Swift Justice: The Southern Way

by R. P. Wolff

  “Wait a minute,” the Sheriff interjected, “it’s only been two days. The investigation has only started.”

  “All right, Sheriff,” said the Judge. “You got a point.” The Judge paused and looked over at Junior. “Junior, you are one, sneaky son of a bitch. That is pretty impressive. You’re going to move up the ranks with that idea.”

  “Thank you, Judge,” said Junior.

  “That took some balls to come up with that idea,” said the Judge. “Okay, Junior, since you came up with the great idea, I want you to handle it. Do you think you can handle it?”

  “Yeah, it shouldn’t be any problem. All I have to do is get some gasoline and some matches. When should I do it?”

  “That’s a good question,” said the Judge. “What do you guys think?”

  Acton spoke. “Normally, I would say wait until it dark, but I don’t think we have that luxury today. We need to get it done shortly after the FBI arrives, so they will be immediately distracted and hopefully achieve our goal of going after the damn niggers.”

  “Okay, Junior, kind of hang around the police station and pick your spot,” said the Judge. “You make the call, but make sure no one sees you. Also, don’t tell a soul about our plan. Everyone must think that the niggers started the fire. The more I think about this, the more I like the plan. This is brilliant. Also, Junior, you go ahead and release the prisoners.”

  “What do I tell them about Deron?” asked Junior.

  “Don’t tell them anything,” said the Judge.

  “What do you mean don’t tell them anything? I got to tell them something.”

  “No, you don’t,” replied the Judge. “Okay, so the plan is set. Does anyone have any questions or comments?”

