Bookmark on Page 122 | Loc. 1733  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 09:48 PM


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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 122 | Loc. 1731-41  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 09:49 PM

I had several duties as the armorer; paramount among them was maintaining the vast inventory of weapons and ammo. I made sure the weapons were functioning properly, by constant testing at the range, and that they were matched up with the right ammo. (I was surprised when people didn’t know the difference between 7.62mm or 7.62×39. The former was for an American M14/M60 and the latter was for the AK-47.) I also serviced and cleaned the inventory and replenished it when necessary. Replenishing the inventory could be tricky. This meant I had to buy or trade with various sources like illegal arms dealers, gun shops, and gun shows. To assist me in these endeavors I needed a team. I had two assistants, both top-flight Panther security personnel: Clark Bailey and Louis T. Johnson. And I had one woman, a white woman. She was my girlfriend, and I also recruited her to assist me in my work. Roni was the only white person who was a member of the BPP. Until the feds caught on, she was my front person at the gun shops and gun shows. Elaine had encouraged me to move in with her because she lived with the Gladwins in the Oakland Hills, away from the flatlands. Tom and Flora Gladwin were major contributors to the Party. They welcomed me with open arms. They were two of the best white radicals I had ever known. Flora was the librarian at our award-winning school in East Oakland, and Tom, well, he was the most interesting of fellows. I never confirmed this, but I heard he had been a CIA analyst at one time. We got along famously and there were never any problems. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 124 | Loc. 1754-61  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 09:51 PM

On the operational side, we created a model of what worked early on with the Duke, Mojo, and me. We developed three-man squads with a good mix of street experience and Vietnam combat experience. There were maybe a dozen brothers in the cadre with real serious Vietnam combat experience in elite U.S. Army units like the 82nd and 101st Airborne, the 173rd Airborne Brigade, and a half-dozen brothers with Ranger patches. We hooked them up with a group of street-smart brothers, making a great outfit. We had strong team leadership with veteran Panthers like Santa Rita, Texas, Aaron Dixon, Rollin Reid, George Robinson, and the Duke. We got even stronger when the brothers came up from LA for some joint operations. These brothers helped develop their individual units and prepare them for some of the stern stuff. We studied most of the so-called urban guerrilla texts, but none of them were written with a U.S. street in mind. So we had to develop our own operational standards. Our weakness was the inability to handle wounded comrades. Everything else we dealt well with. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 129 | Loc. 1826-41  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 09:57 PM

There was mass confusion in the parking lot as Bethune ran toward me saying, “Fly, what in the fuck happened?” I started to explain about the incident when Bruce “Deacon” Washington came hobbling toward us shouting, “Fly, I’m hit!” A chill went up my back. I told Steve Long and one of the Donald brothers to take Deacon to the hospital. Deacon, a dedicated Panther soldier from Philadelphia, died of his wounds the next morning. We buried Deacon and decided that these young motherfuckers would not get away with this. Both of them were wounded and recovering in Highland Hospital in East Oakland, a hospital with a large police presence. “Look,” I told the team of volunteers assembled for this operation, “there is a big OPD substation at the hospital. So you just can’t walk in and shoot these niggas. You gotta get up close, close enough to use a knife.” They nodded that this was cool. “You all know this is not authorized, so you can’t take a bust,” I said. They said to a man that they understood. They told me that they had cased the hospital and worked out a plan. Once they found the floor the targets were on, they could figure out how to get at them and work their way out of the hospital. But they said there was a catch. “Fly, we need some serious shit just in case we have to deal with the police,” one of them said. I looked at them and said, “How serious?” “AK serious, and we need three nine-millimeter Browning pistols.” “You got it,” I said. The night the team went in, Bethune and I were at the Lamp Post having a drink. I got the call around midnight and drove to East Oakland to the safe house the team had returned to. How they got in and out to this day I haven’t a clue. One of the thugs was in the lobby of the hospital visiting with friends, so they passed on him. Good move. However, they found the other one in his room, shanked him, and evaded the police after the nurses and doctors had sounded the alarm. The young nigger didn’t die but was severely wounded. We left it at that and moved on. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 133 | Loc. 1886-92  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:02 PM

