Swift Justice: The Southern Way

by R. P. Wolff

  “Paul, we would like to bring you and your family into our witness protection program, so you don’t get killed. But, hey, that’s totally up to you, but I guarantee you that you will not see tomorrow if you don’t call this number.”

  “Bullshit. Please, get the fuck out of here.”

  “Sure.” Perry grabbed his duffel bag along with the recorder bag and left. Perry wasn’t expecting the guy to decide to talk at that moment, but, hopefully, he would reconsider and call the FBI number in Austin.

  ~~~~

  While Perry was harassing Paul Sawyer, Hall took Leon to the morgue. There were some reporters outside that tried to interview Hall as he was entering the morgue, but Hall refused to answer any of their questions. They tried to follow in, but one of the morgue employees stopped them from coming in.

  Leon had never been to a morgue. It was as creepy as he envisioned it. The building was a dark, two-story, brick building. Surprisingly, Leon noticed that the morgue employees were cooperative and accommodating to the FBI. Hall had phoned ahead and spoke to the coroner, who welcomed Hall to stop by and see the bodies.

  A worker escorted them up to the second floor into a room labeled, “Examination.” The room was a large, very chilly, well-lit room. The floors were cement with drains, perhaps for the blood, Leon speculated. There were many stainless-steel tables that had wheels on them. To the side, there were six small rectangular doors, with two stack on top of each other. Leon figured that was where they kept the bodies.

  Although Leon wasn’t looking forward to going to the morgue with the FBI, he actually felt safe being with him for the first time in what seemed like a long time. Surely, no one was going to harm him while he was with the FBI.

  The coroner saw them and approached Hall and Leon. “Hi, I’m Billy Stage. You must be Special Agent Hall. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, it is, and thank you so much for accommodating me. Many people in this town have not been so accommodating, so I really appreciate it.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem. I’m just glad that you’re taking an interest in our town and maybe you can solve these murders.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Who’s the Negro with you?” asked Billy.

  Billy shot Leon a dirty look. So much for the so-called great accommodation, thought Leon.

  “He’s Leon Brooks. He was going to be hung on the first night, but that mystery person shot the first three people to death.”

  “Okay,” replied Billy, without greeting Leon or even acknowledging Leon’s presence.

  Hall peered around, saw the six small doors, and pointed to them. “So is that where the bodies are stored.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Looks like you have six coolers.”

  “Yeah, I’m running out. Hopefully, I don’t have to use the sixth one.”

  “Before you show me the bodies, what can you tell me about them.”

  “Okay, three of them from the first night, were each shot twice with a shotgun. They also had a lot of bruising, which I suspect occurred because they were kicked.”

  “Were they kicked before they died or after?” asked Hall. “Can you tell?”

  “It was after,” interrupted Leon. Leon was worried about this line of questioning because he was the one who kicked them. It was the only thing that he did that was potentially a crime—that and taking stuff from the car.

  Hall looked at Leon with a frown. “Leon, I wanted to see what the coroner thought. Do not interrupt anymore. Okay?”

  “Okay,” replied Leon.

  “Mr. Stage, what is your opinion?” asked Hall.

  “I can’t really tell, but the fact that there is no evidence that they were bound, I would deduct that it had to be post mortem.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Stage; I need to speak to Leon in private.”

