Swift Justice: The Southern Way

by R. P. Wolff

  “How do you know this?” asked Perry.

  “This is per my clients,” replied Goldstein.

  “Okay, go ahead.”

  “He works at a construction site. They kidnapped him—the three people who were ultimately killed. They hit him over the head with a club of some kind, put him in a trunk, and drove him to this secluded site in the woods. They burned him with a cigarette three times, one just under his eye. They had a noose around his neck and were ready to lift him up, and someone came out of nowhere and shot the three white guys dead. Shot them twice with a shotgun and then kicked them. The guy who killed them gave Leon the keys to get out of the handcuffs, so Leon eventually escaped.”

  “Do you have any evidence besides Leon Brooks’s word?” asked Hall.

  “Yes, a reporter from the Austin Gazette, Ryan Ward, and I went to the crime scene and found the actual noose. Ryan Ward took a picture of the noose. Plus, we saw blood in the trunk of the car, and Ryan took a picture of that as well.”

  “Do you have any idea on who did it?” asked Hall.

  “No, I have no idea. I’m not from this town. But I think it’s clear that the Klan, here, ordered the hanging of Leon, but it went against them in the end.”

  “What do you know about the Klan, here?” asked Perry. They would switch off on their questioning of a true cooperating witness. Perry would now ask some questions.

  “The ACLU knows a lot about the Klan in the State of Texas. We believe the leader of the whole Texas Klan is located right here in Dodge County.”

  Hall and Perry exchanged glances at each other. “Who’s that?” Perry asked innocently as if he didn’t already know.

  Goldstein sighed before he spoke and seemed scared, Perry noticed. “Well, it is Atwood Baker, the Chief Justice of the Texas Supreme Court. And we also believe that practically the whole Dodge County police force is part of the Klan.”

  “Is that right,” Perry said suspiciously.

  “Yes, but of course, I can’t prove any of this. The Atwood Baker theory is more of a hunch, but the police being part of the Klan is pretty clear. They allow the Klan to commit horrible crimes on the Negroes. And in some cases, like last night, they were directly involved in the crime.”

  “How’s that?” asked Perry.

  “Well, the crime that happened last night, the Sheriff drove Deron to the warehouse and locked him up to the table.”

  “Yes, tell us about this other crime.”

  “Well, I can give you the short version, but it would probably be best to speak to the actual witness of the crime, Deron Brooks.”

  “Yes, we’re told that you have him,” said Perry. “Where is he at?”

  Goldstein moved closer to the FBI agents and spoke in a whisper, “He’s hidden in a local church.”

  “Okay, give us the short version, and then we’ll interview Deron Brooks,” said Perry.

  Goldstein told them the story, as he knew it.

  “Tell us about what the Sheriff said about Deron Brooks,” said Perry. This was a key question for the FBI, and Perry anxiously waited for an answer.

  “Yes, he claims that Deron Brooks escaped and that he was probably the one who killed the two victims. He said that Deron was a suspect and asked us to see if we could find him.”

  “He asked you?” asked Perry.

  “Well, we had the state trooper with us. I think he was mostly asking the state trooper to help. But the state trooper’s boss called, and the state trooper has to go back today to Austin. He was planning on leaving as soon as you guys showed up.”

  Perry realized that they needed more FBI agents because there was so much work to do. He and Hall would have to separate because one of them needed to go to the crime scenes and maybe get some fingerprints and other evidence, and the other needed to continue the interviews. He would need to strategize with Hall once they finished with Goldstein. Perhaps they could use Goldstein’s car.

  Perry heard a loud noise from outside that sounded like a siren. Hall looked into the direction of the window, but the drapes were drawn.

  “Hmm, I wonder what that is?” asked Hall.

  “I hope it’s not another murder,” said Goldstein.

  Perry stood up and peeked through the drapes but couldn’t see anything. The siren continued but was dissipating. It must have passed by, thought Perry.

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough what it was,” said Perry. Perry paused. “Okay, so how are we going to be able to interview this Deron guy because the cops are looking for him?”