  “Yeah, don’t burn yourself, Son,” said the Sheriff.

  ~~~~

  Everyone started leaving the Social Club. The Sheriff figured that he would go back to the police station and sleep on the davenport in his office.

  But as he was leaving, the Judge approached him and whispered to him so no one else could here. “Stay here; I want to talk to you about something in private.”

  “Okay,” the Sheriff whispered back.

  After a short while, Junior was ready to exit but turned around and asked, “Dad, you coming?”

  “Go ahead, I’ll catch up to you. I’m going to take a much-needed nap when I get to the station. Tell everyone I won’t be available until I’ve had enough sleep.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  Once everyone was finally gone, the Judge directed the Sheriff back to the conference table, where the Judge sat at the head.

  “Okay, you and I need to talk,” said the Judge.

  “What do you want to talk about,” replied the Sheriff.

  “We need to cut the bullshit around here—just you and I. I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking that maybe it’s not a nigger who did the killings. Now, I said that I thought a nigger did it in front of the guys. I want the guys to think this—I want the FBI to think this as well, but I don’t think that. What do you think?”

  The Sheriff could barely keep his eyes open and was having difficulties focusing, but he had to respond to the Judge’s question. “Well you know … things are happening so fast; I really haven’t thought about it that hard. I just assume that it has to be a nigger because why would a white guy do this.”

  “Yeah, I thought the same thing too, initially. But the thing that bothers me is that for a nigger to do this, they almost would have to roam around the white areas undetected and know what was going to happen. I don’t think that is possible. I think it has to be a white guy.”

  The Sheriff started waking up a bit and getting his second wind. “Well, who do you think it is?”

  “Well, that’s why I’m sitting here talking to you. The reason why I called you only is because I’m pretty sure it’s not you, and I know it’s not me, so let’s brainstorm and think about who could it be.”

  The Sheriff sighed. “What about that Goldstein character or that reporter. You know they’re a bunch of nigger-loving commies.”

  “All right, why do you think it’s them? Was it even possible? Isn’t that Goldstein guy from Austin? Isn’t the reporter from Austin? They’re certainly not from here. How could they have possibly done it? It’s like about a four-hour drive.”

  “Well, let’s see. Lucky was killed at about eleven o’clock. They could have easily drove back to Austin. They would have gotten there at about four o’clock in the morning. Then, you know, they get a call from Leon. You know, probably early in the morning. Yeah, I think it’s possible it could be either one of them.”

  “Okay, who else?”

  The Sheriff shrugged and pondered this but did not respond.

  The Judge continued. “Who knew that these things were going to take place?”

  “Well, everyone in this room did.” The Sheriff paused realizing the ramifications of the Judge’s accusation. “There’s no way you think any of these guys did it?”

  “Well, I have my doubts—”

  “Hey, wait a minute, one of these guys is my son, and my son did not do this.”

  “I don’t think Junior did it. Junior was the one who came up with this great idea. And I don’t think Acton did it.”

  “You’re not saying Archie did it?”

  “He seems to be the only one complaining.” The Judge shrugged. “I don’t know, brother.” The Judge paused. “We need to keep an eye on everyone, and that includes your son.”

  “Come on, Judge, my son did not do this.”

  “I know, but we’ll have to see. Why don’t you get some sleep? You look tired, but when you get up, start looking into the matter as if a white guy did it. Look at it from that angle.”

  “What are we going to do when we catch the person?” asked the Sheriff.

  The Judge chuckled. “We are going to torture and string that motherfucker up, at a minimum.”

  The Sheriff felt a chill across his body thinking that maybe the Judge might make some false assumptions and think it was his son. The Sheriff realized that he needed to find the killer before the Judge did something hasty.

  “Okay, I’ll find the motherfucker,” said the Sheriff confidently.

  Chapter 15

  “Clank, clank, … clank!” James Brooks rattled his aluminum cup against the iron prison bars. “Clank, clank, clank, … clank, clank.”

  “Hey, hey, hey … come on!” shouted James Brooks. “Hey, hey, where’s Deron at? Hey, hey, get down here! We need some food, too.”

  “Dad, this is not good,” said Leon. “What did they do to my brother?” Leon, his brother Reggie, his dad, and Mr. Stevens stood up in their cells worrying about the whereabouts of Deron. Leon feared the worst. He could barely get any sleep last night worrying about his brother, Deron.

  James Brooks wept. “Oh my God. What have they done to my boy? They keep messing with my boys.”

  “Dad, I don’t know,” said Leon. “This is not good. They tricked us. They made it seem like they weren’t going to do anything with me, so then they took Deron. They wanted Deron all along. He’s been shooting off his mouth. It was a dirty trick.”

  “They better not harm him, man. I swear I’m going to go get my shotgun. I’m going to blow everyone away. I don’t give a fuck about them. I’m sick of these fuckin’ crackers.”

  “Dad, I know. Let’s just pray. Let’s pray that Deron’s okay.” Leon started crying himself. “I don’t like this. Dad, I don’t like this.”

  Reggie spoke to his dad. “Dad, keep rattling the cage—keep rattling the cage.”

  James Brooks clanged his cup against the iron bars, shouting, “Hey, hey, … come on … get me out of here. … Hey, hey … get me out of here.”

  Leon heard some footsteps and the door opened. In came, the Sheriff’s son, Tyler Mason. Leon feared the Sheriff’s son as much as he feared the Sheriff. For that matter, he feared all the cops. Tyler Mason walked towards the prisoners’ cells.
r />   Before he could say anything, James Brooks yelled, “Hey, where’s Deron at?”

  “Settle down … settle down,” Junior said calmly. “I got some good news for you.”

  “No, no, where’s Deron at? You took him away.”

  “Hey, settle down.”

  “No, I’m not going to settle down. Where’s my son? God dammit!”

  “Hey, boy, you settle down there.”

  “I don’t give a shit!”

  “Dad, come on, be careful,” cautioned Leon.

  “You better shut the fuck up, boy,” said Junior. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. Now, you just shut the fuck up and let me talk.”

  “You better not harmed my boy,” said James Brooks.

  “Okay, I got some fuckin’ good news for y’all, but now I’m thinking of not telling you.” Junior paused. “Y’all released.”

  Leon couldn’t believe it. Did he just say that they we’re all going to be release, he wondered?

  “What happened to Deron?” James Brooks said persistently.

  “What do you mean, we’re all released?” asked Leon.

  “You’re all released. You boys can go free. We’re still investigating. We don’t have enough evidence to press charges, but they could arrest you guys later depending on how the investigation goes. But right now, you are released.”

  “Where’s Deron?” asked James Brook, again.

  “Well …” Junior sighed, “I don’t know where Deron is, but two other people have been killed tonight.”

  “What!” said Leon.

  “Yep, two white people have been killed again, and the cops are looking for Deron.”

  “What do you mean, the cops are looking for Deron?” asked James Brooks. “You had Deron. What do you mean you’re looking for Deron? Are you trying to say he escaped? Bullshit!”

  “Look, I’m not telling you anymore. All I know is that if you boys don’t want to get out of jail, you don’t have to, but I’m letting you go right now.”

  The Negroes looked at each.

  “All right,” said James Brooks.

