The Fourth of July

by Erica Hale

  Nadine and I were the only women in the meeting. There were four other men, all dressed for the holiday with red, white and blue shirt. Jean short and Stacey Adams sandals. “This is my friend Lauren that I was telling you all about,” Nadine introduced. “She works at the paper just like I did. Like the rest of us, she’s felt the unwelcoming hand Planters.”

  None of them spoke. They all just stared at me like a suspect. What looked to be the youngest male in the crowd stood up.

  “Hello, Lauren. I am Pastor Williams here at First Bethel. Any and all conversations here are private.” I nodded. “So let’s not parlay, what do you know about the White Collar?”

  “Um, the who?”

  All eyes left me and landed on Nadine.

  “If she doesn’t even know who they are, what in the world is she doing here?” one of the men said who could use a bigger Old Navy flag shirt. He was one baked bean away from busting out it. “I thought you said that she knows what’s going on.”

  “Hey!” Nadine shouted. “She may not know what they are, but she knows for sure who they are.” Nadine put a loving hand on my shoulder. “Tell them about your experience here in Planters.”

  “My first day here my tires were slashed. I was threatened with arrest that same night. My son spent the night in jail. My house has been broken into.” I left out the part about it bugged. I needed to know what these guys knew. “What is the White Collar?”

  Another guy, tall and thin, leaned back in his folding chair spoke, “Imagine the Klan with all their teeth and with a business license.”

  Now I was truly confused on what I was doing here.

  Nadine turned to me.

  “White Collar is a white supremacy group. No one knows how long they’ve been an established group or even their numbers. We just know that they are here in Planters, ready to kill for what they want.”

  I cleared my throat. “And what exactly do they want?”

  Pastor Williams rocked backed on the legs of his chair. “To wipe out every minority in this town. Then the next town, the state, you see where I’m going with this, don’t you?” I nodded. “Let me give you a little history lesson about Planters. Just like every other state in the south, it was slave driven. Some of the slaves about--” He winked one eye in thought. “About four years before the abolishment of slavery, they rebelled. Right on the Jefferson Planters plantation. No violence, no gun fights. All the slaves up and left in the middle of the night. Landing right here where we stand.”

  I looked around and noticed for the first time the pictures and drawings on the wall. There were news articles of the slaves moving around in the middle of the night, never to be found. “A band of free slaves and some abolitionist created this safe haven for all ninety-seven runaway slaves.”

  “So, this was a part of the underground railroad?” I asked.

  Everyone in the room smiled.

  “Yes and no,” Pastor Williams answered. “Planter’s older more kind hearted brother lived here and setup the town. He kept those slaves safe. Some for a few days, other for months. One by one, all the slaves were hustled to the north. Not one soul was caught. My fourth great grandfather was a teenager at the time. He made his way to freedom and risked his life to come back to save more.”

  My mouth was still on the floor. “That is amazing.”

  “That is the history of this church.” Pastor Williams’ face twisted in internal pain. “This also makes this church a hot target for the White Collar. Do you know how many death threats I get a day?”

  The tall and thin man huffed. “Remember last summer? How you had to get Angela and your boys out of the state.”

  “They knew where my sons went to school. Threaten to string them up. Told me every time that I left my wife alone that some man would…. hurt her.”

  “Then why? Why do it? Just leave.” I asked.

  “Why don’t you just leave?” Williams asked in a soft voice. “Nadine told us you were a fighter, wanted to change things around here in Planters.”

  “She’s right, but...”

  “But, what? I can’t just leave and let them win. Take over this town and make it look like 1817 and not 2017. I have a responsibility to the community here in Planters. If I turn tail, others will follow suit and take off too. Excuse my language in the house of God, but I’ll be damned if I run. We stand and we fight back.”

  Everyone grunted in agreement.

  “So, what else do you know?” I asked.

  “For one,” Tall and lanky said. “The whole police department is full of them. My nephew has been pulled over at least fourteen times this year for nonexistent infractions. Now he has to get up at least two and half hours early to take the bus.”

  The guy with the too small shirt spoke next.

  “You think that’s bad? Right now, the county shelled almost a million dollars for the new high school. The whites took it to a judge to segregate the county. So our black students have to go to a school with no central heating, no air condition and out dated books. And I will be the first to tell you that this school doesn’t have a million dollars to spend. They got the money with the intention to separate the races.”

  My stomach was beginning to turn at circle of racism in the town. We fought for equality, I thought we got it. Only for it to be taken away from us once again.

  “Okay, so what is the end game here? With all the testimony we have here, what are we going to do with it?” I asked, looking at each person in the eye.

  “We want to sue the state,” Williams proclaimed. “Like you said, we have evidence of everything that is going on here. We take them to court. Yes, the death threats will never stop on the church and my family, but if we let one high school get away with this, the rest of the district will do the same. We sue the school superintendent and the board for even letting this be present in front of a judge. It is our basic civil rights to have an equal education.”

  “Plus, we can’t forget the economics here,” said tight shirt. “You know how hard it is to get a job here? My son graduated from Georgia Tech and no one in this town will give him a job.”