  “Hmmn, why don’t you call from your room,” suggested Goldstein.

  Perry replied. “Well, that may sound like a good idea, but the phone systems in hotels make it very easy for the hotel staff to listen in on the calls. Plus, we’ve made ourselves a huge target here. They would probably love to listen to our calls, so I don’t like that idea.”

  Perry started thinking out loud. “So if we drive out to this church, you know, we’re going to stand out like a sore thumb. We got a black Plymouth, no one knows us, and we’re new in town. They’re going to know that he’s at the church, so that doesn’t seem to work.” Perry turned to face directly at Goldstein. “If you go there, as well, they’re going to spot you. Um … okay … we’re going to have to go somewhere where we can make a phone call where no one can possibly listen in. Basically, anywhere but a hotel should work.”

  Hall interjected. “Hey, I would like to meet them in person, though. Calling them on the phone, I don’t like. We got to figure out a way to meet them without drawing attention to ourselves.”

  Perry heard another siren outside. He quickly peeked through the window, and saw a police car heading down Main Street. People were running down the street towards the direction of the police car.

  “Something big has happened,” said Perry. “We’re going to have to check it out.”

  “Yes, but let’s get our game plan for Deron first,” said Hall. “The siren can wait. It’s probably a local problem anyway.”

  “Okay, so where were we?” asked Perry.

  “We have to meet with them in person. I want to meet both Leon and Deron.” Hall paused. “How could we meet with them?”

  “How about this,” Goldstein said. “I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, but I think one of you should interview Leon and the other should interview Deron. One of you, can use my car.”

  “Okay, continue,” said Hall. “I’m listening.”

  “I will arrange for Deron to be delivered to one of you at the warehouse because that’s Deron’s crime scene, and I will arrange to have Leon delivered to the other one at the first crime scene.”

  “Yeah, but the jig will be up because the cops at the crime scenes will see them and probably arrest Deron,” said Perry. Nevertheless, Perry thought that Goldstein was on to something here. He and Hall needed to split up anyway.

  Goldstein continued. “Yeah, you’re probably right. You will probably need to keep them in your custody to protect them.”

  “Shit, I don’t want to babysit them,” said Hall.

  “I wouldn’t call it babysitting,” said Goldstein. “They can provide you with much needed information. They can’t walk freely in the white areas, but with you, they can. Who knows maybe they can identify the person who did it.”

  “Whoosh,” said Perry. “If Hoover found out that we were chauffeuring around Negroes and hanging out with the ACLU, we would have to turn in our badges.”

  “Well, I’m not going to say anything,” said Goldstein.

  “Okay, Goldstein, I like how you operate,” said Perry. “You’re a smart man.”

  Perry glanced over to Hall. “How about I meet with Deron at the warehouse, and you meet with Leon at the first crime scene? Goldstein, you stay stationed in your room, and you will be our effective dispatcher. We will have to speak in code. We must assume that the hotel owner will be listening to every call. Okay, we will refer to Leon as Lenny and Deron as Danny. Refer to them as officers. T
he warehouse will be referred to as the restaurant and the first scene will be referred to as the park.”

  “I like this,” said Goldstein. “What about this siren?”

  “Tom, I’ll see what the siren is all about.” Perry said.

  “Sure,” replied Hall.

  Goldstein spoke. “I’m going to use an outside payphone to make my initial calls, and then I will promptly return to my room and won’t leave.”

  Goldstein left the room.

  Perry spoke to Hall. “I can’t believe we are using a Jew lawyer from the ACLU to be our main communication hub. We can’t tell anyone this.”

  Chapter 19

  “Sheriff, how did Deron Brooks escape?” asked Ryan Ward, who was amongst a vast crowd of reporters and Dodge County citizens, black and white.

  The Sheriff had called an impromptu press conference outside the steps of the police station. It was about 11 a.m. The Sheriff had ordered his son to start the fire and have it going while the Sheriff was at his press conference. The Sheriff figured that this way the fire would interrupt his press conference, and he wouldn’t have to keep answering questions.