I felt like I had come full circle with my life in the BPP. The excitement of the military stuff was not something I would enjoy again, I thought. But the day-to-day tedium of managing a program was losing its luster. I was a Panther official who was working in what was comparable to a 9-to-5. This took getting used to. While I was on probation I couldn’t carry a gun, and Elaine had made it clear to Bethune that I was never to go on another operation. She told me one day when I was complaining about my new role, “Look, nigger, you’re not some Panther gunman anymore; you are the assistant chief of staff and you need to act like it. The Servant said you must also be an administrator. Well, comrade brother, that’s what you are now—a Buddha administrator, and your goddamn Samurai days are numbered.” 21 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 136 | Loc. 1914-22  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:08 PM

A big topic—that is, with Phyllis Jackson—that caused my defensive posture was what I did or should do about my folks who doubled as maintenance personnel, cooks, and executive staff at the school complex. Strategically placed at our most valuable asset were some of our top security people. Some did wear concealed weapons, but the untrained eye would think they were just janitors, cooks, and staff of the nonprofit arm. It was important that our school complex was well secured. But the topic that got me into heated discussions with Phyllis was these guys’ movements. As their coordinator for the daily work they did at the school complex, she complained that she could not account for their whereabouts, as most coordinators in the Party demanded of their staffs. She would start talking about this in the meetings and I would just tighten up and shrink in my chair. I would say, “You need to talk to them and get them to understand.” After the meeting I would go and see Phyllis and tell her on no uncertain terms, “Please don’t talk about that there anymore. If you have any beef about that, let’s talk and work it out.” But she kept talking about it, I kept going to see her about it, 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 137 | Loc. 1922  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:08 PM

and we went back and forth. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 141 | Loc. 1989-2001  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:14 PM

In 1976 we delivered on our part of the deal with Lionel Wilson. We sent out every single Panther, Panther sympathizer, and Party volunteer to work for his campaign, and he became the first black mayor of the city of Oakland. Elaine had come back from visiting Huey in Cuba and announced that we were going to begin planning his return. She worked her side of the street organizing Wilson, Fortune 500 CEOs, and other power brokers in the Bay Area to promote our plan to take over the city of Oakland. (Of course, they didn’t know about the plan.) We worked our side of the street. We were organizing many of the local dealers and bringing them into the fold. Some we armed with top-flight weapons, while others were given their own turf that was sacrosanct. Not only did we work the local crowd, but we even expanded to LA and worked with some of the original Crips. Some of them had come up to work on Wilson’s campaign, and we hit it off and started working on an idea that Elaine and I had been kicking around for some time: reopening the LA chapter. The chapter was officially reopened in February 1977. I went down to LA for the project, taking about fifteen people from the base to assist. I met my family for dinner at a local restaurant. I saw them maybe every six months or so, when I traveled down to San Diego for a quick break. My mother and father had finally accepted my life choice. In fact, I believed they were rather proud of me. They could see that I was successful at doing something worthwhile with my life, even if it was dangerous. I had no way of knowing it, but this would be the last time I saw my father alive. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 146 | Loc. 2016-24  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:16 PM

“And you know we got a lot of work to do, getting things ready and stuff like that?” “Yeah, right on.” “Well, you know, there’s his case and that dope-fiend bitch that’s testifying against him.” Texas remained silent for a while, looking down at the dirt, kicking pebbles around, before he asked, “Fly, do we have a mission?” “Not quite, but it’s something like that.” I stood up and walked a few paces away, thinking about how I should put this to him. I turned to face him and said, “Texas, we don’t have orders, but what we do have is the ‘right to initiative.’ ” This term was derived from our reading and interpretation of Wretched of the Earth, by Frantz Fanon. He states that it is the oppressed people’s right to believe that they should kill their oppressor in order to obtain their freedom. We just modified it somewhat to mean anyone who’s in our way, like the woman who meant to testify against Huey. The first part of this phrase dealt with the right to do it. The second part, which relates to the initiative, just meant that we would do the operation and once it was successful, we would report it to the central committee. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 151 | Loc. 2083-2100  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:37 PM

