by Randy Alcorn
Clarence drove out east of Gresham, down a deserted back road leading into a thick grove of trees. He took out the HK53 he’d taken from Ollie’s trunk. He inserted into the standard magazine twenty-five .223 rounds, then aimed toward a prominent marking on a tree and pulled the trigger.
The weapon fired, but only once. The shell casing didn’t eject. He removed the casing manually and got set to practice firing again.
At 10:50 A.M. Friday, Clarence walked into Councilman Norcoast’s office with a cake box in his left hand and a long black leather bag slung over his right shoulder. He walked in with six other men, four black and two white. A couple of them Sheila recognized. She noticed none of them seemed in a party mood.
“Hello, Mr. Abernathy. Gentlemen.” She waited for introductions, but Clarence didn’t oblige.
“I’ve kept the secret,” Sheila said. “I have to take off in just a few minutes myself. You’ll never believe it,” she said to Clarence. “A photographer from the Tribune called me this morning and she wants to take some pictures of me, for a possible feature of a Portland working woman. Can you imagine that? She asked me to meet her at Pioneer Square at eleven-fifteen. So I’ll need to leave you gentlemen here. Mr. Gray’s in his office. He and the councilman are on the same conference call. As soon as you see the light go off on line two,” she pointed to the phone, “you can just knock on Mr. Norcoast’s door. I told him I’d be leaving just before eleven, and he’s expecting you.”
Sheila turned on the answering machine, got together a few things, and headed out the door. The six other men sat quietly while Clarence positioned himself by the desk, waiting for the light to go off.
As soon as Norcoast put down his phone, the men walked in his office door. Clarence stood behind them, and under the distraction of their movement, he took two objects out of the cake box and affixed them to the wall.
“Gentlemen.” Reg Norcoast appeared slightly flustered. “What a pleasant surprise. I knew I had an appointment with Clarence, but…Mr. Fletcher, hello, good to see you.” Norcoast extended his hand to Leesa’s father. He didn’t reciprocate.
“What’s all this about, Clarence?” Norcoast asked.
“I was just admiring some of your pictures, Councilman.” Clarence pointed to a couple of pictures on the wall. Norcoast walked a few feet closer and stared, red faced.
“Which one are you looking at?” Clarence asked. “The picture of you and me with that tie of yours? Or the one right next to it? The one with your arm around Leesa Fletcher?”
“No. No.” Norcoast looked at Leesa’s father. “That’s not true. I mean…where did that photo come from?”
Clarence pointed now to the photo of himself standing next to Norcoast. The councilman remembered how that photo had reappeared before. He remembered taking it out of the frame and burning it. This was the same picture, but…what was that shadow on his forehead?
“Nice tie, Reg,” Clarence said. “Neat little symbols there. Say, Harley isn’t that the African symbol of masculinity?” His brother walked closer.
“Yes, it is,” Harley said in the murky tone of a hanging judge.
“And what’s this tattoo on the councilman’s forehead?”
“That’s the African symbol for justice,” Harley said.
“Well, Norcoast,” Clarence said. “That’s why we’re all here this morning. We’ve come to get justice.”
Norcoast’s eyes shifted wildly around the room.
“You know Mr. Fletcher, Leesa’s father,” Clarence said, gesturing, “and I think you’ve met Leesa’s older brother Solly.” From the way he filled out his Georgetown letterman’s jacket, the boy had obviously pumped his share of iron. “And, of course, you know Pastor Cairo Clancy from Ebenezer and Jake Woods from the Trib. You remember my brother Harley here, the professor at Portland State? And you haven’t met Stu Miller, father of Gracie Miller. Name ring a bell? See, Leesa’s gone from this world, and so’s Gracie and Dani. So we’re here on their behalf.”
“Tell me what’s going on,” Norcoast said. “I don’t like your tone. What’s happening here?”
Harley glared at Norcoast. “It’s an African tradition that the male family members of female victims privately face the man responsible for the crime. The Qur’an says it is honorable to be the tool of justice.”
