"Well, you are here as a courtesy, really. I think the world of you. This is going to hit you hard; that's why I wanted Dr. David here."
"Is it James?" I felt my eyes grow in size as though I'd seen a diving airplane and knew immediately I shouldn't have blurted James's name.
"Why would you think that?"
I looked at Dr. Switzer, and he shrugged his shoulders as if to ask, "Well, why would you think James might be arrested?"
"I'm not sure, just a feeling." I felt the rash start on my chest, and the familiar heat began to crawl up my neck.
"Yes, it's James." His glare was fatherly and sympathetic and confirmed my worse suspicions.
"What did he do?"
"James paid Tucker Thevenot and Keith Rousseau to kill Rodney and Susie." He put his chin down and slumped his shoulders but didn't take his eyes off me. I felt Dr. David's hand pat mine on the armrest.
"So, they were really going to kill Susie, too? Not just Rodney?" I thought about the posters with the bullet trajectories that showed the shooter aimed for both Susie and Rodney's heads, but I didn't want to believe that piece of evidence, so I let the information go in one ear and out the other.
"Yes. I'm sorry. The attorney general's office worked out a plea bargain with Rousseau, and he exposed the whole thing. Once he sang, Thevenot backed up his story."
"I figured the Klan was behind the shooting." My words evaporated into the air, unanswered, maybe unheard.
For a while, I watched the judge's mouth move but didn't hear anything he said. I sort of spaced out, something I had trained myself to do as a child—I would go to my happy place to avoid hearing the screaming when Daddy beat Susie, or James, or Mama. Only this time, when I blocked out everything, I couldn't find the beach and sunshine in my head.
When my hearing returned, Dr. David was kneeling beside my chair, taking my pulse. I felt a cold chill run up my spine, and I shuddered. I looked from Dr. David to Judge DeYoung.
"She's okay, Ed." Dr. David removed his hands from my wrist. "Sissy, you need to be brave and mature. The judge has more to tell you, and I can't have you fainting or going into trances. You did that when you were a little girl, but you are a grown woman, and you need to step up and be strong."
"There's more? More than my brother paying to have my sister killed?" I heard my voice rise two octaves like I was singing soprano in the choir. I tried to calm myself.
"Yes, the second case is your case—the beating and double rape." DeYoung glanced at Dr. David, who was still kneeling beside my chair. "It's been solved."
"Really?" I wasn't expecting what came next.
"You were correct. It was Warren Morrow and Joey LeBlanc. We have DNA proof." Judge DeYoung spoke slowly and leaned forward on his desk with his hands folded in a praying position. "Their goal was to scare you away from the case and warn you to keep quiet."
"Oh, my, God!" all I could think of was Joey LeBlanc's penis inside me, and I wanted to vomit. I stood up and asked for the bathroom. The judge pointed to his left, my right, at a door I'd never noticed, his own private john. I went in and stared at myself for a few minutes and thought about how to gain control, to act mature. I didn't need to fall apart now. At least not here, not in the judge's office.
I opened the door to Judge DeYoung's office, and the two men were talking quietly. They stopped when they saw me, and both watched me walk to the chair and sit down.
"Okay, I'm sorry." I smoothed out my skirt and crossed my legs. "Please, Judge. Is there anything else?"
"Yes. What I was about to tell you is that Morrow and LeBlanc were paid to scare you,"
"Was that James, too?"
"Yes, he paid Thevenot and Rousseau, and they passed the job on."
*
I ran out of the Courthouse without saying goodbye to Dr. Switzer or Judge DeYoung. I pulled into James's driveway and parked behind a state trooper's unit. I jumped from my car before it was fully stopped. I ran up the steps and through the front door screaming, "James! James!" I could see through the back door where two state troopers were speaking with James. I barreled through the door still hollering, "James!" He was standing at the top of his back steps, as though about to run. His eyes met mine and a sadness passed between us.