  Hall and Leon walked to the opposite side of the room.

  “Leon, did you kick them?” Hall asked Leon, suddenly.

  “No,” shot back Leon. Leon thought that Hall could tell that he was lying, but he had to stick to his story.

  “Leon, if you don’t tell me the truth, you could be hurting the investigation.”

  Leon thought about what would happened to him if he told the truth. If white people found out that he kicked them, that was almost as bad as killing the white people. White people would lynch him—again. But for some reason, he trusted the FBI guy. He decided that he would punt.

  “Mr. Hall, can we talk about this later, please?”

  “Did you do it? I need to know.”

  Leon was going to continue his punt. “Please, can we talk about it later? These walls may have ears.” Leon was proud of himself for coming up with that excuse.

  “Okay, as soon as we get out, you have to let me know.”

  “Okay,” said Leon.

  Leon and Hall walked back to where Billy was standing.

  “Sorry about that,” Hall said. “So they were killed and then kicked?” asked Hall.

  “Yes,” replied Billy.

  “What about the other two?”

  “The other two weren’t killed with a shotgun. They were killed with a rifle and a revolver. They were shot twice too.”

  “Okay, and were they kicked?”

  “No. They don’t have any bruises. I mean there might be a few bruises, but it was probably from their fall. They clearly weren’t kicked like the first victims.”

  Hall pondered this news for a minute. Hall spoke aloud. “So why was one set of victims kicked and the others weren’t? Why is this significant? I don’t know. Something’s got me puzzled, but I can’t put my hand on it. Oh, well. Can I see the bodies?”

  Hall viewed the bodies, asked some more questions, and Hall and Leon left the building. As soon as they got into the car, Hall confronted Leon.

  “Okay, I know you’re scare if you tell me you kicked those men. I personally don’t care, and I understand why you would want to kick the men that just tortured you and were going to kill you. But I need to know. I’m not going to turn you in. I need to know everything that happened in order for us to solve this crime. So did you kick them?”

  Leon hesitated. He didn’t know what to do. His fellow Negros always told him never to trust the white man. His pops would always say: “You can never trust a cracker.” But this was different. This cracker was with the federal government and actually treated Leon with respect. He seemed eager to bring down the Klan. If Leon didn’t cooperate, then his life would probably be worse. Leon finally relented.

  “Um, yes I did, but they were already dead; I swear,” said Leon.

  “That’s what I thought. Hey, I don’t blame you. They burned you with cigarettes and tried to hang you. Anyone, black or white, would have done that to their torturers.”

  “Please don’t tell any local white folks. They will try to kill me again.”

  “Don’t worry. We won’t tell them.”

  “Why is it so significant?” asked Leon.

  “I don’t know yet, but I have a gut feeling it is somewhat important. I will have to speak with my partner later today and see what we can come up with.”

  Leon breathed heavily. “I’m kind of glad I told you. It has been haunting me all this time.”

  “Is there anything else I should know that you haven’t already told me?”

  Leon paused to ponder. “Well, I took some things out of their car when I ran away, but they were only essential things I needed to get back like a flashlight, water, and rags.”

  “That’s no big deal,” replied Hall.

  “What’s are next step?” asked Leon.

  “I don’t know. I think we need to head back to my hotel.”

  “What hotel is that?”

  “The Walnut Hill Lane Hotel.”

  “Oh, there’s no way they are going to allow me into the hotel.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. We’ll have to figure out how to handle that.”

