by Sandy McKee
“I hear he spent some time in prison,” I queried.
“Yes, nearly five years. I’m not sure those years didn’t make him worse off. He fell in with a group of neo-nazi white supremacists there. Despite his sweet looks and manner, he harbors a lot of hatred toward minorities.”
“Do you think he still has ties with them?” I asked, suddenly thinking that Van might be responsible for the hate crimes or know who was responsible.
“He claims that he doesn’t, but he’s very good at stretching the truth. Dana, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep my meeting with Van to yourself. I would really like to help him straighten his life out.”
“No problem,” I assured her. “Mom has probably forgotten it already.”
Mom and I went out for a late breakfast after church and stopped by the cemetery to tend to the flowers on Dad’s and my grandparents’ graves. I noticed that Mom was crying as she stood by Dad’s grave. “I miss that man so much. He could make me crazy at times, but we had a great run. Where do you think he is right now?”
“Oh I think there’s a heaven for sure. Both he and Jake are there and so are your parents. I think it’s beautiful there and people are all healthy and young. Billy Graham said we’d drive down streets of gold in a yellow Cadillac convertible. Wouldn’t Dad love that! You’ll see him again, Mom. I just hope that it’s not too soon.”
She smiled at me, nodding. “Thanks,” she whispered. “Your daddy loved you so much and was so proud of you. There was only that one thing that ever disappointed him.”
“I know, I know.” I nodded and helped her into the car.
When we got home, Mom was ready for her nap and Toby insisted on a walk. By the time we got back I was ready for a nap too, but decided I needed to get started on my opinion piece. Better to be a little cranky when you’re trying to get a reaction from people.
I pulled out my laptop and just began writing anything that came into my head about the past week’s events. Who was my audience?---anyone who had any involvement with the violence or knew who might have done it. What was my objective?---to stir things up and get some information. After several attempts and a lot of deleting, I had mycopy ready to set aside for later review. I wasn’t completely satisfied, but felt that I was headed in the right direction. Out of laziness, I finally decided that the draft would do the job.
To Whom It May Concern:
I have recently returned to Solitude after living out of state for many years. I have always loved this area with its natural beauty and warm and kind people. The influx of Amish has resulted in economic growth as well as good and decent hard working community members. I am outraged at the recent violence that has been aimed at the Amish community, and hope that others will join me in bringing the guilty individuals to justice.
I have studied and taught history for nearly twenty years and truly believe that we can learn a lot from our past. The one thing that I am sure of is that those who commit crimes against religious minorities and especially women are among the vilest and most evil individuals. They are usually uneducated and stupid when it comes to almost anything but guns. They are usually white trash big losers who can’t hold a decent job and can’t even perform sexually(unless its with kids or other men). They know that they are losers, but they try to cover it by committing violent acts. These people are usually male and are so afraid of anyone who is in any way different from themselves. Their heroes are people like Adoph Hitler and Joseph Stalin. They will eventually burn in hell for their sins, but they need to pay for their crimes here on earth too. These leeches and vermin of our society will be brought to justice. I just hope that it’s soon. Anyone who knows anything about the shooting and other violence need to report it to the state police as soon as possible. Those who know something and do nothing are almost as bad as those who commit the acts. Let’s put an end to this, Now!
Sincerely,
Dana Blades, Ph.D.
Maybe it’s a little over the top, I mused, but if brings some witnesses or angry perps forward, it will be worth it. I addressed the envelope and decided to take a stroll with Toby to the mailbox in front of the Post Office before I lost my nerve. As we walked along the tree lined streets of Solitude, I noticed how the days were getting shorter and the weather cooler. I reminded myself that my Florida wardrobe would not serve me well for the upcoming Pennsylvania winter.
“Hey, Dana,” I heard a male voice call. I looked up and saw Van White walking towards us.
“Hi, Van. Seems like I can’t get away from you. How are you?”
“Pretty good. That’s a cute dog. What’s his name?”
“Toby. He’s from Greece. I found him while visiting there and had to bring him home with me.”
“Couldn’t you find a homeless dog in this country?” asked Van. “I guess it’s not politically correct to go out and get a purebred any more.”
I ignored his comment and decided to be direct. “So, Van. What’s your take on all this business going on with the Amish? I’d love to find out who’s causing all this trouble.”
“Beats me” he answered, almost too quickly. “Someone seems to have a real grudge against them people. You’d be smart to watch your back. Whoever it is most likely won’t like any Amish lovers either. I don’t suppose you professor types believe in guns or fighting back.”
“Oh, I can fight back just fine if need be, Van. Why do people assume if you’re educated and a liberal Democrat that you don’t like guns? I was on a skeet shooting team in Florida.”
“Now, don’t get riled, Dana. I didn’t mean anything. I’m sure you can take care of yourself. You just don’t want to cross some folks in this area. There are some nasty dudes out there.”
“I heard a rumor that you might have some ties with one of the militia groups. Any truth to that?”
“Sounds like you’ve been talking to cousin Violet. Well, that’s old history. I’m trying my best to distance myself from my old life. I got views that I don’t imagine you agree with, but I sure as heck won’t be doing anything that will land me back in jail.”
