by R. P. Wolff
“What happened?” asked Ryan Ward, the reporter.
The Sheriff was speechless—he didn’t know what to say. Should he tell them that there was a double homicide or keep them in the dark. Shit, he didn’t know what to do, but they kept staring at him. He figured that they would eventually find out, so he might as well tell them.
“Sheriff, what happened here?” Ryan asked again. “Are you okay?”
The Sheriff sighed. “It looks like two white men have been murdered inside, and the killer is on the loose.”
“What?” asked Goldstein.
“Yeah, and we’re looking for the killer, so I can’t be bothered. You’re interrupting a crime scene. You’re going to have to leave.”
“Who was killed?” asked Ryan.
“Look, I’m not going to tell you again. Get out of here. We have to find this killer.” The Sheriff turned and walked back to the warehouse’s entrance.
“Well, it’s clearly not my guys who are in jail,” said Goldstein.
The Sheriff stopped and turned around to face them again. “Don’t be so sure,” the Sheriff responded. “Deron escaped tonight, and he is a suspect again.” The Sheriff regretted saying this as soon as it left his mouth. He needed to consult with the Judge and Acton before making a statement like that. Now there was no turning back. He would have to argue that it was Deron that killed the two men and probably the other three men.
Goldstein, Ryan Ward, and Jake glanced at each other in puzzlement.
Goldstein spoke. “What? You got to be kidding. There’s no way that Deron escaped. He is no suspect.”
“I’m telling you. He’s missing.”
“How did he escape?” asked Goldstein.
“Look, I don’t got time to discuss this matter. If you want to help me, find Deron and bring him to the police station right away.”
Goldstein shook his head in bewilderment. “Okay, we’ll see if we can find him.”
“Be careful,” said the Sheriff. “He’s a fuckin’ killer.”
“So, you just arrived at the crime scene and already made this determination,” said Ryan.
“Well, it’s not that hard. He escapes and then two white guys end up dead.”
“When did he escape?” asked Ryan.
“Look, I’m done with y’all. I have to find the killer.”
Chapter 13
It was about five in the morning, and Deron was hiding in one of the Pastor’s second story bedrooms. While he and the Pastor sat in the darkness—they didn’t want anyone to see them—they peeked out the window. It didn’t seem like five in the morning because there was a lot of commotion—police cars, white men in pickup trucks, black men in pickup trucks, Negroes walking in the streets.
Deron figured that the cops would be looking for him. They were going to blame him for the murders just like they did his brother. It was going to be his word against the Sheriff’s. The Sheriff would never admit that he brought Deron to the warehouse and cuffed him to the table. How was he going to get out of this? Deron hated this town. He was sick of it. Here he was ready to die, and now they’re going to blame him for something he didn’t do. Who knows, they will also blame him for the other murders.
Deron had called his mom to let her know what happened and that he was at Pastor Bryant’s house. He asked her to try to get a hold of the lawyer.
“Roof, roof.” The dog started barking from downstairs.
“Oh, no.” Pastor Bryant said. “I think someone is in the backyard.” The Pastor grabbed his shotgun that was leaning against the wall, and whispered. “You wait here son. Hide in the closet.”
“No, I’m coming down with you.”
“No, stay up here.”
“No, sir, I’m coming down with you.”
“Okay, then be careful.”
When they reached the backdoor, they heard a soft knock.
Deron didn’t think it was the Klan or the cops because they would have pounded on the door or even just broke down the door.
The Pastor asked suspiciously, “Who’s there?”
“I’m sorry to bother you. I’m Howard Goldstein. I’m Deron Brooks’s attorney. I heard he might be here. Is he here?”
Deron nodded for the Pastor let Goldstein in.
Goldstein, who was by himself, came in.
Deron was so glad to see him because Goldstein would be the only person to help him with the legal system.
“Mr. Goldstein, thank you so much for coming.”
“Sure, no problem. Your mother told me you were here. What happened tonight?” asked Goldstein.
“It’s a long story,” said Deron. “The Sheriff brought me to the warehouse, cuffed me to the table, and then three—”
Goldstein interrupted. “He says that you escaped from jail.”
“What! No, I did not escape. I mean, I eventually escaped. Wait, let me just tell you what happened.” Deron was getting ready to tell the story but paused to say, “I can’t believe he told you that I escaped. Those assholes.”
“Okay, tell me what happened,” said Goldstein.
“Okay, he cuffs me to this table in a dark warehouse by the old ammunition plant. Three white guys come out.”
“Three? You sure it wasn’t two?”
“No, it was three. Three white guys come out, and they said that they were going to kill me because they think I killed the other three white guys. So I think I’m going to die. I’m preparing myself to die, and all of a sudden, someone from behind me in the warehouse shoots two of the guys but misses the other guy, at first. The shooter does hit the other guy on the way out, but it looked like he got him in the shoulder. He then chases after him for a short while, comes back in, shoots the other two guys again probably to make sure that they were dead. He gets the keys from one of the dead guys and gives them to me. I undo my cuffs, and I had leg cuffs on too.”