  “He did not escape,” replied the Sheriff.

  “What … you told me last night that he escaped and that you were looking for him,” replied Ryan Ward. “Are you not looking for him now?”

  “That’s right. He never escaped. I never told you that he escaped.”

  “Wait, Sheriff, there were two witnesses that heard you say that. They were Howard Goldstein and the state trooper Jake Wright, and they were right there when you told me. You said that he escaped. We just want to know how he escaped.”

  The Sheriff was glad that they decided to say that Deron didn’t escape. This was much better than sticking to his original story. The Sheriff replied, “Again, he did not escape. We let him go. We let him go like everyone else.”

  An NBC reporter asked the next question. “Did you let him go the same time as everyone else?”

  “No. We let him go before everyone else.”

  “Why?” asked the NBC reporter.

  The Sheriff had to think quickly on his feet on this question, and the answer came quickly to his mouth. “We were going to let them go one by one, but we decided to let the rest of them go all at the same time.”

  A CBS reporter interjected. “Sheriff, is there a race riot developing in your county? You have five white people dead, and you just release black suspects. I was speaking to some of your citizens earlier, and they are getting very angry.”

  Ironically, the Sheriff loved this question because the reporter changed the subject of Deron escaping. The Sheriff was glad to answer. “Well, we certainly understand the citizens’ concern of the five brutal murders. We have been able so far to contain the anger, and we hope to maintain the peace.”

  “Have you considered calling in the Texas National Guard?” asked a reporter with a New York Times jacket on.

  Damn, the Sheriff never considered having to call the Texas National Guard. They wanted the FBI to go after the Negroes. They didn’t want to involve the National Guard, though, they could easily call them up based on the Judge’s connections. Maybe it was better for the National Guard to come in and kick ass instead of the FBI. He would suggest this to the Judge.

  “No, we haven’t considered calling the Texas National Guard at this time, but we haven’t ruled it out.”

  “Why did you arrest the Negroes that were in your custody, and why did you eventually release them?” an ABC reporter asked.

  Before the Sheriff could respond, a police officer rushed out of the police station and whispered into the Sheriff’s ear notifying him that there was a fire by the Social Club. The Sheriff welcomed this news but only showed concerned on his face in front of the media. The Sheriff ordered the police officer to get all available officers and volunteered fireman to rush to the fire.

  The Sheriff turned back to the crowd and shouted. “There is a fire by the Social Club. I’m sorry; I have to see what’s going on.”

  “Sheriff—,” asked several reporters simultaneously, but the Sheriff had already scurried down the stairs and broke down into a sprint towards the Social Club, which was a couple of blocks away. He could see black smoke rising above where the club was located.