The planning for Huey’s return had hit a feverish pitch by the day of his arrival. He had already left Cuba and landed in Canada. The authorities there flipped and placed him in custody. He was released, though—with the help of a Canadian member of parliament—and was scheduled to arrive at San Francisco International Airport on the evening of July 3. The logistics of putting this together was a unique experience. We had to transport approximately 150 to 200 adult Panthers and half that many kids to the international arrivals area at the airport and get them all back to Oakland after the event. We negotiated with the Oakland Police Department to allow us to drive Huey from the airport in Bethune’s Town Car and deliver him to the police once we arrived in Oakland. Bethune and Elaine had flown to Canada to make the flight back home with Huey and his wife, Gwen. I rode to the airport with Big Bob. We had every little detail of the Servant’s homecoming worked out, all the way down to the music. Bob organized it so that when Huey got in the car, a tape of his favorite song—“I Believe,” by Johnnie Taylor—would be playing. When we got to the airport, there were thousands of people besides us to greet Huey: comrades, family, friends, the press, and the Oakland police. We had arranged with the OPD’s dignitary protection detail to park the Town Car in the front of the international arrivals door. Bob stayed with the car. It was my job to find the car and to direct Huey’s entourage to its location. One of the OPD officers said, “Forbes, when we walk out with Huey’s people, don’t forget about reminding Bob that you should follow our car to the Alameda County jail, after we cross the bay.” I didn’t recognize any of them, but they knew who I was. “Right on,” I said in reply, while flashing him a clenched fist, Panther Power. Cooperating with the OPD was blowing my mind. But for Huey, anything could be done. Huey was about five to ten minutes away from deplaning when I decided to build a human gauntlet with the comrades so that he could walk through the crowd unimpeded. By the time the gauntlet was finished, the plane was pulling up to the gate. The crowd started to get loud and press toward the designated gate. I moved with the brothers to be closer to the Servant, as did the OPD detail. This was the closest we had ever been to the police, and they were really checking us out. It was one of those rare occasions when that tension between us was gone. We were cooperating for a good cause. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 152 | Loc. 2100-2114  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:39 PM

The door burst open. Elaine and Bethune emerged, followed by the Servant and Gwen. I felt like a witness to a last-second shot in an NBA championship game that wins the series or something like that, when someone does something that is unexpected and it works. It was a moment of pure joy that comes with goose bumps and watery eyes. I was close to the kind of tears that you might shed when someone makes an emotional speech that touches every major and minor point you believe in. I was truly psyched, but I did snap out of my trance. I had to move; I could not stand around teary-eyed. The police clearly didn’t want Huey to go through the gauntlet. The head of their detail said we should go through a special door when it was time to leave. That was cool with me. Huey got on top of the baggage counter, and the throngs of people began cheering and waving as he bent down to shake hands and dap with familiar well-wishers. It was then that we made eye contact. He gave me the Buddha Samurai nod, and I nodded back. I jumped up onto the counter and we embraced. I then got down to greet and hug Gwen. “Fly, where’s the car?” Bethune asked. “It’s this way,” I said, pointing in the direction of the OPD special door. As I started to steer them in that direction, Bethune grabbed my arm and asked who were those white men following us. “They’re the police, man. We’ve been kicking it with them all evening,” I replied with a touch of sarcasm. “Oh, okay, that’s right, we have to take the Servant to the jail,” he said. “Right,” I said. Before we could leave, the Servant jumped back onto the baggage counter and held up his hands, gesturing for people to be quiet. I didn’t hear most of what he said, but I did hear him say, “Comrades, we are declaring war on the drug dealers, and we will rid Oakland of this new menace.” 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 153 | Loc. 2114-32  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:40 PM

I was stunned, to say the least. We never made policy statements in public like that, not without careful planning. But he had done it now, and that meant we were committed, and I didn’t like it. Huey had changed! He never would have made such a statement in public before, especially with the police around. As we pushed through the door, I looked at Bethune and he looked at me. He was stunned too. Wa made our way to the car out front, and before I got in, the OPD sergeant said for us to follow them again. “Right on,” I said. Those guys were really nervous, and who could blame them? After all of these years of fuckin’ with us and us fuckin’ with them, I guess they couldn’t really believe that we would hear a word they said. The ride back to Oakland was a quiet one for me, except for the stereo blasting Johnnie Taylor. All I could think about was this declaration of war that Huey had tied us to. Huey spoke briefly to Bob, Elaine, and Bethune. He then turned around in the front seat and said, “Flores, how are you, comrade brother, how have you been doing?” “Fine, Servant, I’m doing fine.” Man, was I distracted. He had that look in his eyes, as if to say: “I am different, but how? You figure it out, Fly; you think you’re so goddamn smart.” You know, it was like he was laughing at you, from deep down inside. From the very first time I met Huey, in 1972, he was always kind of spooky. He was born with a veil over his face, and that’s supposed to connote some type of mystical power. That could have been some bullshit, but he was always pulling a rabbit out of his hat. He was doing it now, with this almost impossible return to America. He was finally back, safe and sound, just like I prayed he’d be. We went directly to the Alameda County jail and turned Huey over to the OPD. He was bailed out two weeks later. The Black Panther Party that Huey left in 1974 was not the same one he returned to in 1977. We had grown in some significant ways. We had gotten Lionel Wilson elected mayor of Oakland, thus completing one of the major objectives of our five-year plan to take over the city of Oakland. Elaine had worked effectively to establish links with the governor, judges, and many of the Fortune 500 companies in the Bay Area. And our centerpiece program, the Oakland Community School, was considered a serious innovation in alternative education and had reaped the public kudos to prove it. We had expanded our operations on all fronts. The people who were in leadership positions were relatively new to the Servant, even though most of them had been in the Party for some time. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 155 | Loc. 2140-53  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:43 PM