  ~~~~

  James Brooks drove his son,
Deron, to the warehouse to meet with Perry. Perry had called Goldstein, updated him on all the recent developments to relay to Hall, and informed Goldstein it was time for Deron to meet with him. Word had quickly spread around town that Deron was not a wanted man—but a man released from jail. Nevertheless, the white people in town were in a rage and foaming at the mouth ready to kill. Tensions couldn’t have been higher.

  Perry figured that Mr. Brooks and Deron probably didn’t feel secured with the latest news. They finally pulled up to the warehouse. Perry introduced himself to Deron and Mr. Brooks. Perry asked Mr. Brooks to wait outside because he needed to speak to Deron alone. Perry wanted Deron to speak freely without worrying what his father might say. Plus, his father might get emotional and angry at what his son went through.

  A police officer guarded the warehouse. Perry had to go through the usual ritual of having a confrontation in order to get into to where he needed to go. Some Southern hospitality, Perry thought. Perry also insisted that the police officer stand outside while he spoke to Deron in private. Again, Perry had to confront the officer before the officer relented.

  Perry had Deron reenact the previous night’s events. Perry saw where the police had sealed off the area where Deron said the shooter was standing. Perry could see the outline of footprints in the dust. Perry took numerous pictures of the crime scene, especially by the footprints. He also measured the footprints.

  Perry asked follow-up questions. “So it looks like you were the only one to get a decent look at the guy when he was in front of you. I need you to really think and describe him; even the smallest detail can be important.”

  Deron responded. “Okay, he had a white hood on. He was dressed in blue. He had blue coveralls on and a blue long-sleeve shirt. And, yeah, I didn’t really see his shoes. I wasn’t really looking down.”

  “Was he white or black?”

  “Well, you know, I couldn’t tell. The lighting wasn’t that great, but I’ll tell you what I think I saw. There was something black and shining around his eyes under the white hood. It was like he had a black, plastic mask on underneath.”

  “Really?”

  “What do you think that means?” asked Deron.

  “Well, I think it’s obvious. It was a white person who wanted to appear as if he was a black man. He was probably wearing a Batman mask that kids can buy for Halloween.”

  “Wow, that’s interesting.”

  “Okay, what about his hands,” asked Perry.

  “Well, he had gloves on.”

  “What about the gloves? Were they special?”

  “Well, the lighting wasn’t good, but we did have some light, and I was able to notice that the gloves were kind of fancy.”

  “Fancy how?”

  “Well they were dark. I think they were black, but they had a slit at the bottom. It wasn’t a tear. It was designed to have a little slit. Also, I noticed that on the top of the gloves was zig-zag stitching.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty impressive that you remembered those details.”

  “Special Agent Perry, you got to stop these people,” said Deron. “I came so close to dying. I mean these guys were ready to kill me. If that guy didn’t come out of nowhere and shoot them, I would be dead. My brother would be dead if it wasn’t for this person.” Deron sighed. “I know you want to catch this person who did the killings, but I’m more concerned with the people responsible for my brother and me to be almost killed in the first place. I mean they’re not going to stop here. They’re going crazy right now in town. Can you stop them? Please stop them.”

  “Hey, you know, I only have so much power. We are looking at the Klan very hard here. I don’t want to reveal our plans, but we are actually more focused in on what the Klan is doing. But we are also interest in finding out who did these recent murders, and, by doing this, we might be able to bring down the Klan here in Dodge County.”

  “Wow, that would be wonderful,” replied Deron, “but it is not going to be easy. There are so many of them. Almost all of the white people in this town are part of the Klan. I’m just grateful that the federal government has recognized that and is trying to make an attempt. Thank you.”

  “Well, I haven’t accomplished anything yet.” Perry paused. “What else can you tell me about the killer?”

