Murder in the Marsh

by Ramsey Coutta

  “If you make one wrong move, you’ll die,” the Sheriff declared convincingly. “I want you to turn around again. I’m going to unlock your handcuffs, and then you’re going to wrap your arms around the piling next to you. Do you understand?”

  Daniel nodded and turned around obediently following the Sheriff’s orders. The Sheriff unlocked the handcuff on his right wrist while leaving it still attached to his left. As the Sheriff ordered, he wrapped his arms around the thick piling. The Sheriff then handcuffed both wrists back together again and told Daniel to sit on the floor with his legs wrapped around the wooden pole. Daniel complied wondering what would take place next. The Sheriff pulled up a wooden crate and sat down staring at Daniel as if examining his features more closely. Over a minute passed before the Sheriff said anything.

  “Did you think I would just allow you to come in here, snoop around, and dredge up the past, and do nothing?” the Sheriff finally broke the silence.

  Thoughts flashed through Daniel’s mind, as he tried to comprehend what the Sheriff meant. Dredge up the past? Did the Sheriff think he was trying to use the results of his study against the oil and sulphur companies, which had done all the canal dredging and coastal marshland damage? Was the Sheriff on the dole for big oil and serving as their local strong man?

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about Sheriff?”

  “Still playing dumb, huh Trahan? You’re not fooling me.”

  “Sheriff, if you’re referring to my study of coastal erosion, I assure you the objective is not to pin the blame on anyone. I simply want to look for solutions.”

  “Trahan, you can drop the pretense. We both know you’re not here to investigate coastal erosion. You’re here to investigate a murder. You probably don’t even work for the Department of the Interior. I would say F.B.I. is more like it.”

  Now Daniel felt really confused. Investigate a murder? F.B.I.? Where was the Sheriff coming up with this kind of stuff? No wonder he was acting so strangely.

  “Sheriff, I don’t know what murder you’re talking about, but that’s not why I’m here. And I’m not an employee of the F.B.I. I work for the Department of the Interior as an environmental hydrologist as you saw on my ID. The only thing I’m here to study is the marshlands. I don’t know anything about a murder.”

  Sheriff Holet had interviewed a lot of criminals and a lot of liars. He developed a skill at determining who was telling the truth and who was lying. Trahan’s voice and demeanor suggested he was possibly telling the truth. But his actions the past couple of days indicated otherwise. Was it possible that this man before him truly wasn’t investigating the murder of James Trahan? Could it be simply coincidence that he just happened to show up in the parish asking a lot of questions, spending significant amounts of time in the marsh, and truly have no interest in finding out about the death of his father? It just seemed too coincidental. Sheriff Holet finally concluded he was right in suspecting Trahan. Trahan must be lying!

  “Like father, like son, Trahan… You know your father might still be living today if he just minded his own business. And you might have lived too. But you’re too much like your father.”

  The Sheriff’s words stunned Daniel. His father! This was about his father? A father he had never known, but a father he wondered about nearly every day of his life. The Sheriff must have been involved in his disappearance—in his murder. Daniel’s mind was spinning. The pieces were coming together. The Sheriff believed he came to Plaquemines Parish to investigate the disappearance of his father. The Sheriff was involved or had knowledge of his father’s disappearance, which now sounded like murder, and viewed Daniel as a threat. With something as serious as murder, the Sheriff couldn’t just let him go. The Sheriff would likely take care of him as well.

  Sheriff Holet observed the look of shock and confusion that swept over Trahan. Maybe he was telling the truth after all. Or maybe he was just a good actor. Nevertheless, it was too late now. The truth had come out and Trahan would have to die.

  “You murdered my father?” Daniel asked in confused disbelief.

  “No. Your father murdered himself. It was inevitable. He knew what he was getting himself into when he publicly opposed Rennes Lauzon. Lauzon didn’t take that from anybody. Especially not a mulatto. Your father is to blame for his own death.”

  “You took part in the killing of my father?”

  “If you want to get technical, yes.”

  “Why? Why did you kill him?”

  “I told you. Your father mouthed off to Rennes Lauzon. In those days, blacks and mulattoes didn’t question authority. If they did, there would be consequences. Your father showed up at a private meeting, confronted Lauzon, and Lauzon ordered his death. I was a deputy at the time, and when Lauzon gave an order you followed it. For what it’s worth, I didn’t personally have anything against your father, but I had no choice.”

  “Yes, you had a choice. And you chose murder!” Daniel said angrily, wanting to clamp his hands around the Sheriff’s throat and squeeze the life out of him. All his repressed thoughts and feelings came boiling to the surface, and he felt anger such as he had never known. His face turned red, and he felt as if he could almost break the handcuffs that bound him. He lunged like a caged animal at the Sheriff, but the handcuffs and piling were too strong.

  As thoughts of anger and revenge filled his mind, another voice, another presence filled his heart. It came like a memory, a memory from long ago when he still attended church. A biblical lesson that he had learned as a boy from the teachings of Christ came to mind. To hate someone was the same as committing murder in your heart. His desire to kill this man, his hatred for this man, was no better than the murder the Sheriff committed upon his father. He would not allow himself to be the same as this murderer before him. He would not follow that path.