I was working on our housing projects, the Felix Mitchell stuff, and responding to whatever new things the Servant wanted done. One day, while I was working on the house on Tenth Street in North Berkeley, Bethune, Bob, and the Servant came by. Huey was reviewing our work on the houses and the school complex. He was still peripatetic and walked around the property greeting the brothers and inspecting the work. He didn’t stay long, and as we shook hands, he nodded in approval, asking me if everything was okay. “Of course,” I replied. We walked Huey to the car, all except Bethune, who told the Servant he was going to stay. It was not customary for us to leave the Servant’s company until we were dismissed. There was something afoot. Huey and Bob drove off. Bethune directed me to the front porch of the house and offered me a seat. “Fly,” Bethune began, “I have some bad news.” “What is it?” I asked with that confident sound you try and make when a surprise response on your part could mean your ass or your life. “Well, Joan Kelly has filed charges against the Pearl, Fly.” Joan Kelly was a member of the central committee who was in charge of the Party’s expansive nonprofit organizations, and Frances “Pearl” Moore was my live-in girlfriend and a rank-and-file member of the BPP. We had been together for three years. “What? What for?” I was shaken. Bethune stood up and walked onto the sidewalk approach to the porch and then turned on his heel. “She’s a thief, Fly; she stole some stuff from Joan Kelly’s purse. And you know she’s been suspected of this kind of thing before. The Servant says she’s got to be expelled.” I was numb, but I didn’t say a word. “Fly,” Bethune said, “are you okay?” 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 156 | Loc. 2153-68  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:44 PM

“What do you think?” I said as I got up to walk away. I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. Damn. Shit, this is fucked up, I said to myself. I couldn’t believe they would fuck with Baby at this juncture. It seemed as if they didn’t give a fuck about nothing. After all of these years of dedicated service, these niggers choose now to fuck with me by fucking with my woman. I knew how the shit worked around here, and that meant it wasn’t Joan who had come up with this scam. It was probably the nigga I was trying to save. Yeah, I was certain, because this was the Servant’s style. I should’ve known because I was usually in on the scheme, but not this time. And here I was planning to lop off this bitch’s head to save the Servant. Man, the shit could get thick around here. I was schooled by the movement to subordinate my personal relationships and my feelings for the business of the fold. This was hard because I loved this woman. I must set an example, I said to myself. So at her board hearing, at which I did not preside because of a conflict of interest, I showed my support for the executive decision. I did not try to defend her. I did not say one word. Bethune read the charges and she started to cry, glancing in my direction. I averted my eyes because it was hard not to help, seeing those big beautiful brown eyes filled with tears. I would not help because this could be a test, knowing how many games Huey could play with a person. I believed the Party came before my personal life, and now was my time to practice what I preached. After reading the charges, Bethune told Frances, “You have been officially expelled from the Black Panther Party with no appeal possible. You must go to your apartment and remove all of your personal belongings.” And then he added, “Oh yeah, don’t call Flores, because as you can see, he is in agreement with this move.” Bethune then nodded in my direction. I got up, took Frances by the hand, and left. I drove her to our place to collect her things. I did not say one word to her in the elevator, car, or even as she walked out of the door and out of my life. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 163 | Loc. 2260-79  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:53 PM