“They had you in leg cuffs too?” asked Goldstein.
“Yes.”
Goldstein nodded for Deron to continue.
“So, I got the hell out of there.”
“Wow, you’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.”
“I’m sorry you had to have this happen to you. This town is nuts. We’ve got to put an end to this madness. This town is horrible. It’s corrupt.”
“What should we do, Mr. Goldstein?” asked Deron.
“That’s a good question. Let me think about it.” Goldstein paused to ponder the situation. “They’re accusing you of escaping. They’re accusing you of being the killer. And what really happened was the cops kidnapped you, held you in that warehouse, and arranged it for you to be killed.”
“That’s right,” replied Deron.
“If we bring you to the police station, who knows what they will do to you. Needless to say, they will not treat you fairly. What I would like to do is that I heard that the FBI was supposed to be coming to town. Maybe we could go directly to the FBI.”
“Okay, do you think that would work?”
“Well, there’s a problem. They’ve told me that you’ve escaped even though I don’t believe them. So now that I found you, I might have a certain legal obligation to turn you in.”
“Wait a minute; I don’t want you turning me in. Come on man. You’re supposed to help me.”
“Just hang on a second. I’m just thinking out loud here. This is a complicated matter.” Goldstein paused. “So now that I found you, I kind of have an obligation. I know what I’m going to do. I am going to leave here. You guys continue to hide, and I will call them separately, or I will even go to the police station. In fact, that’s probably better. I’ll go to the police station because I want to get my other guys out of jail. I want to get your brothers and your dad out of there because clearly they didn’t do anything. The police have them locked up. I need to get them out of jail, and tell the cops that I know where you are. Because they tried to kill you, I’m holding you in protection until the FBI gets here. But they’re going to go ballistic. And they
may even threaten to put me in jail. Um, I’m just going to have to figure out what to do if I get to that point.”
Deron spoke. “Okay, should I just stay hidden here?”
“Yeah, and don’t tell anyone else that you’re here. You’ve told your mother, but I told your mother not to tell anyone else. Let’s keep this hush hush, and Deron you have to hide better. You’re sitting up there on the second floor. They’re going to be searching all over, so find a better place to hide.”
Deron remembered that he still had the gun in his pant pocket. He figured he needed to alert the Pastor and Mr. Goldstein about the gun. Deron slowly pulled out the gun and showed it, without pointing it at them. “Hey y’all, what should I do with this?”
Both Pastor Bryant and Goldstein looked at Deron in shock.
“Where did you get that?” asked Goldstein.
“I took it from one of the dead guys for my protection.”
“Damn, what should we do with the gun?” asked Pastor Bryant.
“This complicates matters,” responded Goldstein. “I have to think about this.” Goldstein paused. “If they find you here with the gun, they will use that against you. In fact, they’ll probably hang you on the spot.”
“Whoa,” said Deron.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Goldstein. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. It’s just that these guys are nuts down here.”
“Yeah, I know. You don’t have to tell me.”
Goldstein paused to consider the situation. “Look, you have enough protection here with the Pastor and his shotgun. Probably the best thing to do is to give me the gun, and I will turn it in when I think it is appropriate. Besides, who knows, I may need it for my own protection. I’m not exactly the most liked guy in town. I’m sure they would like to kill me too.”
“No, I want to keep it myself. I have to protect myself.”
Goldstein sighed heavily. “Okay, but make sure the police don’t find it on you.”
“All right, but how do we communicate with each other while you’re away?” asked Deron.
“That’s a good question,” replied Goldstein. “Pastor, why don’t you give me your phone number? Then, we also need a special code for when I come here, so you know it is me.”
The Pastor wrote down his phone number for Goldstein and handed it to him.
The Pastor spoke. “Why don’t you go to the back door, knock three times softly on the window, then four times, then five times, then repeat the three times and so forth.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Goldstein. “You hang in there until you hear from me.”
~~~~
As soon as the annoying threesome left the crime scene, the Sheriff instructed his men to search the town for an average-height man wandering the streets looking suspicious. “Question any Negro on this side of the tracks,” the Sheriff had ordered. “There shouldn’t be any Negro at this time of the morning on this side of the tracks.”
He instructed Officer Henderson to put up yellow police tape across the front and guard the crime scene. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again. He ordered him not to let anyone inside except for the local police and the coroner. Henderson stood outside the warehouse guarding the crime scene. The Sheriff also radioed in to have the coroner come out.
Meanwhile, Junior and the Sheriff went to work analyzing the crime scene. The Sheriff needed to do a better job than at the last crime scene. The Sheriff was numb. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience because the tragic events over the last two days were so unbelievable. The Klan was supposed to kill two niggers. Instead, five white guys were brutally murdered and another one shot. Oh, that reminded him that he needed to speak to Paulie some more to get some more details from him. This was not supposed to happen. Was the Klan losing its influence? Were niggers not afraid anymore?
“Dad, what do you want me to do?” asked Junior.
“We got to do a better job at this crime scene than we did at the other. We made a lot of mistakes.”
“Okay,” replied Junior.