“Now wait a minute,” Norcoast said to Harley. “You’re still chairman of the black studies department at PSU, right? I helped fund that department. I’ve gone to bat for it several times. We’re on the same team. We’re—”
“We’re what? Brothers?” Harley spit on the floor. “That’s what I think of you, brother.”
“But you can’t just charge into my office and threaten me,” Norcoast said to him. “You’ll be fired. You’ll—”
“Nah, I’ve got tenure. Wouldn’t expect you to understand this justice stuff, Norcoast. It’s a black thing.”
Norcoast turned back to Clarence. “Have you gone crazy, Abernathy?”
“Well, maybe I have,” Clarence said. “But some of us here have lost faith in the justice system, with people like you using it for your own purposes. So before you go to court, we want to get in some old-fashioned country justice.”
“Woods,” Norcoast looked at Jake. “For crying out loud, talk some sense into him.”
Jake shrugged. “These men have some very serious charges against you. If they’re right, you’ve done terrible things to their families. Clarence is my friend, and he asked me to come here today and stand with him. I don’t know exactly all he’s got in mind, but I trust him.”
“Reverend Clancy,” Norcoast said, eyes pleading. “Tell them this isn’t the place for justice. We have laws and courts for that. Tell them!”
“I think justice belongs everywhere,” Clancy said. “I’m a Christian Bible preacher, not a Muslim, but it’s hard to argue with the Qur’an on this one. Or with African tradition. See, justice is part of every religion and culture. Eye for an eye; tooth for a tooth.”
“You can’t let them hurt me,” Norcoast said to the pastor in a frenzied voice.
“Dani Rawls was a good friend, a wonderful sister,” Clancy said. “She was a sheep in my flock. And so was Leesa Fletcher once. I baptized that girl. You led her astray, Councilman. You’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing. My own deacons do some disciplining from time to time—so don’t you tell me what I can and can’t do. Seems to me you could use a little disciplining.”
Norcoast searched the other eyes, from Leesa’s father to her brother to Gracie’s father. He found even less sympathy.
“What do you want from me?” Norcoast asked Clarence.
“The truth,” Clarence said. “Telling us the truth is your only hope. First, did you sleep with Leesa Fletcher?”
“No. No!” he said. Clarence stepped toward him. The councilman put up his hands. “Okay. Yes, yes I did. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He looked at Leesa’s father and brother, backing away from them until he hit the front of his desk.
“And were you the father of the child Leesa was carrying?” Clarence asked.
“Yes. I think so. That’s what she said anyway.”
“Did you have her killed with the drug overdose?”
“No! I’d never do anything like that. I’m no killer. I swear it!”
“You think you can pull our chain,” Harley said, taking a step toward him, “like we’re a bunch of dumb shoeshine boys?”
“No, no. I don’t. I don’t think that.”
“Did you order the hit on Leesa’s house that ended up killing Dani?” Clarence asked.
“No! I’ve never tried to hurt anybody. Not Leesa, not anyone.”
“Did you put Gracie up to framing me? Or did you have somebody give her bad crack to kill her?”
“No. Never!”
Clarence moved up within inches of Norcoast and put his hands on the councilman’s suit lapels. “I don’t think I believe you. How about the rest of you?” He turned and looked at the faces, either ang
ry or stoic. “Maybe we should start off getting some justice for what he did to Leesa.”
“Okay Norcoast,” Clarence said fifteen minutes later. “Call in Carson Gray.”
Norcoast, trembling, pressed his intercom. “Carson, I need you in my office. Yes, well, tell him you’ll call him later. Get in here. Now.”
Twenty seconds later Carson opened the door and entered Norcoast’s office, then stopped dead in his tracks, surveying his surroundings like a second lieutenant walking into a room full of majors and colonels. He looked at his boss, who was disheveled and agitated, dripping with sweat.
“Carson,” Norcoast said, “tell them everything you know about Leesa Fletcher. Everything.”
“What’s going on here?” Gray asked.
“These,” Clarence said, hand outstretched, “are the family members of Dani Rawls, Leesa Fletcher, and Gracie Miller. We’re here to get justice.” Gray’s eyes moved slightly, just a little twitch. “We know about how you paid off Shadow, Gracie, and Mookie,” Clarence said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gray said.