THE NEXT DAY WAS October 21, 1977. I had secured the intelligence data needed for the operation to get rid of the witness against Huey about two days before the last central committee meeting at Huey’s house. The preliminary hearing was scheduled for this Monday; we would strike on that Sunday morning, just as the target was rolling over. So on this day, as I woke, I contemplated doing my disappearing act for at least the two days it would take to set up and execute the plan. I looked at the phone and thought about calling Texas, but instead I got up and paced around my living room, trying to get at what was bothering me. Maybe the Servant wasn’t worth this effort. But I was committed and wouldn’t turn back now, even if he wasn’t worth it. I went back into my bedroom and took the phone off the dresser and into the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I needed another safety net. I figured that the only brothers in the fold outside of Texas whom I could trust were the brothers in the cadre from LA. I decided to call Pookie and Stubbs. They were both down with the Buddha Samurai, and besides, I knew they would kill grass if I told them to. The phone rang about four or five times before Pookie answered. I could tell he was just waking up; it was about 7:00 A.M. “Right on, this is Pookie.” “Pookie, it’s me, man.” I waited and hoped he recognized my voice. “Yeah, right on, Fly.” Good, I thought. “Listen, Pook, I need you to be ready for a phone call. When you get it, listen carefully to the person on the other end. It probably won’t be me, so don’t trip on that, okay?” “Okay, right on.” “It will probably be within the next few days.” “Right on.” “When you get the call, go and get Stubbs and tell him everything that I’m telling you now, in addition to the information from the phone call that you might receive.” “Right on.” “And do everything they tell you to do.” “Right on.” “Also, Pook, check this out. If you get the call and have to hook something up for me, you probably should keep going after you finish.” There was a pause on the other end, but I knew he was still there because I could hear his breathing. “Fly,” he said after a few seconds. “Yeah.” “I’m down with you to the end, my brother, or until the final day of liberation.” I just sat there on the phone and took in what he had just said. Man, I thought, it was kind of overwhelming to hear someone say that to you. I guess the thing that really rocked me is that he was deadly serious about who and what we were. Just like I was. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 164 | Loc. 2279-2303  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:54 PM

“Right on, Pook, I knew I could count on you. And there’s just one more thing to remember about the call.” “What’s that, Fly?” “That we will always be brothers in life and brothers in death.” I almost thought I was going to cry when I said that. Damn, I thought. I had to say that. What else could I say? Something stupid, like “Thank you, my brother, for backing me in the blind.” “Right on, Fly, I got it,” he said and hung up. I hung up and just sat on the edge of the bathtub. I got up and headed for the picture that hung over the couch in my living room. I knelt on the couch and took the frame off its hook. I sat on the couch and carefully slid the armory list out of the back of the frame. Then I picked up the phone to call Texas. “Right on, this is Naomi.” “Hey, Nai Nai, this is Flores.” “Hi, Fly, how are you doing?” “I’m fine, baby. Is the Twister there?” “Yeah, hold on.” “What’s up, Fly?” I paused, contemplating again how to say this. “T, ah, leave your wallet at home, I’m coming by to pick you up in about an hour.” “Right on, Fly,” he said, and he hung up. I hopped off the couch and walked back into my bedroom with the list. As I was looking for something to wear and intermittently checking the list for the best locations for the TE and a main staging area, my mind began to drift, and I wondered about the lack of fear. I was not bothered by the fact that I was on my way to assassinating someone. I wondered why then, and now. I think that most Black Panther Party members—especially those comrades who had been in the Party for longer than five years—were in some kind of a “confidence zone.” We thought we could do almost anything to achieve an objective—a revolutionary objective. This was the result of years of ideological and philosophical conditioning. We comrades were constantly bombarded with slick and catchy phrases that expounded on the greatness of sacrificing all for the cause, struggle, revolution, or whatever term was in vogue. We were taught that you should subordinate your personal life and all else for the goals spelled out in the Ten Point Platform and Program of the Black Panther Party. What we were about to do, though, had nothing to do with the Ten Point Platform and Program. In the final analysis, what I really believed was that Huey P. Newton was my “prince.” I would kill or die for him at the drop of a hat. The brothers in the fold had pledged an allegiance to me in much the same way. We were down for this or that, and the only thing that mattered was that it worked. When we were attacked, we counterattacked the best we could. If we needed to change our rhetoric in order to fool the opposition, we did so. If we needed to change the way we dressed in order to deceive the local police and other law enforcement agencies, we did so. We had announced that we were laying down our guns in order to cut back on police attacks and murders, though we did not mean it. It was just another urban guerrilla adaptation. We made political statements for military reasons that would buy us time until we regrouped for another push against the system and society. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 166 | Loc. 2303-23  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:56 PM