"Why? James? Why would you do what you did to me? You paid those creeps to rape me!"
"That was never supposed to happen." He smashed the empty beer can he was holding, threw it in the trashcan, and stared at me. The two troopers took a few steps back and watched us.
"What was supposed to happen, James?" My voice sounded high-pitched and strange, even to my own ears. "They almost killed me, and those filthy, nasty guys rammed their penises inside of me. I'm your sister, for God's sake."
"Look, Sissy." He looked so sad; there were tears under his bottom lids, making his eyes blurry. "They went overboard. They were supposed to slap you around and warn you to leave the case alone. They were never supposed to blindfold you, beat, or rape you."
"Well, maybe you didn't make it clear. And what about Susie? You paid to have her murdered."
"No, that was not my intention, either." He sat down in one of the rockers, bent forward with his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands. "All I did was deliver the money. I said, 'shoot Rodney.' I never said to shoot Susie. I told them to scare you, not to hurt you."
"So what do you think happened? Why did things get so out of whack?"
"Either they took it upon themselves to go to the extreme, or someone gave them alternative instructions."
"Why would you agree to be involved in something so horrible against your own sisters?" I stood in front of him with my hands on my hips.
"I thought it was what Dad wanted." His look was pleading.
"Daddy?"
"You don't know what I've been through with Dad, how he beat me until I left for college, then he berated me every time I came home. He's never let me forget that he paid for me to go to law school and that I owe him." James took a deep breath and sat back in his rocker as though something had just occurred to him for the first time. "I think I was willing to do anything I could to get his approval, to make him proud of me."
"You mean to make him love you, right?"
"Probably." He looked at me as though it was the first time he'd ever seen me. "Yes, you're probably right. And look where it got me."
"Can we agree to hate him?"
"I don't know, Sissy. I've always thought of him as the smartest, most successful, most educated man in the world. I've looked up to him, spent thirty-seven years trying to be just like him."
"I'm happy to say that you've failed miserably, James." I tried to let my anger wash away. I'd gone to James's house to beat him up emotionally for what he'd done, but now I actually felt sorry for him. "You'll never be like him. Thank God."
*
I drove to Baton Rouge after lunch the next day and went directly to the AG's office. Miss Millie actually seemed happy to see me and immediately called Robert to tell him I was in the reception area. He and Luke both came into the waiting room before I could open a magazine.
"Sissy!" Robert's big, hoarse voice was pitched an octave higher than usual. He hugged me, and Luke held the door open to the hallway. I followed Robert through the door and walked in front of Luke. He patted me on the back as I went by.
When we went by the opened door to Luke’s office, I glanced in and saw the sketch of me that the Jackson Square street artist had done the night we went to the French Quarters for dinner. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at Luke, who followed my stare to the framed rendering hanging on the wall over his desk. A chill went through me as though I’d seen a ghost, but Luke’s smile reassured me that the presence of that artwork was a sign of his love for me.
When we got to Robert’s office, we exchanged niceties about Brenda, Jessica, Bobby, Lilly, Susie, et al. Then the room got very quiet.
"Have a seat." Robert loosened his tie and s
at at the round table. I sat across from him, and Luke sat between us. "I have some news that will be pretty unpleasant for you."
"Is it something I don't know about? I mean, I thought finding out that James was involved in… well, you know." I took a deep breath and listened to my voice trail off into the abyss.
"Let's see. How can I explain this all to you?" Robert unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt and took a deep breath.
"It's about James, right?"
"Yes, and others." He tried to smile at me and looked at Luke as though he wanted to be bailed out of something.
"I know about James. He was arrested yesterday." Suddenly I felt a layer of dread, like wet fleece, cover my brain, and my heart began to beat so hard I thought it would come blowing out of my chest.
I told Robert I'd had hints all along but didn't put them together until Judge DeYoung told me that James had paid those goons to shut me up. I told him about seeing Thevenot and Rousseau at James's house, about Warren pulling in and out of my driveway several times, about seeing my Dad and James together and having a feeling they were hiding something from me.