  “I can’t think of anything other than if you find the black plastic mask, you’ll find your killer.”

  ~~~~

  The Sheriff had accomplished a lot during the day. After paying Paulie a threatening visit, he went back to each crime scene to see if he missed anything. He didn’t notice anything new at the warehouse, but he did find where the vehicle was parked which was to the side, near the road. He saw remnants of plaster that probably the FBI did, but he noticed that the tire tracks had to be a pickup truck because they were much too big for a regular car. The Sheriff took a piece of paper and pressed it against where the right front tire would be in an effort to get an imprint of the tire. This way maybe he could match the imprint with a tire of an actual vehicle.

  Acton and Junior had pickup trucks but not Archie. Plus, Archie was a tall man, while Acton and Junior were average-height men, both being a little under six feet tall. He also measured the shoe print where the FBI had probably poured the plaster. He calculated that the person wore a size ten shoe. The Sheriff had no idea what shoe size Acton or Junior wore, but, at least, he had some clues to go by.

  It was near suppertime at a little after four p.m. The Sheriff had asked Junior to join him at his office. It was difficult to maneuver around town with all the newspaper guys roaming around and the angry white crowds, but the Sheriff was able to enter through the back of the police station. The Sheriff wanted to find out more about his son’s whereabouts without his son getting defensive. He wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish this goal. Perhaps, he would just have to ask him.

  His son knocked on the door, and the Sheriff indicated for Junior to enter.

  “Hey, Dad, you said that you wanted to see me.”

  “Yes, I wanted to talk to you about the fire. How did it go?”

  “Oh, it went pretty smooth. I got some gasoline. I poured it over the place. Then I made a trail of the gasoline going outside. I made sure no one was around, and I lit it on fire and got the hell out of there. I put the gasoline can in my pickup truck and drove straight home.”

  “Well, good job because no one suspects you. At least, I don’t think anyone suspects you.”

  “What do you mean that you don’t think anyone suspects me?”

  “Well, you know, no one’s mentioned your name or anything.”

  “Why? Do you think the FBI suspects me?”

  “No, I have no idea. I don’t think they got that far yet. They got their heads up their asses.” The Sheriff figured that now was the time to interrogate Junior.

  The Sheriff spoke, “By the way, I’m glad you mentioned it. They are … they’re asking the Judge. They’re asking me. They are suspicious of everyone. So I need to ask you. Where were you when these crimes were committed?”

  “Whoa, Dad, what’re you saying?”

  “I’m not saying anything, Son. I’m just saying that the FBI is going to question you.”

  “Dad, they’ve already have questioned me. I don’t think they’re going to question me again. So what are you saying, Dad?”

  “Ah, Son, the fire changes things.”

  “How?” asked Junior.

  “Well, they questioned the Judge, Son. So, Son, just tell me. So if the FBI asked me, I can tell them.”

  “Okay.”

  “Where were you?” asked the Sheriff.

  “Well, let’s see. On night one, I was in bed, and night two, I was in bed as you know.”

  The Sheriff thought that he didn’t know whether Junior was in bed at the time of either crime. He also noticed that his son was getting a little perturbed with the line of questioning. He would need to set him straight.

  The Sheriff responded. “Don’t get touchy wit
h me, Son. I’m just asking.”

  “I can’t believe that you would think that I would have anything to do with this.”

  “I don’t think that you had anything to do with this, Son, but the FBI is going to ask you.”

  “Dad, I already told you. They’ve already—”

  “Look, just stop this right now. Okay, good job on the fire, good job on the idea. Just watch yourself; the FBI is on to us.”

  “Okay, okay,” replied Junior.

  “Make sure you make it to the KOT meeting tonight. You’ve heard about it, right?”

  “Yes, I did. It’s all anyone is talking about.”

  “Make sure to bring your outfit and hood.”

  “Of course.” replied Junior.

  ~~~~

  After Junior left, the Sheriff remained sitting at his desk in his office contemplating who could have committed these crimes. He was able to get a list of the people who were at the construction site near the end of the day shift. He sat there and reviewed the list. It wasn’t a long list as there were only eight other people apparently working on the site during the time of Leon’s kidnapping. He knew all three of the white people on the list but none of the Negroes. The only white name that jumped out at him was Sam Stage, Billy Stage’s son.

  Hmmm, this was interesting, thought the Sheriff. Both Billy and his son, Sam, were non-citizens of the Klan. Billy was lucky that the Klan allowed him to be the County Coroner, but it wasn’t as if a lot of people were standing in line for the job. Perhaps Sam saw Leon getting kidnapped, and Sam followed them and contacted his father. Maybe it was tag team of father and son who killed the five people.

  The Sheriff didn’t know, but he was impressed with his investigation skills. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad investigator after all.

  The Sheriff figured that he had it narrowed down to the following suspects: Acton, Junior, Sam Stage, Billy Stage, and the remaining names on the list of construction workers. He ruled out Archie because he had an alibi, though it was shaky, he did not have a pickup truck, and he was a tall man. Yes, Archie should be eliminated as a suspect, though the Sheriff.

  He didn’t completely rule out Goldstein, the reporter, and the state trooper, but those were clearly long shots. They would have had to travel very long distances, know what was going to happen, and then be able to roam freely around the town without people noticing them. They were really long shots.