Portrait of a black female cop in flux. Caught in the hot, sweaty grip of a dimension between apathy and anarchy, she has taken a stand as a thinking human being in a place where prejudices can kill and a closed mind can destroy. Where her whiskied searches on long, silent nights . . . for faith., strength, and truth . . . drag her through the sewers of the less positive pursuits of man: human slaughter, torture, and misery. Dispensing justice is her only solace. Enter the world of Fontella Jones at your own risk.
Didja get down this far? Didja read that shit up top? Sounds like you’re enterin’ the Twilight Zone doesn’t it? It’s a zone all right. A zone they ain’t ever gonna show on TV or in the movies. It shouldn’t even be in books. Where does this Justeen bitch get off writin’ about me anyway? My name’s Fontella Jones, Telly for short. I’m a cop, a detective, a damned good detective in East St. Lawrence: a dying city entirely subsidized by strip clubs and a gambling boat that attracts the whites from across the Big River in Saint Lawrence. I’ve been accused of black racism and white racism; of being politically and socially correct and incorrect, Before you start formin’ any opinions, you better learn a little bit about me. You’d better know who I am and what makes me tick…and try not to make me go over this shit again . . . not if you wanna hang and be part of my show. Yeah, I’m all those things at times − and more. You don’t have to like it; you don’t have to understand it, but you do have to accept it. There’s no shades of gray in my world; it’s black and white. There’s those who hurt people…and those who don’t. I carry a pair of lightweight, alloy Warthog 45s and I love to hear ‘em squeal. I catch you hurtin’ people, you’re gonna hear ‘em too. Things will get ugly real fast…and that’s when I’m NOT drinking! You don’t wanna catch me when I been drinking.