“Good for you, Van. Any chance you’d let me pick your brain about how those groups work? I’ll spring for a lunch.”
“Let me think about it, Dana. Neither one of us need to piss off those guys. You might want to take a ride up to Hungry Ridge and talk to some of your old classmates if you’re so determined to be an investigator.”
Toby was tugging at his leash to move on. I smiled and headed home wondering how much of what Van White had to say was to be believed. I remembered that Hungry Ridge was an area in the hills well off the beaten path where some of the poorest people in the area lived. When I was in school, the kids usually smelled like they hadn’t bathed in days and wore dirty clothes. They were the students who missed a lot of school and didn’t seem to graduate. I could recall that some went into the military, but I had no idea what had happened to most of them. My dad usually complained that they were “reliefers” who sponged off the government. I once rode back through the area with Dad on a hunting trip. The houses were little more than shacks, and there were old junked cars parked all over the place. We were never wealthy but, even at a young age, I realized that my life in Solitude was miles away and many dollar signs from life on Hungry Ridge. I wasn’t sure if anyone would remember me if I paid a visit, but I decided to make a trip there soon.
Chapter 8
Monday
Monday morning, the day of the funeral, was cool and dreary. I dug out my all purpose black dress and headed out to the Slaughbach farm where the service was to be held. As far as I knew, the Amish did not embalm and often had the service within three days after a death. I wasn’t sure what to expect.
The line of horse drawn buggies clopping along was so long that I didn’t even try to pass. I just shifted into first gear and followed. I could see that there was a state police car with flashing lights escorting the procession.
When I finally got to the farm house, I parked near the barn and headed towards th
e house. I noticed a few state policemen and some other “English” in the sea of black cloaked Amish. I searched for a familiar face and saw Fannie. I gave her a hug and asked her how she was holding up. “Pretty well. I would like to have a talk with you soon. Do you think you could stop by tomorrow?”
“Of course. I’ll bring some more of those scones,” I smiled.
Just then I spotted my mother’s friend, Helen, who was waving at me. She grabbed my arm and said that she was there to represent the family and business. “This is just too dreadful. The poor family. We sent a lot of food out for serving after the service. We wanted to do something. I hear that donations are coming in from all over. The Amish don’t really like to accept outside help, but what can they do?”
The service soon started. It was in German, so it was difficult to tell exactly what was going on. The few German courses I’d taken and the semester I’d spent in Cologne helped me sort out a bit of the message. There were two ministers in charge. They took turns reading from the Bible, a hymnal and a prayer book. They seemed to be saying that we needed to think about helping the living survive this sad event and that we needed to find in our heart ways to forgive the person or persons who murdered her.
The casket was a plain pine box made by one of the men in the community. It was lined with a plain blue cloth. Constance was dressed in all white. Someone told me that Amish women often wear the white apron from their wedding day for their funeral. It saddened me that Constance would never see her wedding day. The Amish do not have flowers at the funeral, but there were several kerosene lanterns set around inside the house.
Following the service, the casket was carried by several men to the nearby cemetery. More words were spoken in German, then everyone recited the Lord’s Prayer. I was relieved to see that the grave was already dug. I had read that in some Amish communities, the graves were dug with the bare hands of the mourners. Constance’s family did throw dirt on top of the lowered casket and began what would be a year of mourning.
Everyone was invited to stay for a meal following the service. The aromas wafting from the farmhouse were inviting. Helen grabbed my arm, and we headed toward the house.
“I have no idea what they were saying, but I’m sure it was very nice,” smiled Helen.
As we walked with the crowd towards the house, it was clear that just about everyone knew Helen. “Is there anyone you don’t know?” I joked.
“Oh sure. I used to help out at the grocery store, and most everyone passes through there eventually. Although there are a lot of Amish from out of the area here, too.”
“Who are all the non Amish folks here?” I asked.
“Oh, close neighbors and people who drive the Amish to doctor’s appointments and on other trips. They make a nice living driving their vans filled with Amish travelers. Those horses and buggies are just too slow for getting to a lot of places.”
We filled our plates with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, cole slaw and homemade cornbread and sat down at one of the large oak plank tables.
“My heart just breaks for the family,” sighed Helen. “I hear that Constance was her daddy’s favorite. Folks say he is really broken up over this. I can only imagine how painful this is. No one should have to bury their children.”
I nodded. “It sounds like Constance was a wonderful girl. She helped her sister with her children, taught school, worked at the cheese shop and was a joy to her family. When I was sixteen, all I cared about was getting a driver’s license, boyfriend and good grades. I just hope the police can find who did it before someone else is hurt. Have you heard anything?”
“Just that the police are working overtime and bringing in extra help. They want this solved too. Someone must know something. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s someone local.”
“Really? What makes you say that?”
“There are just some mean and hateful people around here. I guess that’s true everywhere. Some times the nastiest people who come into the store are ones with food stamps and on relief. They act like the world owes them a living. Then there are those who are so full of hate towards blacks, Jews, gays and Amish.”
“Who should I talk to if I wanted to get some inside information on what really goes on around here?”