I pulled the note out of my purse that had been on my windshield. I handed it to Robert.
"When did you get this?" He read the note and looked at me with alarm. "Stay out of this investigation or you'll end up like your sister!”
"Just after you went to Jean Ville and met with my Dad, James, Borders, DeYoung, and the others." I took a long slug of water.
Robert showed Luke the note.
"Why didn't you tell me about this? Where did you find it?" Luke was breathless and grabbed my hand, a little too tightly.
"It was on my windshield at the Capitol House Hotel."
"Who knew you were staying there?"
"My Dad knew because I charged the room to his credit card. I hadn't met you at that time, so I knew it wasn't you."
Luke and Robert exchanged looks that said they knew something I didn't know. I let it slip past me because I already had too much on my mind.
"I'll send the note to the crime lab to have the handwriting analyzed," Robert said.
"I don't think that's necessary. I know who wrote it." I took a deep breath. "I know his handwriting."
"Who?"
"James." I exhaled and realized I'd been holding my breath, trying to decide whether to rat James out.
"Oh, Sissy, I'm sorry." Robert stared at me, unblinking. The air in the room felt stale, like it was just sitting still, not circulating. We were silent for a long time, my mind wandering to the night I was raped. I had cold chills on my neck and felt the redness climb up to my cheeks.
"What others?" I sat on the edge of my seat as Robert began to speak to me, almost in a fatherly tone, with his eyes fixed on mine. I was afraid to blink or look away. "You said there were others, not just James."
"Sissy, we've wrapped up an investigation on corruption, assault, and a number of crimes against some folks in Toussaint Parish. Some of these people, well, you are fond of." He looked at Luke and back at me. I had the distinct feeling that Luke nodded at Robert to continue, but I didn't shift my eyes from Robert.
"James wouldn't have anything to do with corruption or criminal activity." I felt my eyes grow in size and knew immediately I shouldn't have said what I did. "James was the bagman for someone. What else did he do?"
His glare was fatherly and sympathetic and confirmed my worse suspicions.
"There are three cases. A number of the men are involved in all three, James was involved in two."
"I'm lost. What two or three cases. How many men?" My cheeks were red now, and I felt flushed all over.
"Seven men, including James. The others will be arrested for various levels of participation. Maybe I should tell you that one of the cases has to do with the shooting."
"Of Rodney?"
"Yes. James paid Tucker Thevenot and Keith Rousseau to kill Rodney and Susie."
"I know. I figured the Klan was behind the shooting, that they gave James the money to pass on."
I felt Luke's hand pat mine on the armrest. I went into a trance. All the air was sucked out of the room, and there was no sound: no one breathed, the fan didn't whirl, the air conditioning didn't hiss, horns didn't blow outside the window. It was as though all those soft noises stopped, as though life itself stopped. Robert's lips were moving, but I didn't hear a sound. Nothing. Nada.
Luke removed his hand from my arm. "Sissy, are you listening? Do you want to hear this in slow dribbles or should we tell you everything at once? Like pulling a Band-Aid off in one swipe?"
"There's more? More than my brother paying to have my sister killed and me beaten up to within an inch of my life?" I heard my voice rise and I tried to calm myself.
"It's about who hired James to pay people to commit crimes. And it's about a network of political corruption in Toussaint Parish that kept people like Thevenot and Rousseau from being arrested for horrible crimes, for decades." Robert searched my face to make sure I was listening and had not zoned out, so I nodded as though I followed him just fine.
I took a deep breath and thought about that: why Mr. Borders closed the case, why all the things Thevenot and Rousseau did to black people were never prosecuted.
"The CID has been investigating complaints of corrupt politicians in the parish for the past year, powerful men who have been covering up crimes against black people for years." Robert spoke slowly and looked directly in my eyes. "Crimes like the ones you heard about in court last week. For instance, when Thevenot and Rousseau chased black folks, lassoed them, pulled them behind that truck, brutalized young girls, shot people in the leg, burned down black people's houses—and there were lots of other crimes you didn't hear about, not only by Thevenot and Rousseau, but others, too.