  ~~~~

  The police escorted Leon, his family, and Tyrone Stevens out of the police station to a mixed crowd of people: angry white people and cheering Negroes. The white people were shouting, “Niggers … murderers. We’re goin’ to get you, niggers.”

  “Leon!” Mama Brooks shouted through the crowd. “James, Reggie, over here,” Mama Brooks waved them over to her.

  Leon was so happy to see his mother, but he was even happier to see Joyce, the girl whom he adored. He was surprised that Joyce came. He didn’t think that she liked him as much as he liked her.

  The Sheriff’s son came out to address the crowd. He stared at the white people. “Look, you go home right now. We have this under control.”

  “Control, my ass, Junior. The niggers just killed the Sawyer brothers. We’re not taking it anymore.”

  “James, over here,” Mama Brooks called out again.

  Leon and his family and Mr. Stevens finally made it to Mama Brooks in the crowd. Leon was the first to hug his mother followed quickly by Reggie and James Brooks. To Leon's surprise, Joyce gave him a big hug and pressed her large breasts against his chest. He loved it.

  “How are you, Leon?” asked Joyce. “I thought I would never see you again.”

  Leon was speechless. He loved Joyce but was too shy to let her know how he really felt. She was a childhood friend, but Leon never crossed the line and tried to kiss her or even ask her out on a date. They separated after Leon went to college. She couldn’t afford to get into a college, but her parents didn’t really encourage it. Leon thought she was beautiful. She had somewhat of a big butt—just the way Leon liked it. His heart melted every time he saw her. Plus, she was so nice to him.

  “Leon, did you miss me?” Joyce asked.

  “Oh, yes. I called out your name when they had the noose around my neck.” Leon couldn’t believe that he blurted this out.

  She smiled broadly, showing her pearly white teeth. “What happened to your eye?”

  Leon touched the burn mark just below his right eye. “Oh, the crackers did this to me.”

  “Niggers, we’re going to kill you for what you did to our boys!” The white people kept shouting, and it seemed that a riot was ready to start.

  Then, the Judge made a surprised visit to the head of the police station’s steps, taking over for Junior. The Judge spoke, and glared at the white people, “Listen, like Junior said, the police are still investigating the crimes, and the police do not know who committed these crimes at this time. Do not take matters into your own hands, or you will suffer the consequences. Do you understand?”

  “Judge, are you going to allow these niggers to be release?” asked a white man in the crowd.

  The Judge addressed the man. “Peter, come over here to the side, I want to address you in private. For the rest of you, you better go back to your homes and calm down. The police have assured me that they will find the murderers.”

  Leon noticed that the Judge commanded a lot of respect. The white people quickly disbursed.

  While this was happening, James Brooks whispered into Mama Brooks’s ear, “I think they killed Deron. He’s gone. They took him last night—”

  “Don’t worry,” she whispered back. “He’s all right.”