“Oh, Dana. Your mother said you’d be snooping around playing detective. I guess we’re kindred spirits. I’m kind of nebbish myself. You know who’d be good. Ron Fox, remember him? He drove school bus when you were a kid. He drives the Amish around now days. The Amish are much more likely to talk to him than the police. They just don’t trust outsiders too much.”
After the meal, people were milling around talking quietly. I worked my way over to where Ron Fox was smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. “I hope that’s tobacco you’re smoking there, Mr. Fox.”
At first, he glared at me, then he broke into a broad smile. “Dana! I heard you were back in town. It’s been a long time. I remember you back when you were that chubby kid with curly hair and glasses on my bus. You always liked to keep the other kids in line. I appreciated that.”
I didn’t recall doing that, but nodded. “You look good, Ron. I hear you’re still driving folks around.”
“It gives me something to do. Since my wife passed and the kids moved away, I have a lot of time on my hands.”
“Got any idea who’s behind all the trouble?”
“Oh there’s plenty of talk, but no hard evidence. I know some group out of Pittsburgh wanted to buy Jacob Slaughbach out. I heard it was the Brison Group. They’re pretty big in our state. Jacob’s got prime property, close the Cheese Shop, winery and craft stores, and they want to build a big hotel and resort here. They’ve offered him a ton of money, but Jacob’s not interested. I hear they were pressuring him a bit, but I can’t imagine murder. Some folks have made a ton of money from tourism around here, and I guess greed knows no bounds.”
“You’re right about that. I hope he’s told the police. Anything else you’ve heard?”
“Why are you so interested in this, Dana? I heard you were some kind of professor down in Florida.”
“Oh, I just like to get to the truth. That’s what historians do, too. Besides I love this town and still have some friends in the Amish community.”
“O.K., I hear you. I remember your dad always liked to set things right, too. Jacob and his family are just such good people. They’d help anyone out. I can’t imagine who could have a grudge against them, especially young Constance. That girl was a sweetheart. Her students loved her and she was the apple of her daddy’s eye.”
“I’ve heard that, too. Do you think killing her might have been random? Just because she was alone at the school and no one would see what was happening?”
“Could be. I can’t think of any specific Amish that anyone would target for murder. Some folks have been disappointed when they’ve hired Amish to do roofing and carpenter work. Some of their work is a little rough, but I can’t imagine they’d be mad enough to hurt anyone.”
“I appreciate your time, Ron. I know you want this all settled as much as anyone.”
When I got back to Helen, she was expressing her sympathy to Constance’s father, Joseph. Helen introduced me to Joseph and told him that I was trying to help the police find out who had murdered his daughter. He gave me a sad nod and was about to turn away, when I call out, “Mr. Slaughbach, if I could just have a moment of your time. I can’t imagine how painful this is for you and your family. I just have a couple questions, if you don’t mind.
Slowly Joseph Slaughbach sat back down at the table. “I know we have to forgive the person who did this, but I’m having such a hard time with that. What do you want to know? The police have been here so much. I don’t think there’s much they haven’t covered.”
When I asked him if he or anyone in his family had any enemies, he shook his head. He also said that he had gone over and over events in his mind, and could not come up with a reason why anyone would hurt his daughter. “Everybody loved
Constance. She was so good and kind to everyone. Maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
I thanked him for his time and spoke briefly with a few others then headed home. The skies had cleared and I put the top down on my Miata. It felt good to have the sun on my face and a breeze blowing through my hair. It was just so good to be alive and so unfair to think of a young life being lost in such a senseless and violent manner.
When I got home, I looked up a number for the Brison Group in Pittsburgh. I called and crossed my fingers (to save me from the sin of lying) and said that I had some land to sell in the Solitude area and wanted to speak to someone working on projects in that area. After being put on hold for several minutes, the robotic voice told me that there were no immediate plans for development in that area due to the declining economy, but that I could leave a number for them to call if the situation changes. I made a note to visit their headquarters soon and see what was really going on with their development plans. If they weren’t responsible for the violence, maybe it was scaring them off?
I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house and cooking some meals that would see us through the week. Mom wanted to hear about the funeral, so we went out and sat by the pond while Toby swam and tried to catch some of the blue gill that swam lazily near the surface.
Chapter 9
Tuesday
I was up early the next morning and looked forward to meeting with Fannie. I picked up some blueberry scones and fresh coffee and was at Fannie’s home by 9:30 am, knowing that she had likely been up for hours. As I knocked on the door the aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls welcomed me.
“I thought I’d provide the food today,” announced Fannie.
She looked tired and anxious, and I hoped that her health was okay. “They smell wonderful. I’ll leave the scones for later. How are you holding up?”
“Oh, Dana. This is so hard on all of us and I don’t suppose you’ve heard the latest. After the funeral, Eli and John decided to pull the boat down to the dam to do a little fishing and get their minds off things. They tied the horse up in the trees and when they got back, someone had shot the horse between the eyes and set fire to the buggy. It was awful. We’re sick about it. It was a good horse and they cost a lot of money. They had to walk home and didn’t get back until very late. I was so worried.”
