Drama in the Church Saga

by Dynah Zale

  West sighed. “After all this is over, am I going to be able to return to the life I had before?”

  The agent looked at him and solemnly replied, “Let’s hope so.” He pulled a letter from the folder and handed it to West. “This came for you sometime last week.”

  Judge West stared at it a moment before snatching it out of the agent’s hand. He glanced at the return address. The envelope looked like it had gone through Baghdad before coming to him. It was torn, taped, and the corners were worn. He knew the letter had probably been examined by practically every government agency. “You know once you find out my mail isn’t a bomb or death threat from the brotherhood you should give me a chance to read it first.”

  “West, you know we have to take the necessary precautions to keep you safe.”

  Judge West skimmed through the letter and threw it back on the table.

  “Your grandson said he found out something about your past.”

  “He couldn’t have found out anything to be overly concerned about.” Judge West was sure Dean was overreacting.

  “I’m not so sure about that. The guy has been up here every day for the past week trying to see you. He knows something.” The agent pushed the file folder toward him. “That’s what this meeting is about. In this folder we typed up explanation scenarios for you to read through. Once you talk to your grandson, you feed him one of the stories we provided. You may have to add your own spin to make it sound believable, but it’s the best we could do.”

  “So, you want me to tell him a bunch of lies?”

  “It’s not lies. We just altered the truth.”

  West rolled his eyes.

  “Like I told you before, this is for his safety as well as yours.”

  “We’ve set up a special room just for your visit with your grandson. The room is tapped. Everything you say will be monitored.” The agent got up and walked toward the door. “Read through the material. I’ll tell the guard to give you some time alone in here before taking you back to your cell. It’s going to take you a while to read through that.”

  The door slammed shut again, and Ernest pulled the contents out of the folder and began reading.

  Dean sat in the county jail visiting room in a dazed state of mind. It was hard for him to clear his mind of the picture he’d found in his grandpa’s attic. He studied it from every angle, praying that his eyes were somehow deceiving him.

  Before leaving the house, Dean dropped to his knees in prayer. He had to see his grandpa, and only a miracle worker could make that happen. Each time he tried on his own he was turned away, but today he received a pleasant surprise. When he requested to visit with Ernie West, the gates were opened and he was allowed entry.

  Dean checked his watch three times. He wondered how much longer it would be before his grandpa arrived. Suddenly, the lock outside the room turned and the door swung open. Judge West entered the room wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and shackles that bound his hands and feet. His prison escort pushed him over to the table across from Dean. Then the guard securely handcuffed his feet to the floor and hands to the table.

  Dean stared in astonishment. He could not believe how prison life had changed his grandpa for the worse. The man who stood before him was a stranger. He had dropped ten pounds, his skin was a ghastly white, and his hair had grown so long that strands reached his shoulder.

  This wasn’t the same man Dean idolized as a child. The Judge West he knew stood up to injustice, but the man who sat before him had accepted defeat and was now a coward.

  “How are you doing?”

  The judge grunted in response, and silence planted itself at their table.

  Dean kept trying to make eye contact with his grandpa, but he refused to look in Dean’s direction. “If a man avoids looking you in the eye, that means he can’t be trusted.”

  Judge West glared at his grandson.

  “That was one of those precious jewels you preached to me as a kid. You promised it would be beneficial to me when I became an adult.” Dean cleared his throat. “We’ll, I’m an adult now.”

  Although Dean was talking to his grandfather in a stern, cold manner he could see how humiliating this was for his grandpa. Dean didn’t want to waste any more time. He pulled the picture out his coat pocket, laid it on the table and pushed it in front of his grandpa. “When you were arrested I told myself that it had to be a mistake, that you would never do any of the things that they were accusing you of, but this picture proves otherwise.”

  The judge lowered his eyes. He wasn’t ready to face the truth. It was hard to see his past stare back at him. Judge West picked up the photo and moved it closer to his face. He was immediately taken back in time to the day the picture was taken.

  “I thought I knew who you really were, but this photo paints a different picture. Do you know what I see when I look at this sickening picture?” Dean was angry.

  “I . . . I . . .” Judge West’s voice cracked, and he put his head down momentarily to regain his composure. “I never wanted you to find out this way. I’d give my life to protect you from the truth.”

  “What is the truth?” Dean pounded his fist against the table.

  The urge to confess everything was strong, but if he deviated from the script a horde of federal agents would burst in and cut his visit short. Then they probably wouldn’t allow him to have any more while he was in lock up.

  “The truth is, at one point in my life I was an active member of the Ku Klux Klan.”

  Dean shut his eyes to block out his grandpa’s upsetting words. “Why?” Dean shook his head, as if to dispel the thoughts from his head.

  “I know it’s hard to understand, but I was raised in a house that lived and breathed hatred. Both my parents were card-carrying members of the brotherhood. My grandfather was a high-ranking official in the Klan, and my great-great-granddaddy owned at least forty slaves on his plantation. That’s the kind of ancestry I inherited from my family.”

  For the first time in his life Judge West saw disappointment in Dean’s eyes.