  Nadine smirked.

  “Unless he’s bagging groceries or something.”

  Everyone nodded.

  “My boy had to scrap enough cash to get him some little apartment to work out in Atlanta. Can’t get nothing out here unless you are working in some landscaping and--”

  “And the Mexicans are taking those jobs.” Williams added. “We can’t move ahead without the funds to take our town back, or at least live in harmony.”

  “Lauren here lives out on Lewis, and they are doing everything they can to get here out of that neighborhood,” Nadine said, and the rest of the men eyes went wide. “Like she said, slashed tires, her home where her and her son live has been burglarized. She isn’t safe there.”

  Tall and thin huffed, “Surprised they let you put your toes on Lewis Avenue without one of them being shot off. Lewis and the four streets that run across it have been white since I was a kid. Growing up, the cops would run us out there.”

  I couldn’t help but think of the fight that Anthony got into the first day that we stepped foot here in Planters. I would never forget the look on everyone’s face when they saw that I was his mom.

  At that point, I wanted to tell the members of this group that in the next hour I would be on the road, high tailing it out of here. I wanted to explain that this place was one big powder keg and it wouldn’t take long for someone to strike a match to this place.

  “You sue the board, then what? You need drastic and real changes here. The best course of action is to start with your own businesses. Draw money back into the community. GoFundMe if you have to. This side of Planters has become an island and there are no resources that you all are going to be able to draw from. Come together, work together and move your side of the island forward.”

  The group looked at me as if I was speaking French.

  “Young lady, all of what you have
said is easier said than done,” Williams said. “How can I say this….you are an outsider--”

  “An outsider? Really?” I was trying to keep my voice and temper down. “I’m just as black as you are, sir. And, I’m just as much as a target. You have no right to say that to me. I know that you’ve all been living here all of your lives, but I’ve been here a little over two weeks and it’s been pure hell for me and my son.”

  I hadn’t even noticed that I was standing until Nadine touched my hand.

  “Lauren, just calm down a bit,” she whispered.

  I shook my head. “How are we as a people going to come together but we are standing around in a pissing match. I came here to brainstorm to get this element out of this town, not to play whose blacker.”

  I snatched my purse of the back of the chair and started for the door.

  “Lauren, don’t do this. I’m sure Pastor Williams didn’t mean it that way that it came out.”

  Williams crossed his arms over his chest and gave me a blank stare.

  “Good luck,” I said, reaching for the doorknob.

  Before I could turn it, the staircase that was behind the door rumbled. There was someone approaching. I took a step back and every man that was behind me stood to their feet. This is what the Freedom Riders must have felt like when the sense of danger approached.

  The door flew open. A young man in khaki shorts and Polo shirt stepped into the room out of breath.

  “Pastor, we have a situation going on in the carnival. I think there is going to be a fight.”

  All I knew how to do was to run up the stairs.

  “Lauren!” Nadine yelled at my back.

  “My son is up there.”

  My purse slapped at my waist while I ran through the sea of bodies. Some people were screaming that someone had a gun. I remember being pulled back by I guess what was a concerned churchgoer for me to go the opposite way.

  Pulling away, I continued to run with a panicked urgency. I scanned the rushing crowd. Then I saw his blonde head sticking out the crowd.

  “Anthony!”

  I knew that he couldn’t hear me over the yelling and roar of stomping feet that surrounded us.

  Pushing through to a clearing, there my son stood with his arms stretched out.

  I collided into his side.

  “Anthony.”

  He was stone still, staring straight ahead. I followed his eyes to what he was fixated on. The neighbor’s kid, the one that tried to turn him against me, the one that had caused so much unrest in my home. The one that had a double barrel shot gun pointed at the both of us.

  You see different types of people when you work as a courtroom journalist. There were times that you couldn’t decipher who was a sinner or a saint. But the individual that stood before us was something else. He was a madman trapped and scratching to get out of a child’s body.

  “I just want to make him proud. You guys just don’t understand.”

  The kid was whimpering holding the gun. Hundreds of scenarios were running around in me. Running at this close of a distance, and even if the kid wasn’t a good shooter, one of us wouldn’t get out of the way fast enough.

  “Anthony, you need to run,” I told my son. “You need to get behind me and take off,” I said into my son’s sweat drenched shirt. “Just go.”

  “I’m not leaving you here. This is my fault.”

  I didn’t have a reply, and even before I could think of one, my son and I were jerked to the ground. All I saw was work boots step over us.

  “Ernest, put the damn gun down. Kid, you don’t want to screw up your life more than you already have. Give me the gun.”

  Leland had both of us hands in front of him, slow walking towards the kid.

  I had crawled over Anthony. I was trying to shield his body the best way that I could.

  “Keep your head down,” I said in his ear. “Don’t look up for anything, you got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He tucked himself in a ball and covered his head with his arms.

  Ernest’s tired arms let the shotgun fall to his side.

  “You don’t get it, do you? I’m trying to do everything that he wants me to do. He wanted them dead and that’s what I have to do…for him.”