I got to Texas’s pad, which was in the lower part of East Oakland, about five minutes later than I had expected. We started to plan our agenda for the next forty-eight hours. I had already selected several locations where we could pick up the TE that we would need for the job. And I had picked out a staging area at one of our places in North Oakland. It was near the freeway and about a twenty-minute drive from Richmond, the city where the witness lived. As we drove around, I explained to Texas about the location and that there was a slight possibility that the police might be there. I had this suspicion because the intelligence for this operation came from secondary sources and not our own due diligence. Upon hearing this, Texas just said in his own low-key style, “Fuck the police,” and we pushed on. I really liked Texas; he was a very talented brother who didn’t get much credit, especially from the women in leadership positions. He was originally from Beaumont, Texas, hence the nickname, but had grown up in Detroit, which was where he first joined the Party. Louis Talbert Johnson was, to me, the prototypical Black Panther Party street operative. He was about six-two and weighed between 180 to 200 pounds. He was smart, and some considered him slick. He knew his weapons and could shoot equally well with a handgun or automatic rifle, but he preferred a riot shotgun to any of them. He was good with his hands and a buck knife and was probably one of the best “wheel men” in the Party. He was a lover of jazz, especially fusion, and specifically Weather Report. He was also a marijuana connoisseur of the highest order. But what made him stand out the most, besides the large Apple Jack hat he used to wear, was his dedication to duty and the Party and his fearless, almost swashbuckling, style on a military operation. He always wanted to be the first person through the door. He was my ace boon coon—always there—making the right moves and having a good time doing it. We had a deadly serious trust in each other, you know. Deep down inside of me, I even wished, because I felt this impending doom, that I had gone to Bethune and said the Party should support this thing and make it one of those deep underground operations. But in order to do that, we would need the Servant’s nod, and I didn’t think we would get that. So there we were, making our move, as wrong as two left shoes. Anyway, Texas was my main man, and we were going down for the cause together. We were going down for our prince and not the people or the Party or some other abstract notion of liberation. Yes, we were idealists and too aggressive for some people, but we were not stupid enough to think that what we were doing was tied to the Ten Point Platform and Program or any of our 1960s rhetoric. We believed we had “the right to initiative,” to take matters into our own hands. If things did not work out, we were also willing to suffer the consequences. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 167 | Loc. 2323-34  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 10:57 PM

We swooped into Richmond just to take a peek at the spot and locate a secondary staging area. We looked long and hard and didn’t see any police. “Looks good,” I said to Texas. “Yeah, looks good, Fly,” he replied. We then set off for Oakland, to choose a team, pick up the TE, recon the site, set up our staging area, plan a little more, make our move, and go home. We decided that we needed about four more people to fill out the team. One more brother to be with us on the initial assault, another brother to drive and drop us off, and a man and a woman to pose as a couple on a one-night stand to hold down the secondary staging area. We stopped at a phone booth in Berkeley to call central headquarters. Henry “Mitch” Mitchell, who was the officer of the day, told me that Bethune and Bob had called, looking for me. I told Mitch, who had been on the housing rehab crew, to say he hadn’t heard from me and not to sweat telling a lie. Everything was cool with him, he said. I asked him about the location of Elmo Black, Randell Jefferson, Stephanie Hopson, and Joe Jackson. They were the additional people we had selected to fill out our crew. I told him to contact each of them and have them meet me at the staging area in North Oakland. I further instructed him to say that this was extremely important and that they should not speak to anyone about this, which included their coordinators, Bethune and Bob. We were to meet in North Oakland at 11:00 P.M. The time now was 8:00 or 9:00 P.M. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
- Highlight on Page 168 | Loc. 2334-90  | Added on Sunday, October 05, 2014, 11:00 PM