“We know everything,” Clarence said, borrowing a page from Ollie’s book.
“Then you don’t need me, do you? If you have something to say, say it to my lawyer. You’re not getting anything from me.”
“Okay,” Clarence said, “let me put it another way. Tell us everything, or I’ll kill you and your boss.”
Gray’s eyebrows rose half an inch. “Kill us? You’re too funny, Abernathy.”
Clarence reached over to the long black leather case, unzipped it, and took out the HK53. He cradled it in his arms and stared at Gray. Jake and Clancy exchanged glances, looking shocked and uncertain. The ante had suddenly upped. Jake stepped toward Clarence, then hesitated, stopping still five feet away.
“This,” Clarence said, “is the weapon the thugs you hired planned to use on an eighteen-year-old girl.”
“My daughter,” Mr. Fletcher said, eyes steely.
“But the morons got the wrong street, as you know, Gray. So they used this weapon,” Clarence turned the HK53 three-quarters of the way toward Gray, “on my sister and my five-year-old niece.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with that.” Gray looked around the room, his suit fitting even more awkwardly than usual, since his entire torso was in retreat.
The agitated faces of the big men clearly unnerved Gray, especially Harley’s face, framed by his thick black Malcolm X glasses. Gray’s eyes darted away from Clarence to the other men, then back toward him. He looked like a scared rabbit trapped under the gaze of a pack of hunting dogs.
“Gentlemen, please,” Gray said, “there’s obviously a misunderstanding here.” Harley stepped toward him and Gray jumped back. “Wait. I’m a member of the NAACP. The councilman and I have a long history of supporting civil rights.”
“I’m impressed,” Harley said with a growl. “Tell me you give to the United Negro College Fund, and I’ll dance a jig and shine your shoes, you little pip-squeak.”
“We want to hear you talk, Gray.” Clarence pointed the barrel toward him only a moment, then fixed it on Norcoast. “But let’s finish with your boss first. He’s already admitted to sleeping with Leesa Fletcher and getting her pregnant. Haven’t you, Reg?”
“Yes.” Norcoast hung his head.
Gray looked at Norcoast in disbelief. He felt unable to swallow as he watched Clarence point the weapon at his boss, his finger now on the trigger.
“If I killed you here and now,” Clarence said to Norcoast, “it might be the only chance of getting any real justice. For what you did to that girl you deserve to die.”
“Come on, Clarence,” Clancy said, stepping forward, sounding nervous. “He’s not worth it. Just call a press conference and hang out their dirty laundry. Don’t go to jail for it.”
“The Councilman’s holding out on us,” Clarence said. “There’s more he needs to confess. Okay, Mr. Norcoast, I’ll give you to the count of three.” He held out the rifle in shooting position, pointing it straight at Norcoast’s chest. “One.”
“No,” Norcoast said, voice cracking. “Please. There’s nothing else.”
“Clarence, what are you doing?” Jake Woods stepped toward him, his hands extended. “Come on, brother. You promised no serious injury, remember? Let’s think this over, okay?”
“I have thought it over,” Clarence reached out his long left arm and pushed Jake hard. “Stay back, Jake. Two.”
“Please, don’t.” Norcoast sounded pathetic.
“Three.” Gray and Norcoast and several of the other men looked at Clarence Abernathy in horror. Fire seemed to burn in his eyes. His finger turned white on the trigger. Everyone watched breathlessly, frozen to the floor. Suddenly the trigger gave and a hail of gunfire rang out.
The huge rifle jerked in Clarence’s hands, and a wide-eyed Norcoast fell backward, landing flat and motionless behind his desk. Clarence had fired six rounds in the second before Jake and Cairo tackled him. They wrestled him down, trying to pull the gun from his arms. Finally they pried it loose, and Jake pulled out the magazine.
Norcoast’s body lay in a crumpled heap back of his desk. Carson Gray was moaning, face drained of color. His knees buckled. He fell to the ground like a monk falling to prayer at the appointed hour. He looked up in disbelief.