  I could only see the back of Leland’s dirty Atlanta Braves hat go back in forth. “No, you don’t have to do this. You’re better than your old man, and deep down, you see it to.”

  Plain clothes police started to close in around us. A black woman around my height had her gun on the kid. Another black guy and some white guy were pulling up on the side of the kid. “Listen, you put that gun down and you and I can get you the help that you need. We can walk away from this. You and me. You just have to listen to me.”

  Ernest’s eyes went to the white guy that was inching closer to him.

  “Hey!” Leland shouted. “Don’t worry about them. You look at me, keep your eyes on me.”

  “I just wanted to make him proud,” he sobbed.

  “I know you did. But this--” Leland looked around. “This isn’t how you do things. Your daddy was a weak man, he picked on you because he could. Be better than him, be the better man, Ernest. Just let me help you.”

  The wheels began to turn in the young man’s head. “He just wouldn’t let it go.” He stared off into space. “He kept telling me I wasn’t shit. Saying that everyone was so much better than me. I was worthless.”

  “But you’re not, son,” Leland said, creeping close to him.

  Wiping tears from his face, he said, “I didn’t want to kill him, I swear. I just got so mad, you know? Just got so pissed off for him talking to me like that. The gun was on the coffee table and the next thing I know…”

  Leland was only a few feet away from him. “You were angry and you had every right to be. Let’s you and me get out of here, okay? Just you and me. Will go and talk without all these people around, what do you say?”

  The boy’s head rose and gave Leland a fanged smile. “You were always nice to me. Always getting my dad’s attention so he would stop hitting me. I know that it won’t be enough in saying thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now just--”

  Ernest flipped the gun up like an old gun slinger and had the barrel under his chin. I closed my eyes and buried my face into Anthony’s shoulder. I didn’t have to see it, didn’t have to witness it. The sound of the gun going through the kid’s skull and Leland’s scream.

  ★★★★★★★★★★

  A pimple faced deputy hitched at his belt and wiped his nose. “So, you are saying that you knew the gunman?”

  He knew as well as I did that I did. There was a quick moment of recognition between us. He was sitting there trying to ignore me last week when he had my son in custody.

  Officer Moore had his pen posed on his notepad.

  “Yes, he was my neighbor,” I said.

  Officer Moore nodded and wrote. “Did you have any idea that he would do something like this? Do you know if he had an accomplice?”

  If my hands weren’t so tired. If my mind could stop replaying the death of a teenage boy, I would have punched him in the throat. “If I would have known, I would have tried to stop it. And I wouldn’t have any idea if he had an accomplice or not.”

  My thought went back to his father. The way that he looked at me, the way that there was something sinister that hide behind his smile.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Leland speaking to the three plain clothed officers. His posture was relaxed, confident even. The other white male stood next to him, and from this distance, they looked like twins. Leland’s hair was longer, whereas the other guy’s hair was in a sharp, preppy cut.

  The officer tapped his pen to his lips as if trying to think of something else stupid to ask me. “Are you going to be around for more questioning?”

  I held back on the urge to roll my eyes.

  “I won’t leave town,” I said, knowing good and damn well that I was going to be o
ut of this shit hole in a second. “Have a good day, Officer," I said, waving him off.

  “Mom? Are you okay?” Anthony asked me.

  He looked so weary in his eyes. His shoulders rolled forward.

  I wanted to say that I was never going to be the same. That everything that we have experienced had changed me and not for the better.

  “I’m good. Come on.” I pulled at him so he couldn’t see Ernest’s body behind us. “I don’t want you to try and unsee something. Let’s get going.”

  “Ms. Lauren.”

  Leland stepped in front of us.

  “May I have a word with your mom?”

  Anthony looked down at me and I nodded.

  Leland watched my son walk to our parked car.

  “I just--”

  “Don’t. Look, thank you for getting us out of harm’s way like that. It was brave. And yes, he and I are going to get on the freeway now.” I put my hand out for him to shake it. “Thank you, Mr. Leland, for everything.”

  He looked down at my hand and took half a step back. He dug in his back pocket. “Things, as you can tell, have been a bit crazy. Take this card.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “A buddy of mine runs a moving service. He’s at your house right now packing you up. You give him a call and he will put it on a truck and send everything to you.” I opened my mouth. “No, I won’t tell you how much it is so you can pay me back. Take it more like a gift.”

  “A gift? For what?” I asked, tucking the card in my purse.

  “I guess more like an apology. You didn’t deserve any of this. I’m sorry Ms. Lauren; a woman like you should be in a castle somewhere having men feeding you grapes or something, not having to deal with the shit that Planters gave you.”

  Both of us stood there while the police were milling around us. Church volunteers began to disassemble the games and rides.

  “Again, thank you for all you’ve done.”

  Pinching the bill of his cap, he returned, “Not a problem, ma’am. But before I forget,” Leland put his hand out of the front of his jeans and yanked out a flash drive. “Now you take this and you make good use of it. Get back to Washington as soon as you can. Everything on that will turn a lot thing around for you.”