Texas and I made two stops in Berkeley and grabbed an M16 automatic rifle and put it together and taped two 30-round banana clips full of .223-caliber ammo together. We then picked up two Riot 20 Standard, 12-gauge pump shotguns with 00 buck rounds for the tubular magazine; three dark jumpsuits; three pairs of leather gloves; and three ski masks. We would use the M16 as a backup for the police if they should show up or for anybody who could outgun the Riot 20s. The reason we used shotguns as the primary assault weapon was because they left no land or groove tracing that could be detected by a ballistics test. And the jumpsuits, ski masks, and gloves were used to prevent blood from splattering on our clothes, faces, and hands. The gloves were also used to hold down the prints we might leave behind and to shield our hands from the blast residue emitted by firing a weapon. But if anything at all went wrong, we had the option of leaving everything behind, because we knew that nothing could be traced back to us, unless it was one of our bodies. And as another precaution, everyone on the operation was instructed not to carry any ID. It would take the police several hours to trace you with only your prints. We packed the trunk of the car and drove to the staging area in North Oakland to drop off the stuff. We then left to recon the spot. There were no changes. We drove around to time and measure the distance between the spot and the hotel we would use as a secondary staging area. We also looked for a good location to park the second car, in which we would leave the area after the operation was over. We returned to our primary staging area at about 10:30 P.M., and everyone was assembled. I spoke separately with everyone. I instructed Elmo Black to take Joe and Stephanie to the hotel staging area, where we would rest and lay low after the operation so that we would not have to drive back to Oakland until the next day. We went over everything again and again until 1:00 A.M. We set an alarm clock for 2:30 A.M. and then settled down to take a short nap. Texas and Randell were up and dressed in their gear, strapped down, and ready to go when the alarm went off at 2:30. I was the only one still asleep. We left North Oakland in two cars. When we arrived at our location in Richmond, I instructed Randell, who was driving the second car, to park on the next block over and leave the keys in that car. He then hopped into our car, and we drove around for another hour or so to get familiar with the street movement. It was time. Elmo dropped us off in front of the designated house at around 4:00 and then left to return to Oakland, as instructed. We walked up the driveway and knelt down in the dark below a window facing the street. I looked toward the front of the house just to see what I could see. Nothing. No movement, no sign of anyone. We pulled down our ski masks, and in a duck-walking crouch, we moved around to the designated door. This was a duplex with two doors facing the sidewalk with a backdrop or open area the size of a racquetball court. We went to the second door and stood up. I was on the left and Texas was on the right while Randell was kneeling on the other side of the sidewalk facing the front door. I motioned to Randell to rip the screen door off. Texas would reel around and kick the door in. I gave the signal and everybody moved. With that done, I started in the door, closely followed by Texas. Randell remained outside to cover us. I saw two muzzle flashes and heard two sharp reports as I entered the door. I thought they had come from within. But I wasn’t sure. They were followed by several sharp and rapid reports from outside. I began to raise my weapon to fire, but found that my entire right side was not working, it was numb. I couldn’t feel a goddamn thing on my right side. I had been shot. A copper-jacketed .223-caliber bullet had banked off the right side of my shotgun stock and slid underneath the back of my glove and entered the crease of my wrist, just below the heel of my hand. Tumbling and slashing, it had exited out the top of my knuckle, ripping through my leather glove and leaving my gun hand useless but still wrapped around the stock. Damn, I thought. I cradled my weapon as more shots rang out from outside. I tried to retreat back through the door, but Texas, who seemed to be moving in slow motion, blocked my path. He was slumping near the entrance. I said, “Texas, are you okay?” (Even that came out in slow motion.) There was no response. Randell turned and was facing the backdrop with his weapon held from a squatting position. Texas continued to fall in slow motion. Randell turned to see Texas falling and jumped toward him, trying to break his fall. He then struggled to pull Texas away from the door. Texas had been hit with a .223-caliber bullet in the back of the neck. It exited through his throat. I reeled outside, dropping my weapon and looking down at my right side. I felt my right arm with my left hand. Nothing. I raised my right hand with the help of my left hand. I couldn’t see my fingers. Damn. I had been shot in the hand and I couldn’t see my fingers anymore. Damn. I ripped at the glove. My hand started to burn and sting. I pulled the glove off, flinging it to the ground. “Help me with Texas, Fly! He’s hurt bad!” Randell shouted. I grabbed T’s left side as Randell grabbed his right. We attempted to drag him toward the street, but as we got to the driveway, I could see that he was gone. He felt like he weighed a thousand pounds. “He’s dead, man, we gotta leave him,” I said. “No,” said Randell, “we gotta take him with us.” He continued trying to drag Texas, who was dead on his feet. I could not hold him up anymore, so I let go. The weight of T’s body was too much for Randell alone, and he let go too. “Come on, Randell, let’s go,” I said sternly. We ran up the street toward the curb, peeling off our outerwear as we went. We had been trained long ago that if an operation gets botched, you must leave everything behind—guns, jumpsuits, and dead comrades. We made a left turn and headed for the next block, where we had parked the other car. As we got to the corner, I could see two police cars nearing the intersection from our right. We crossed the street and went to the car. I turned, while standing on the driver’s side of the car, and faced the oncoming police car. The lights were flashing, but there was no siren. The police were about twenty feet