  James Brooks smiled broadly. “Where is he?”

  “Yeah, Mama, where is he?” asked Leon.

  “Shhh,” she said. “Come over here by the lawyer guy.” She pointed to the cars parked down the street where Goldstein, the reporter, and the state trooper were standing.

  They started walking towards Goldstein, but James Brooks couldn’t wait to hear. “Come on, where is he?” asked James Brooks. “Are you sure he’s okay.”

  “Yes, just wait,” she responded irritably but quietly. “I’ll tell you in a second. I don’t want anyone to hear. The cops and the Klan are looking for him, but he is safe.”

  Finally, they reached Goldstein and the other men.

  “Mr. Goldstein, can you fill my family in on what’s happening?” asked Mama Brooks.

  “Sure,” Goldstein replied and took everyone to the side out of hearing distance from the reporter and the state trooper. Goldstein addressed James Brooks. “Okay, I can assure you that your son, Deron, is fine.”

  “What happened to him?” asked James Brooks.

  “Okay, we have to keep this quiet. There are only three people who know where Deron is at: Mrs. Brooks, the person that is hiding him, and me. I think, for everyone’s safety, we should keep it that way.”

  “I want to see my boy, though. I thought they killed him.”

  “I understand,” said Goldstein, “but we need to keep him hidden until the FBI gets here.”

  “FBI?” said James Brooks. “The FBI doesn’t give a shit about Negroes. That Hoover guy hates Negroes. What makes you think the FBI is going to help us? You think we should trust the FBI?”

  Goldstein sighed. “Yes, I think you should. Quite frankly, it’s our only hope. If we can’t trust them, then we’re all in trouble.”

  “What happened last night?” asked Leon. “Who else got killed, and what did they do with Deron.”

  Goldstein filled everyone in on what happened.

  Leon’s head was spinning. While one side of him was petrified with the last few day’s horrific events, the other side was beaming with delight that his true love, Joyce, seemed to really like and care for him. He wasn’t going to be shy anymore. He was going to be bold like most other black men in his neighborhood.

  “Joyce, I’m so glad to see you,” said Leon. Then, he did something that even shocked him—he kissed her softly on the lips.

  “Leon! Wow, what has gotten into you.”

  Mama Brooks must have seen them because she said, “Leon, stop the kissing. We have a major catastrophe going on here, and you’re kissing girls. Now, shape up, boy.”

  Leon sensed that his mother was jea
lous. He peeked over at Joyce, gave her a mischievous grin, and winked at her without his mother seeing him.

  Chapter 16

  “Hall, how the fuck did we get stuck on this shit detail?” FBI special agent, Andrew Perry asked his partner, Tom Hall while they were driving towards Dodge County. Perry was driving while Hall sat in the passenger seat.

  “I know. I agree,” replied Hall.

  “What did you hear?” asked Perry. Perry was in his late twenties and a little younger than the thirty-two-year-old Hall. Both Perry and Hall were tall, physically fit, and had crew cuts. They were both dressed in the typical dark suit with a white shirt and skinny tie. Rumor had it that the FBI Director, Edgar Hoover, had fired a FBI agent for not having his tie on, so all FBI agents constantly wore their suits and ties.

  “I heard it came from all the way up the top.”

  “You mean from Hoover?”

  “No, actually, I heard it came from the White House to Hoover. I heard that Hoover was trying to talk the President out of it because the FBI has its hands full with trying to catch the commies and the mob, and they don’t have time for a local matter. But the President insisted that the FBI needs to get down there to prevent this from exploding. The President is concerned about that Brown versus Board of Education Supreme Court case and that none of the Southern states are going to follow it.”

  “Okay, so when are we supposed to arrive there?” asked Perry. “How much time do you think we got?”

  “I think we should arrive in about thirty minutes, right at about nine o’clock this morning.”