Jake rushed behind the desk, stooping low over Norcoast. He put his fingers first to the wrist, then frantically to his neck. “Nothing,” Jake said. “Nothing!” He turned to Clarence, a look of betrayal on his face.
The roomful of men stood motionless, no one looking sure what to do next.
“I’m calling 911,” Jake said, stretching his hand to the phone on the desk. Clarence yanked on the phone, ripping it from the cord and dropping it on the floor. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his Glock 17. He only half pointed it at Jake, as if he didn’t want to.
“Stay where you are, Jake. All of you. Look, I don’t want to hurt any of you. It’ll all be over in a few minutes. You didn’t do this, I did. I’ll tell the cops I misled you all. I’m just not going to let Gray get away with it.” He stared at Gray, his eyes looking as fearsome as the gun barrel. “I’ve already killed one man. Won’t make any difference if it’s two.”
He stepped toward Gray and pointed the Glock at his forehead. “Talk now, Gray, and I might let you live.”
“Grab him, stop him,” Gray said. “Please. Somebody help me.”
Jake stepped toward Clarence again.
“Get back, Jake, I mean it. I’m turning myself in when I’m done. But first I finish with Gray.”
Clarence squeezed the handle and the red light appeared on Gray’s forehead.
“Clarence, don’t,” Clancy said. “Let the law take care of him.”
“Stay back, Pastor. The law doesn’t take care of them, you know that. There’s no justice anymore. Well, there’s justice here today.”
“No, no, wait, don’t,” Gray begged.
“Clarence, let me talk to him.” Clancy stepped boldly into the line of fire. He whispered to Gray, “Tell me the truth. I’m not talking as a reverend, I’m not asking for a religious confession. I’m telling you if you give me the truth right now, I’ll walk you out of this room and you can call the police and get some protection. Tell me who did it and they can go after them. Give me some names. But if you don’t…well, you’re on your own.”
“But I’m innocent. I never did anything,” Gray said. “It was all Norcoast. I’ll testify against him. I will.”
“I’ve seen enough,” Clancy said. “I’m out of here.” He walked for the door.
“You can call the police,” Clarence said, “but by the time they get here Gray’ll be dead.”
“No, Reverend, you can’t leave.” Gray moved a foot toward him, then suddenly stopped when he saw a red beam out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve always supported you. I’ve always thought the world of your church. Our office donated that memorial bell,
remember?”
Clancy looked at him with disgust. He walked out the door and closed it behind him.
Clarence trained the red dot back on Gray’s forehead. “You’ve got till I count to five to confess your sins. No, you’ve got a lot of sins. How about I count to ten? If I don’t think you’ve confessed everything, I pull the trigger. One.”
“You can’t let him do this,” Gray said to the men, most of them backed against the wall, ten feet from Clarence.
“He’s got the gun, we don’t,” Harley said.
“Two.”
“Wait, Mr. Abernathy, no, please,” Gray said.
“Three.”
“Yes, okay, all right,” Gray said. “Norcoast told me he got the girl pregnant. I set up an appointment for her abortion and sent her directions to the clinic, with a thousand dollars for the abortion and some extra to take care of her. That was only right.”
Leesa’s father looked at him with eyes that could kill, but weren’t going to have to.
“Four.”
“Wait! I’m telling the truth,” Gray said. “I don’t know anything about your sister and your niece, Mr. Abernathy, I swear it. I never hired anybody to kill the Fletcher girl. I thought she just died of heart failure—that’s what I was told. Okay, I started to wonder about it when I heard the autopsy said drug overdose. I thought maybe Norcoast had her taken care of. Maybe he did. I got somebody to…adjust the autopsy report. I’ll give you the name, I’ll tell you who, okay?”
“Five,” Clarence said. “What about Gracie?”
“I contacted a gangbanger—Shadow—I paid him to get some girl to set you up. I didn’t want to know who it was. I didn’t know who it was until it happened. I paid somebody to follow you and put you out of commission so you wouldn’t have an alibi. But I specifically told him not to kill you, okay?”
“Six. Who did you pay to put drugs in my coffee? I want a name.”