away when they made a sharp left turn and headed down the street we had just left. Randell and I stood still there in the early-morning darkness. I popped the lock with my left hand and got into the car. Randell jumped in on the passenger side. We drove off. We swooped back to the hotel and picked up the couple at the secondary staging area; we wouldn’t need it now. After leaving the hotel, we drove down the street that intersected the street where we left Texas’s body. There were police cars everywhere, but as I had guessed, there were no roadblocks yet. So we just drove by the police and headed back to the main staging area in North Oakland. As I drove away from the scene, I looked down at my bloody nub of a hand. Damn, I thought, I have to get medical treatment. We were quiet in the car until Randell nervously said, “Fly, do you want me to drive?” I didn’t answer. I just drove on, thinking, I have to get away. We have to get away. The cold reality of the situation set in and I felt a shiver throughout my body. Cold-blooded fear was riding me now. As I maneuvered the car back toward North Oakland, I kept repeating these short phrases to myself as if I were counting sheep, trying to go to sleep and forget about everything that had just happened. It didn’t work. What will I do now? What will I do? What will I do? I will get away. That’s what I will do. I will get away. But regardless of what I said to psych myself up, I knew that from this moment on, my life as I had 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
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known it was over. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
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WHEN YOU EXPERIENCE a near-death occurrence or someone close to you gets popped and you’re there, it forces you to focus in on where you have been in your life. Because, baby, that moment could be the last thing you remember. It could be the last taste of life that you get. We made it back to Oakland from Richmond without any further incident. Jefferson helped me out of the car and into the house. I paid no attention to whether I was bleeding to death or not, I just wanted to lie down and go to sleep, hoping that when I woke up, this would all be a dream. It was hard to fathom that Texas was dead and still lying out there in the street being examined by the police, poking him, taking pictures of him, and then finally zipping him up in a big green bag. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
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When Bert returned to take Nelson and me to the hospital, things were starting to hit the fan. First of all, the Alameda County district attorney, Tom Orloff, announced in the courtroom that there had been an attempt on the star witness in Richmond this morning and that the operation was botched and the body of Louis Talbert Johnson—Texas—had been found in the driveway. We had worked out a story for the ER doctor that involved my hand, a jackhammer accident, and getting high on the job. Nelson concurred that this made sense, given the condition my hand was in. Bert drove Nelson and me to the ER at Piedmont Hospital on Pill Hill. He dropped us off and sped away. Little did I know that I would see Bert very soon, but the circumstances would be very tense and in a “get out of town” style. Nelson and I moved through the hospital with ease. I registered at the ER desk and was ushered immediately, with Nelson at my side, into an ER room with a young white male doctor and about five or six other attendants standing nearby. Without asking any questions, the doctor started to remove my dressing. Halfway through, he asked, as the other doctor had asked, who had done this work. I said, “It was him,” motioning toward Nelson. “Great work,” the doctor said. “Now, what happened?” “I was working on a construction project in Petaluma when my jackhammer got away from me and stuck me in the top of my right hand.” I stopped talking and glanced at Nelson for his eye-contact feedback. But before we could register, the doctor said, “That can’t be the case.” “What?” I said. “That can’t be the case,” he repeated. First pointing to the entry wound on my wrist, he said, “This is where it came in—and this is where it left.” I said, “Where what came in?” “The bullet,” he said. “This looks like the wound the police said we should be on the lookout for and that we must notify them.” I moved away from the doctor, Nelson at my side, and backed toward the door. The doctor said, “Look, if you don’t get treatment, you can die; besides, I must tell the police about all gunshot wounds I treat.” Yeah, right! Nelson and I turned and started running out of the ER section of the hospital and into the parking lot. We didn’t look back, but the doctor and his attendants were at the exit, watching us leave the scene. We broke through the parking lot, dodging cars and finally crossing the street and tumbling down an embankment that took us out of their sights. We stopped running and began to walk quickly when we heard the police sirens heading toward the hospital. I knew this area extremely well, so I decided the closest place to hide and make a call was our house on Santa Rosa; it was currently used as dormitory for the kids. We slipped into Santa Rosa through a window that was always open, and when I saw the oven mitt on the counter, my mind began to free-associate and it finally hit me. Damn, I said to myself, banging my left hand on the kitchen counter. I forgot that I left my motherfucking glove at the scene. 
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Will You Die with Me?: My Life and the Black Panther Party (Flores Alexander Forbes)
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Stubbs took us north from Las Vegas and headed toward Salt Lake City. This part of the trip was somewhat pleasant because I was getting away and that made me feel better. It seemed the farther we got away from Oakland, the better I was able to mentally negotiate the pain shooting through my hand as it started to come alive again. When we reached Salt Lake City, it was dark, and this was good in my estimation because not many brothers were in this part of the country. We stopped for fuel and to get some food. I could not eat or sleep. Pookie took over from here, and after checking the map, he swung us east in the dir

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