  Daniel felt himself becoming calmer. He prayed silently to himself, something he had not done for a very long time. “Lord, if you’re there, help me. I need your presence. Help me not to hate this man for what he has done. See me through this.”

  “Call it what you will, Trahan. The fact is your father knew what he was doing. You did too, and I can’t allow you to stir up the past.”

  Daniel remained silent for a moment. He then looked up at the Sheriff and said, “Before you kill me, at least tell me about my father’s final moments.”

  The Sheriff frowned and remained silent for a moment. “Alright. If you want to know, I’ll tell you. We first took your father to old Fort St. Philip across the river. We then brought him to this very location you are now. This was Rennes Lauzon’s fish camp before he died. Your father was a devout man to the end. He was praying before he died, and he tried to share the gospel with us, if you can believe that…”

  “I can believe it,” Daniel said quietly, remembering things his mother had said about his dad.

  “Anyway, before he died…”

  “Before he was murdered, you mean.”

  “Before he died, he said he forgave us of our sin. Yes, it was a sin, but I couldn’t I let my family suffer by not following Lauzon’s orders. Once you became a deputy in those days, you belonged to him. Even your life and that of your family’s.”

  “How did you kill him?”

  “Drowning. We ended it for him out there,” the Sheriff said, pointing in the direction of Bay Batiste.

  Daniel didn’t say anything. He lowered his head between his arms. He had never really felt emotional about the disappearance of his father. He had only been a baby, and it had not been an experience he remembered. Now the reality of his father’s death overcame him. The loss he had never really acknowledged over the years hit him full force. He grieved for the father he had never known and the time never spent together.

  When Daniel’s emotions ebbed, he asked the Sheriff, “Now what?”

  “I think you know Trahan. I have no desire to relive the past, but what other choice do I have. You know the whole story of your father’s death. You’re a threat to m
e, my family and my career. How can I let you go at this point? But I do have one final thing to show you.”

  The sheriff reached into his shirt pocket and held up a gold wedding band between his fingers for Daniel to see.

  “Do you know what this is, Trahan?”

  Daniel didn’t reply.

  “It’s a ring your father gave me before he died. It was his wedding ring. He asked me to send it to your mother, but for obvious reasons I didn’t. I’ve kept it all these years, not knowing what to do with it. Now I do. It’s time to do away with it, and to do away with the past once and for all. And to do that, I have to do away with you.”

  Daniel looked at the ring, imagining the wedding when his mother gave the ring to his father. His father must have known what was coming before he died. How difficult it must have been for his mother when he never returned home.

  “If I’m to die, then at least tell me how.”

  “Like father, like son, Trahan. Tonight.”

  Nineteen

  Nightfall descended across Plaquemines Parish. Few stars were visible through the increasingly cloudy skies. A stiff wind blew from the southeast to the northwest and the waters became progressively choppier. Rachel listened on the marine radio for any call from Claude or Daniel, but none came. She became more worried with each passing hour. She should have heard from them by now, if everything had gone successfully. She tried several times an hour to see if she could make contact, but static was the only reply.

  Adele kept busy. She spent her time rotating between tending to Andre, checking the TV for weather updates, and seeing if Rachel had heard anything. Little Michelle helped her mother as best she could to comfort her brother. The tension Rachel and Adele felt continued to grow with each passing minute. They called the 911 dispatcher back several times, but either the line was busy or the dispatcher said no help was currently available. They worried that Andre’s condition would deteriorate even further before help arrived.

  The local TV weatherman seemed to be even more concerned about the danger of Hurricane Katrina, and forecasted it to be a significant weather event for New Orleans. The President of the United States, the Mayor of New Orleans, and the Governor of Louisiana, all appeared on the TV that afternoon, warning about the dangers of the storm and pressing for an immediate evacuation. The Director of the National Hurricane Center warned that Hurricane Katrina was an unusually large and strong storm having nearly doubled in size throughout the day, with tropical storm force winds extending 140 nautical miles from the center. It had reached a high Category Three and the Director felt it could go even higher. While it continued heading in a westerly direction, the Director expressed certainty it would shortly turn northwesterly towards New Orleans and Plaquemines Parish.

  As Rachel sat by the marine radio, she picked up a Bible she borrowed from Adele. She turned to one of her favorite scripture passages in times of trouble: Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. As she read, she felt the spirit leading her to pray. She closed the Bible and followed its leading.