  “From the moment I learned to read, I was forced to study books that depicted whites as the superior race. It consumed my life. Wherever I went, white purity and segregation was preached. ‘Don’t allow the coloreds to move next door to you, or your property value will fall. Don’t allow those Negro children in our schools or your children will turn out dumb just like them.’ It went on and on.”

  “What about the kid you’re accused of murdering?”

  Repulsed by the sight of that picture, the judge flipped it over face down on the table. “I told you I was brainwashed. I believed I was doing the Lord’s work.”

  “That included killing an innocent kid?” Dean jumped up and kicked his chair across the room. It crashed loudly against the wall. He paced the room hysterically, repeatedly slamming his fist into his bare hands. “I don’t know you at all,” he shouted. “I’ve been living with a liar my entire life.”

  “Dean, I understand you’re upset, but I won’t allow you to continue disrespecting me. I’m still your grandfather.”

  “Please! Don’t talk to me about respect when you’re chained to the table,” Dean yelled from across the room.

  “Please,” his grandpa begged him. “Hear me out?”

  Dean wasn’t sure if was ready to hear any more. It took him a moment to get control of his feelings. Eventually he picked his chair up from off the floor and sat back at the table.

  “Every member initiated that enters the brotherhood must take an oath of secrecy. I vowed to never divulge any information that could harm myself, the order or any members in the brotherhood. That night I accepted a lifetime membership into one of America’s most powerful circles. The Grand Wizard made it clear. The only way out was by death.

  “When hate simmers it fuels anger, and when you least expect it, that anger will boil over and lash out at the first person you see. That’s what happened the night that kid died. They pumped so much hate into me that for me t
o take that young boy’s life meant nothing.”

  The judge could tell Dean believed every word of his story. He wished he could tell him the real story. “A few days after the”—West chose his words carefully—“incident, pandemonium broke out throughout town. Racial tension was high. Everyone wanted to know who killed that kid. The mayor and governor were under a lot of pressure from the White House to place someone under arrest.

  “I steered clear from a lot of my friends for the next few days, then before I knew it, a man I had never met before confessed to the killing and his trial started shortly thereafter. I could not figure out why that guy would admit to a murder that could send him to jail for life. During the trial, I sat in the back of the courtroom thinking it could’ve been me sitting before a judge and jury.

  “I will never forget the prosecution’s closing remarks. He called that man names like Satan and the Prince of Darkness. He described the killing as cruel and vile and said that no respectable human being could commit such an act. The prosecutor’s words convicted me. The more he talked, the more I felt like he was peeling away layers of who I really was. For the first time in my life I felt unworthy. I didn’t even think I deserved to live among society any longer. I thought the brotherhood would revoke my membership and make me an outcast.

  “An all-white jury found him guilty, but he was only sentenced to ten years probation. The coloreds were outraged he received such a light punishment, but there was nothing they could do about it.”

  “Did you ever find out why that guy took the blame for you?” Dean eyes were full of curiosity.

  Judge West nodded. “When I exited the courthouse I was surprised at the number of people who had descended upon the courthouse steps. Never in my life had I seen so many people assembled in one place before. It was amazing the crowds this case had attracted. I looked to the left and there were thousands of colored people holding up signs demanding justice, and to the right were the whites who wanted the murderer to go free. Straight down the middle, keeping the two groups separated, stood the National Guard in army fatigues, holding rifles in their hands. Ready to point and shoot.

  “From the corner of my eye I spotted the Grand Wizard standing behind a pillar, quietly observing the crowd. This was the first time I had ever seen him not adorning that bright red satin robe. When I approached him I started to talk, but he stopped me with his hand. Then he pointed for me to listen. We watched the stylish, educated, and articulate prosecutor step up to the podium.

  “I watched him carefully explain to the crowd that justice had been served that afternoon. He said, ‘The accused has been found guilty, and although his punishment may seem minimal, it isn’t. The state of North Carolina is committed to protecting its people.’

  “Hypnotized by his words, the crowd digested his sincerity and walked away believing every word he said. No one questioned or doubted his position. They assumed because he took an oath to uphold equality for all that he had done his job. The Grand Wizard turned to me and said, ‘See what he did? He’s a lawyer who has mastered the art of persuasion. His body language and voice tone represents a trustworthy man. He is one of our most valuable assets. That’s why I couldn’t allow you to get charged with killing that boy. One day you’re going to be standing at that podium speaking the same words he did today.’

  “That next semester I enrolled in law school. The brotherhood paid for every bit of my education. Through huge charitable donations, my entire college education was paid for.

  “While I was away at school the one phrase I couldn’t get out of my head was when that prosecutor called that man the Prince of Darkness. I wondered if that was how people viewed me. I thought I was doing the Lord’s work by upholding racial justice. That is when I did something that I rarely did. I prayed on it. I mean I prayed morning noon and night. I asked God to ease the tension that was bothering me every day.

  “After graduation, I was still confused about the purpose for my life. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go back to the brotherhood and do the things they expected me to do. I ran away and that is how I landed in Washington, DC.