The Sheriff couldn’t stop yawning. He had now been awake for more than twenty-four hours. “Okay, the first thing we’re going to do is to make sure we have an officer guarding the crime scene at all times,” said the Sheriff. “Second, we’re going to do a more thorough job of investigating this crime scene.”
“All right,” said Junior, “let’s analyze the situation.”
The Sheriff was so sleepy and not thinking straight that he thought he would delegate the initial analysis to his son. “Okay, Junior, what do you think happened here?”
Junior approached his dad and spoke quietly so no one could overhear them. “Okay, let’s start off with what we know. We know that you dropped off Deron. Did you handcuff him to the table?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Okay, and we know that our guys were hidden in the back, and they were supposed to wait about a half an hour for you to establish your alibi. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“So, based on what I see here, our guys came around and were probably facing Deron because of where their bodies are located. Now, what did Paulie say to you?”
“Paulie said that someone shot them from behind Deron. It was a guy. He couldn’t recognize him. He says he was about average height. The guy missed Paulie at first but got him on the way out the door.”
“Okay, this is good,” said Junior. “I mean, I shouldn’t say good, but it’s a start.” Junior paused. “Hey, what do you think happened to Deron?”
“I have no idea,” replied the Sheriff. “He must have gotten the keys somehow from the guys.”
Junior spoke. “Well, the keys are right there.” Junior pointed to the table. “But how could he have gotten the keys? They certainly wouldn’t have given it to him.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I had him locked down good. There was no way he could have gotten out without the keys. The keys are there. That’s how he got out.”
“Well, the shooter must have given him the keys,” said Junior. “It’s got to be a nigger. Why would a white guy help him out?”
“That’s true, Junior, but we really don’t know if it is a nigger or a white guy. Who knows, maybe it could be that Goldstein character.”
“Yeah, Dad, it could be anyone.” Junior paused. “So Deron’s gone. What do you think happened to him? I mean, I don’t think he’s dead. I don’t see any blood by his seat, and plus the keys are by the cuffs.”
“He’s probably hiding in his neighborhood, or maybe he went to some different town. I don’t know.”
“We’ve got to find Deron before someone else finds him,” said Junior.
“Yeah, we got to find Deron. We also need to call the Judge and the rest of the boys as soon as we get back. We need to strategize with them. I already told the state trooper and the others that Deron escaped.”
“What!” Junior said. “Why did you say that?”
“Hey, watch your tone, Son. I didn’t know what else to say. We have to blame someone.”
“How are we going to say he escaped?” asked Junior.
“I don’t know. We’ll have to figure out something soon, but first I want to keep investigating this crime scene.”
“We need to check to see if there are any footprints over back here somewhere.” Junior pointed back towards the racks and started walking that way with his dad following.
“Okay, let’s check it out,” replied the Sheriff.
They walked back and started inspecting the area by the racks. After a few moments, the Sheriff yelled. “Here, I found a gun shell.” The Sheriff held up a gun shell.
“Okay, let me see if we can find any others,” said Junior.
Junior eventually found three more gun shells and handed them over to the Sheriff.
“Shit,” the Sheriff said. “I just remembered that we are walking all over the place, and our footprints are probably ruining the shooter’s footprints. Hurry, take off your shoes.”
Th
ey both took off their shoes and inspected the area by the gun shells. The Sheriff noticed that the polished cement was very dusty, which could leave a footprint. He continued to inspect the area and then noticed what he thought was a decent looking print. He shined his light on the area. “Son, look here, in the dust. There are some good footprints. The shooter must have been standing here in this spot. We need to seal this specific area off. Go get some tape from Henderson outside.”
Junior and the Sheriff continued to investigate the crime scene. They finally left when the coroner showed up to take the bodies away. As part of their investigation, Junior took numerous crime scene photographs.
The Sheriff wondered who could have killed the Sawyer boys and Lucky and his crew. He realized that it couldn’t have been the guys locked up and probably not Deron. There had to be another shooter that wasn’t part of Leon’s immediate family. It had to be another Negro. It couldn’t be a white guy. Or could it be?
~~~~
The Sheriff parked his squad car in the back of the police station at about half past five in the morning. He and Junior got out and entered the police station from the back entrance. Officer Finley, who was manning the police station, radioed the Sheriff that Goldstein was there demanding that his clients be released. Goldstein was there along with the state trooper and the reporter.
The Sheriff did not want to speak to them again until he had chance to run it by the Judge. He slid into the back and up to his office, and Junior joined him. He called the Judge at his Dodge County residence and hoped that he would answer at this early morning hour. After about ten rings, the Judge answered sounding groggy. “Hello.”
“Judge, this is Jefferson. We got a major problem.”
“What’s that?”
The Sheriff sighed. “Well, two of the Sawyer boys have been killed.”
“What! You have to be kidding. What the hell has happened?”
“Okay, Cueball and Stevie are dead. Paulie got away but got shot. He’s in the hospital but should make it. He was just shot in the shoulder. We’ve got to check with him.”
“What happened? What happened to our plan? Fill me in.”