  “Heavenly Father, I know that all things and all events are under your control. You created the universe and the heavens and the earth. You created the mountains and the seas. Nothing happens without your knowledge and your approval. You allow the rain to fall on the just and the unjust alike. But you say that you will work all things for the good for those that love you. Father, I come to you in prayer to petition for Andre that you might see him safely through this physical trial and provide him the care that he needs. I pray for Adele, Michelle, and myself that you might guide us to safety and give us courage in the face of the storm. I pray for Daniel and Claude that you might be watching over them and directing them back to us. Father, I pray that you will hear my prayer and may your will be done. Amen”

  As she finished praying, Rachel felt calmer about whatever the next several hours might bring. Adele came into the room and asked if Rachel had heard anything. Rachel nodded her head slowly no, but said she would try to call out again. She picked up the mic and called for Daniel and Claude. She waited, but only heard static. She tried again and then listened. As she did so, she heard a faint thumping sound. At first she thought it was coming from the marine radio, but then realized it was coming from outside the house. She could tell that the sound was quickly growing closer and soon discerned the familiar sound of a helicopter approaching. The blades beat the thick humid air while the engine turbine whirred powerfully. They had heard numerous helicopters that day. All seemed to be company helicopters ferrying offshore workers in from the oil platforms. But they had heard none since nightfall. Rachel and Adele rushed out to the dock and searched the sky. Coming from the south, they could see the light of the helicopter sweeping the ground as it headed their way. As they watched, the helicopter paused overhead and flashed its powerful search beam down on them. The violent down draft of the blades required them to cling on to the dock pilings under the deafening noise of the engines. Water from the canal splashed up and covered them in a fine mist. As they looked up, they could make out the markings “U.S. Coast Guard.”

  Rachel and Adele stepped back towards the house as they saw a pararescuer wearing an orange jumpsuit and white helmet begin to descend from a winch attached to the side of the helicopter. When he reached the dock, he unhooked himself from the cable, looked up, and gave a motion upwards. The cable snaked upwards. He walked toward Rachel and Adele, motioning for them to lead the way into the house. Once inside, he identified himself as Petty Office Norman Thompson, a rescue swimmer and medic. As the helicopter hovered overhead, he explained they had received a report about a boy with appendicitis. They were on their way in from the helicopter crash in the gulf with a full load, but they had enough room for one more person. He asked them to lead him to Andre. The medic examined the ailing boy. He gently probed his abdomen area, asked some questions of Adele, and confirmed that he thought it was acute appendicitis. He said Andre would need to be airlifted immediately, but they only had room for him.

  Adele, torn by the decision to send Andre alone, nevertheless agreed it would be best for him to go. She asked about room for Michelle, but the medic reluctantly shook his head no. The medic explained that it was unlikely they would be able to return tomorrow to pick up the rest of them because of the increasing winds. Their helicopter would likely be grounded for the duration of the hurricane. Rachel, Adele, and Michelle would have to make it out on their own. The medic said he would report their situation to the local authorities.

  The medic looked back outside the house and spoke on his helmet radio. Shortly afterwards, a stretcher basket began to descend. He went back inside the home to Andre’s room. He explained that he would have to lift Andre and carry him to the basket, but he would give him a shot for pain. Adele kissed and stroked her son’s face as she said a tearful farewell, and promised to be back with him soon. After the medic gave Andre the shot, he put both arms under the boy and lifted him up. The medicine had not had much time to take affect, and Andre groaned in pain while lying limply in the medic’s arms. The medic carried Andre out to the awaiting basket as Adele followed. Rachel stayed by the door with Michelle. The medic strapped Andre into the basket and attached himself to a secondary clasp. He gave a hand signal and they ascended to the helicopter. Adele retreated to the side of Rachel and Michelle, crying as she watched her son being taken inside the cabin of the helicopter. After a brief pause, the helicopter tipped forward and flew north. The three of them went back inside the house and began to prepare for the trip they would have to take in the morning.

  Twenty

  During the afternoon, the Sheriff periodically called in on his marine radio to the dispatcher, to report his continuing sweep of the bayous and bays. He lied and said he would look for Claude when the dispatcher informed him of the missing shrimper. H
e then disappeared in the patrol boat for about an hour before returning. He left Daniel handcuffed to the wooden piling, while he then took several short naps, waking up just long enough to check on his captive. This went on for several hours, until darkness shrouded the marsh. Daniel had been busily thinking about how he might escape. It would depend on what opportunities the Sheriff presented. Daniel also thought about Rachel and her devout spirituality and the sense of strength it gave her. He thought about his own situation and his nearness to death. As an adult, he discounted thoughts of the afterlife, but now the question forcefully confronted him. He also remembered what the Sheriff said about his father and his faith. Daniel wondered if he could ever be as strong spirituality as he was.

  When it turned dark, the Sheriff became active. He brought in a thick nylon rope and several stone cinder blocks from the boat. The Sheriff also double-checked his 9mm. Daniel guessed that the Sheriff planned to tie him up and shoot him and then sink his body using the cinder blocks. He would probably do it out away from the camp in the deeper waters of the bay. His body would remain pinned to the bottom of the bay long enough that the crabs and fish would destroy his remains before they could be found. It was not a pleasant thought.

  After the Sheriff gathered his supplies, he came for Daniel. With a flashlight in one hand he drew his 9mm with the other and pointed it at Daniel.

  “This is what’s going to happen,” the Sheriff spoke slowly and concisely. “I’m going to toss you the keys and you’re going to unlock the handcuffs from one wrist. You will then slide back from the piling and toss the keys back to me. Then you’ll reattach the handcuff to your free wrist. When you do that you’ll stand and walk slowly towards the front door. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, now make every movement slow and easy,” the Sheriff said, tossing him the keys.