"The evidence states that city or parish cops would show up at the scene of a crime, but the mayor, chief of police, sheriff, fire chief, and DA swept things under the rug. In most of the cases, no police reports were written, and in the few cases where they were, there was no investigation, and the cases were closed.
"That's what was supposed to happen with the shooting on June 30 of last year. Do you recall that there was no police report? And once the mayor was forced by the judge to produced one, the DA said he did an investigation and closed the case? That's how things have been handled for years, even before Sheriff Desiré was elected, who, by the way, I believe started out a good, honest man, but Sheriff Guidry had set things up, and Desiré had no choice but to go along with the system, or quit—in which case Guidry would step back in." Robert scratched the back of his neck and leaned back in his chair.
"Judge DeYoung signed warrants this morning to arrest six more men who have been behind a number of crimes in the parish for almost thirty years, including the shooting and your assault."
"It wasn't just James?"
"No, Sissy. This is much bigger than James."
"So are you going to arrest Mr. Borders for not prosecuting cases?"
"Yes, Borders is being arrested. And Red Wallace. And Pierre Desiré. And Winn Marchand. And Gerald Brazille."
I counted arrests in my head: Borders the DA, Wallace the mayor, Desiré the sheriff, Marchand the chief of police, Brazille the fire chief. That was five. Did Robert say six? I looked at Luke, who looked away as soon as our eyes met. I reached out and squeezed his hand, and he glanced at me, a sad, sad look on his face.
"Okay." I sat up straight in my chair, squared my shoulders, and looked at Robert. "I can count. There's one more. Who?"
"The ring leader of all three crimes: the shooting, your beating, and the political cover-up. The person who spearheaded the criminal activity and political corruption in the parish since the 1960s. The Grand Wizard of the Klan in Toussaint Parish." Robert looked at his watch, and I glanced at the clock on the wall behind his desk: 5:30 PM.
There was a bus-stop sort of pause, and everything I'd been hiding from myself, everything I'd de
nied, all the things I refused to hear from Susie or Marianne, or Tootsie or Luke, or anyone; all of those ideas, conversations, intuitions flooded into my brain.
"My Dad!" It wasn't a question. It was a statement of knowledge. I sat back in my chair and heard a whoosh, like water rushing over a dam. Neither Robert nor Luke confirmed my statement, and I didn't expect them to. We all sat back in our chairs and breathed sighs, and the air that had been sucked out of the room began to return, and the tick-tock of the clock started back up, and the wind whirled from the ceiling fan and rushed out of the air conditioning vents, and I heard air brakes on a diesel bus outside on Third Street.
Life started to flow again. The world moved. People went about their business. And although I'd just heard news that no one should ever hear, I knew that I, too, would learn to move forward and go about my business; that my life would flow again.
I looked at Luke and smiled. He squeezed my hand, and I felt I was already taking a step into the future. I didn’t have to go into a trance to feel sunshine on my face and hear the waves of the Gulf of Mexico rolling towards the hot sand. I was in my happy place.
<<<<>>>>
Acknowledgements
Thank you to:
My husband, Gene who read every chapter as it came off the printer, every time, before revisions, after revisions, and after more revisions.
Judge William Joseph “Billy” Bennett (my brother) who painstakingly went through the entire manuscript and gave me invaluable direction, instruction, and changes to the legal parts. Not only an awesome brother, but a dedicated judge, loving husband and devoted dad, step-dad, and grand dad.
For my sister, Sally, who reads my first drafts, as horrible as they are.
For my step-daughter, Anna Gay, who believes in me and brought me to Charlotte for signings, readings, book club meetings.
JT Hill, editor extraordinaire.
Lori Hill, web master extraordinaire.
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