  “That’s where I met your grandmother. She came from a very rich liberal family, and her passion in life was to help the less fortunate. She organized various charity events throughout the city, and it was only because of her that I began to understand that things aren’t always what they seem. Your grandmother wasn’t a lawyer, but she sure debated like one.” He laughed. “She could quote me facts and figures on everything from inequality in education to unfair hiring practices. I loved her passion. That’s one of the reasons why I married her.” The judge lingered in the moment. “Life was good for us. We were married, bought a house, then along came your father. I couldn’t have been happier.”

  Chapter 8

  Spring 2008

  “I’m curious. What made you two sign up for a singles retreat?” Danyelle lodged her head between Dean and Olivia. “After close to two years of dating, I consider neither of you single.”

  Dean glared at Danyelle from behind the wheel of his Lincoln Navigator. Her witty sarcasm was annoying, especially when he knew they had a three-hour road trip ahead of them. He should have listened to Olivia when she suggested Danyelle ride to the resort on the church bus. It isn’t too late, he thought. Members were still loading the bus, and if Danyelle kept running her mouth, Dean was very close to putting her bags on the curb.

  “Dean and I look forward to strengthening our relationship with Christ this weekend. Reverend Simms reminded us how important it is for Christian couples to have Jesus as their foundation.” Olivia adjusted her seat belt in the front passenger seat.

  “The life we build together will endure a few tremors and probably a few earthquakes that will make us feel like the world is going to swallow us whole. But, if the structure we build is set on solid ground and not sinking sand, we will get through the hard times.” Dean caressed Olivia’s hand.

  “That was corny.” Danyelle rolled her eyes. Her suspicions were finally confirmed. Dean was a fool ridiculously in love. Olivia was just as hopeless as her boyfriend. Danyelle watched them smile lovingly at one another. She sucked her teeth.

  Danyelle was a pessimist when it came to matters of the heart, and she preferred to live her life according to the teachings of Paul the Apostle. He wrote in the book of Corinthians that it’s best to stay unmarried and focus on the work of the Lord. Paul never condemned those who did get married, but Danyelle knew marriage was not for her. She always thought that being married was a full-time job. That was too much work.

  Danyelle sat back in her seat and accidentally bumped into Val. “Sorry.”

  Val never acknowledged Danyelle’s apology. Instead, she continued to stare out the window.

  Danyelle was fully aware that Val was probably still mourning the death of her boyfriend, but she felt like her own safety was in danger. She feared that Val would unravel at any moment and take her anger out on the wrong person.

  Careful not to make any sudden movements, Danyelle cautiously whispered in her sister’s ear, “I don’t think it’s wise for her to be around people.” Danyelle nodded her head in Val’s direction. “She looks unstable. Look at her.”

  “She’s fine,” Olivia insisted. “Aunt Stephie and I agreed it would do her some good to get out the house and immerse herself in some fresh mountain air.”

  “I haven’t heard her speak in weeks,” Danyelle replied.

  Olivia noticed that since Julian’s death Val had turned into a recluse. Everything about her had changed. Buried along with Julian was that friendly, outgoing and confident black woman Olivia admired her whole life, leaving behind someone she didn’t recognize. Val had crawled into her own private cocoon and watched the world as it passed her by.

  “Danyelle, please sit back and be quiet.” Olivia pulled out a book from her bag and shoved it toward her sister. “Here, read this.”

  “This is Bryce’s Winnie the Pooh book,” Danyelle complained. />
  A headache quickly formed at the corners of Olivia’s temples from Danyelle’s constant chatter. She lay back on the headrest.

  Suddenly, she shot straight up from the abrupt knocking on her window. Tressie stood outside waving her hand and motioned for Olivia to roll her window down.

  She pushed the power window down. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes settled on the small carry-on luggage bags sitting next to Tressie’s feet. Olivia jumped out of the truck. “Oh! No! You’re not going with us. You told me you didn’t want to go on the retreat.”

  “Dean, could you put my bags in the back please?” Tressie looked over Olivia’s shoulder and directed her request toward Dean.

  He obediently got out and made room in the trunk for Tressie’s things.

  “You can’t go! There are no more tickets left,” Olivia objected. “The church sold out weeks ago.”

  Tressie dug in her purse and pulled out her ticket, then slowly waved it in Olivia’s face.

  “Where did you get that from?” Olivia asked.

  “Ms. Young.” Tressie smacked on a piece of Bubblicious gum. “She said her bunions were giving her trouble and she wasn’t up for making the long trip. So I offered to buy her ticket.” Tressie cocked her head to the side and gave Olivia an overconfident smile, while ordering Danyelle to scoot over.

  Olivia pulled her sunglasses down from the top of her head and over her eyes. Any ideas she had about this being a nice relaxing oasis for her and Dean to escape to were now wiped away. With Danyelle, Val, and now Tressie tagging along, she was bound to get no rest at all.

  Their journey up to the mountains was a quiet one. Everyone slept most of the way, and just before they arrived at the resort campgrounds Olivia mentioned to Dean how tired he looked.

  “I am tired,” he replied. “I need to take a nap before dinner, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Sure. I know how exhausting it was for you to do all the driving. Plus, having to deal with my sister didn’t help any.” Olivia cracked a smile, but Dean didn’t seem amused. He looked like he was worried about something.