  Everything was in place.

  ~~~~

  The Sheriff quickly arrived at the chaotic scene at the Social Club. Flames engulfed the Social Club, but, fortunately, the fire appeared contained and wasn’t spreading to its neighboring businesses, which were Dickinson’s Diner and Gladstone Insurance Company. Both of these businesses weren’t open yet, so it was perfect for Junior’s purposes of going undetected.

  The volunteer firefighters did an amazing job of hooking up the hoses to a nearby fire hydrant and dosed the Social Club with volumes of water. Smoke was everywhere and sirens from police, fire, and ambulances were blaring. Crowds of white people angrily gathered by the club. There was not one Negro in the crowd.

  The Judge ran up to the Sheriff, and the act started.

  “Look, what they’ve done. Look, what they’ve done to our precious Social Club,” the Judge said while whimpering. “I can’t believe it.”

  The police were trying to hold back the crowd that was ready for a fight.

  A white man shouted back. “I know. Who the heck did this? We’re going to get these motherfuckers.”

  Another man shouted, “Sheriff, Judge, we can’t put up with this anymore. When is this going to end? We got to stop it! We are not putting up with this anymore.”

  “I know. I know,” replied the Judge. “Okay, just calm down. Calm down. Let’s get a handle on this. We are not going to allow this to happen. Just everyone, calm down.”

  The Sheriff was loving the scene because the Judge was taking responsibility and trying to control the crowd. Now, it seemed like the Judge was finally getting his hands dirty, and the Sheriff loved passing the baton. Also, the Sheriff noticed that not only was the media present, but one of the FBI guys showed up. He knew it was an FBI guy by the way he was dressed. The newspaper people weren’t asking questions but just taking notes and observing.

  “We can’t calm down,” another man shouted in a panic. “They’re destroying our town. The niggers are destroying our town. Don’t you understand?”

  “Yes, we are under attack,” another man shouted. “We’ve got to stop it. I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

  The Sheriff thought this was the time to suggest the Texas National Guard. “Wait, wait, maybe we need to call the Texas National Guard and let them take care of the niggers. You know, let’s wait a second here.”

  The Judge shot the Sheriff a stare. He whispered into the Sheriff’s ear, “What the fuck are you saying? We didn’t discuss this.”

  “I know, but one of the reporters suggested it, and I thought it was a good idea.”

  “What do you mean you’re going to send in the Texas National Guard?” a person asked from the crowd.

  “Now, now,” said the Judge, “Everyone remain calm. We will find the culprits that burned our beloved Social Club.”

  “That’s what y’all said yesterday and look what has happened,” the same man said.

  ~~~~

  When Perry arrived at the scene of the siren’s location, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The town was in disarray. He quickly found out that a social club burnt down. The white people were outright angry. He glanced around and noticed that there was not one Negro in the crowd. That was until some unlucky Negro ran to the scene to check it out—not knowing what he was walking into. He was a young Negro man of about thirty. Perry figured that he must have worked somewhere downtown.

  Once the crowd saw the Negro, they became even angrier.

  “There he is!” shouted a white man. “There’s the fuckin’ nigger that probably did this. Let’s get that motherfucker.”

  The Negro quickly figured out that they were yelling about him, so he instinctively took off running in the o
pposite direction of the crowd. Several white men chased after him. The Negro stumbled as he ran and quickly got back up, but it was too late. The white gang tackled him. The white guys stood up and started kicking the Negro.

  “You motherfucker!” the white man yelled. “You fuckin’ nigger. Die motherfucker.”

  The Negro tried his best to get up but was unable.

  Perry had to react quickly and stop the madness, but fortunately, the Sheriff and his deputies beat Perry to it. The Sheriff ran to the fight scene and directed its deputies to join him. Also, running with the Sheriff was a man in a suit. Perry thought that was odd that a man, so well dressed, was running with the cops to a fight scene.

  The Sheriff yelled, “Guys, stop it! We’ll take care of this.”

  The Sheriff and his deputies pulled the men away from the Negro on the ground. The Negro was grimacing with pain and wrapping his arms around his ribs.

  “Sheriff, you’re not going to take care of shit!” yelled one of the guys who attacked the Negro.

  The man in the suit spoke, with authority, “Jimmy, shut the fuck up. You do not take matters into your own hands.”

  Oh, Perry now recognized the man. It was Atwood Baker, the Chief Justice of the Texas Supreme Court—the FBI’s target. Perry noticed that the Jimmy guy looked scared when the Judge spoke, and the other guys quickly stepped away from the Negro.

  “Do you understand me?” said the Judge.

  “Yes, I do, Judge,” replied Jimmy. “But what are you going to do about us being attacked?”

  “We’re going to find who did these crimes and make them pay for it, but you got to give us some time.”

  “Judge, with all due respect, we are done waiting,” said Jimmy. “I’m not going to sit around and be the next victim.”

  The Sheriff spoke. “All right, Jimmy, we’ll arrest this nigger and see if he was involved or knows who’s involved.”

  Now, half the crowd was at this fight scene, which was about a half a block away from the fire. All the newspaper reporters were at the fight scene.

  “Sheriff, on what grounds are you going to arrest this man?” asked a reporter.