Mistaken identity (Based On A True Story)

 

“So what are you doing this weekend?”

“Aw, man, I’m going home to see my fam. It’s been a minute since I've been that way, and my moms keep asking me when I’m coming to see her. So that’s where I’m spending my weekend.”

“Oh, that’s what’s up. I’ll see you later then.”

Memphis, Tennessee, was home to Kyle.

He had a pretty nice life. He grew up in Cordova and got accepted into Georgia Tech on a full scholarship. Kyle wanted to be a biochemist. As he packed his belongings into his 2018 Mercedes-Benz 600, he drove off campus and hit the highway. A few hours later, the Memphis skyline came into view.

The city hasn’t changed much at all, he thought.

Kyle didn’t tell his mom he was coming home for the weekend. He wanted to surprise her.

When he pulled into the driveway, his mother was sitting on the porch. Her eyes widened as he stepped out of the car.

“Son!” she shouted, rushing toward him.

“Hi, Mom,” Kyle said, smiling as she hugged and kissed him.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, since you’re here, I need you to go to the store and pick up a few things so I can cook you something to eat.”

“Okay, cool. What do you want me to get?”

“It doesn’t matter, baby—whatever you want Mama to cook for you.”

“Alright, cool.”

Kyle hopped back into his car and headed to the store.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he noticed police officers had a dude handcuffed, face down on the ground. Apparently, the guy had been caught stealing. The crazy thing was how he had stuffed all the merchandise into the pink skinny jeans he was wearing. A crowd had gathered, phones out, recording everything.

“Lil’ draws-ass!” one spectator yelled.

“That man got the whole aisle four in his pants, don’t he?” another one said.

Kyle shook his head and walked into the store.

Shit, I want some cheeseburgers, he thought.

He grabbed a pack of hamburger meat, tomatoes, hamburger buns, cheese, and some Miracle Whip.

“Yo, Kyle—that you?”

Kyle turned around. It was his best friend, Lil J.

“What’s up, mane?”

“What’s good, my nigga?” Lil J said, pulling him into a handshake and a hug. “Man, it’s good to see you. You look good. How have you been?”

“Shit, I’m just getting out of jail. Same shit, different toilet paper,” Kyle said.

“Aye, you know me, baby—I gots to get it.”

Kyle met Lil J years ago when he used to visit his aunt in the South Memphis projects. They’d been best friends ever since.

“Man, how long you been in town?” Lil J asked.

“The whole weekend.”

“Oh, shit. The turn-up is about to be lit. I know you're hitting the club tonight.”

“You know it.”

“Aye, what you about to do now?”

“Head back to my mom’s crib so she can cook this food.”

“Alright then, my nigga. I’ll catch you at the club later tonight.”

Kyle made his way to the checkout, paid for his items, and exited the store. Everything was back to normal by the time he got to the parking lot.

He got back in his car and headed to his mother’s house—unaware that this weekend home was about to change everything. By the time Kyle made it back to his mother’s house, he noticed several cars parked in the driveway. That could only mean one thing—his mom had called the family.

“Nephew!” his uncle James yelled as soon as Kyle stepped through the door.

“Uncle James, what’s going on?”

“Man, this arthritis is kicking my ass and messing with my back,” James said, rubbing his side. “But other than that, I’m good. How is college life treating you? You get with any of them, pretty little girls down there?”

“There are a few I’m scoping,” Kyle said, laughing.

“Oh boy,” another voice chimed in. “We know you ain’t doing nothing. You're still a virgin.”

“Hell, James!” Kyle’s mom snapped. “What did I tell you? Leave that boy alone. Get over there and sit down! The burgers will be ready in a minute, baby.”

“Okay, Ma.”

Kyle pulled out his phone and scrolled through social media. He made a quick Facebook post letting everybody know he was in town for the weekend.

Thirty minutes later, the burgers were ready. Kyle tore through his plate in seconds. When he was done, he headed to his old bedroom and jumped in the shower.

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out, brushed his teeth, and rubbed his skin down with baby oil. He reached into his bag and pulled out a Polo outfit with the matching socks and shoes, finished it off with a Gucci belt, then sprayed on some Polo cologne. Grabbing his keys, phone, and charger, he headed out the door.

When he cranked up the car, the gas light blinked on.

“Damn,” he muttered, pulling toward the gas station.

As Kyle pulled in, chaos was already in progress. A dark-skinned woman with a blonde weave and booty shorts was yelling at the top of her lungs.

“I know you fucked that bitch, Jamal!”

“Mane, I don’t even know that bitch,” the man yelled back from a burgundy Crown Vic with a pink top and pink interior.

“Get in the car—you tripping.”

“Fuck you, nigga! I ain’t going nowhere!” she screamed.

Kyle shook his head and walked into the store. He handed the clerk a twenty-dollar bill. “Let me get twenty on pump two.”

The clerk glanced outside at the woman still acting belligerent and sighed. “They don’t pay me enough for this shit.”

He grabbed the intercom. “Look, ma’am, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave the store.”

She turned toward the window and yelled, “Fuck you! Look here, you beauty-supply-store-wig-wearing bitch! Let’s see if you still tough when the laws get here.”

“Mane, get your ass in the car!” her boyfriend yelled.

She finally jumped in, and the Crown Vic peeled off.

Kyle pumped his gas, got back in the car, and pulled off. “Man, that shit was crazy,” he said to himself.

He rode around the city for a while until his phone buzzed.

Lil J: Pull up. Where are you at?

Kyle: At the club.

Lil J: Naw, I’m posted in the South on the court.

Kyle pulled up to the court. “What’s going on, mane?”

“Shit, I can’t call it.”

As Kyle looked across the court, his eyes locked on a familiar face—the same woman from the gas station.

“Yo,” Kyle said quietly, “ain’t that the chick that was wildin’ at the gas station earlier?”

Lil J followed his gaze. “Who, Jackie?”

“Yeah. She was screaming at some dude when I pulled up, then got into it with the clerk.”

Lil J laughed. “Oh yeah.”

Right then, Jackie and another girl started walking over toward Kyle and Lil J. “What’s up?” Lil J said.

“What’s up?” the female replied. “What you got going?”

“Not shit. What y’all on?”

“Mane, not shit—just kickin’ it.” Lil J nodded toward Kyle. “Aye, this is my homeboy Kyle. Kyle, this Dreka. You already know Jackie.”

Jackie smirked. “From where I know him.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Surprisingly well. I saw you at the store earlier—with your boyfriend.”

“Oh, you're the dude that was pumping gas?” Jackie asked.

“Yeah, that was me.”

“That's your Benz?”

“Yep.”

“Well, alright then,” Jackie laughed. “Y’all going to the club tonight?”

“Yeah,” Dreka said.

“You know it,” Lil J replied. “My boy came home for the weekend. Ain’t seen him in forever. We gotta get it in—the turn-up finna be lit.”

“You from Memphis?” Dreka asked Kyle.

“Yeah, but I've been in college and stuff.”

“Oh, okay,” she said.

“Yeah, my boy book-smart,” Lil J added.

Jackie looked Kyle up and down, smiling proudly. “Look at you. Hell yeah—my boy gon’ be doing big things.”

“You know you can do big things too,” Kyle said.

“Naw, mane,” Lil J replied. “That school shit ain’t for me. You know…the streets are what I’m good at.”

Before they knew it, hours had passed, and everyone was starting to leave the court. Kyle and Lil J rode around for a while, then eventually made their way to the club.

When Kyle pulled into the parking lot, Lil J shook his head. “Damn, it’s a lot of folks in this junt.”

“I know,” Kyle said as they stepped out.

At the door, the bouncer said, “Twenty each.” They paid and walked inside.

Kyle was immediately hit with the smell of marijuana. “Damn, somebody is blowing that cookie in here.”

As they stood on the dance floor, the DJ’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“Moneybagg Yo just entered the building!”

The crowd rushed the stage as Moneybagg Yo came out. The DJ handed him the mic, and he performed two songs while the crowd rapped every word. When he finished, he disappeared into VIP.

“I see y’all made it,” a voice said.

Kyle turned around—it was Dreka and Jackie.

“Lil J, buy me a drink,” Jackie said.

“Shit, I should be asking you the same thing,” Lil J laughed.

“Boy, you niggas know y’all stingy,” Dreka said.

Yo Gotti’s Juice blasted through the speakers.

“Ayeeee!” Dreka screamed. “That’s my shit, bitch!”

She started dancing. Jackie backed it up on Kyle.

“Fuck it up, sis!” Dreka yelled.

Out of nowhere, a hand grabbed Jackie by the hair.

“Bitch, what the fuck is wrong with you?” a man yelled. “You out here dancing on niggas and shit?”

Jackie struggled. “Let me go! You ain’t my daddy!”

Kyle’s stomach dropped. He recognized the man—it was the dude from the store.

The man turned toward Kyle, eyes full of rage. “Nigga, you fucking with my bitch?”

“She was dancing on me,” Kyle said.

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Lil J started to say something—

BANG.

Shots rang out from the other side of the club. Screams filled the air as people stampeded for the exits. Someone had pulled a gun after an argument and opened fire.

Kyle and Lil J were separated in the chaos.

Kyle ran.

He made it outside and rushed to his car. As he slid the key into the door, a voice cut through the noise.

“Aye, motherfucker—you thought it was over?”

Kyle turned.

A gun was pointed at him from the window of an SUV.

Shots fired.

One bullet hit Kyle in the chest. Two more struck his head.

He dropped instantly.

The SUV sped off into the night.

Kyle never made it back to Georgia Tech.

He never became a biochemist.

And the city he called home would remember his death for the wrong reason—

a case of mistaken identity.

Epilogue — Lil J

The cell is quiet except for the hum of the lights.

Lil J sits on the edge of the bunk, elbows on his knees, a creased photo shaking between his fingers. It’s him and Kyle on a summer afternoon—sweat, smiles, no idea how close the end was.

Life.

That’s what the judge said. One word. Heavy as concrete.

Lil J presses the photo flat and stares at Kyle’s face. Clean. Certain. Like the world still made sense.

“They say time is supposed to make it easier,” he whispers. “They are lying.”

He remembers the club lights. The sound of shots. The way Kyle never even had time to be scared.

Mistaken identity.

That’s what the news called it. Like it was an accident. Like somebody just mixed up names.

Lil J closes his eyes and sees it all again—finding out who did it, tracking him down, pulling the trigger with hands that didn’t shake.

He doesn’t regret it.

He lifts the photo closer.

“You're my only friend,” he says softly. “I couldn’t just let that nigga kill you and not do nothing.”

His throat tightens.

“You never judged me for none of my fuck-ups. Not once.”

A guard walks past. Keys jingle. Time moves.

Lil J slides the photo back into his pocket and lies down, staring at the ceiling.

“Rest in peace, homie,” he murmurs.

Somewhere beyond the bars, Memphis keeps breathing. Cars pass. Music plays. Mothers wait on porches.

And in a concrete box meant to hold a body forever, a man lives with the cost of love, loyalty, and a life taken over a mistake.

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