Swift Justice: The Southern Way

by R. P. Wolff

The more the Sheriff thought about it, the more it made more sense that Sam Stage might have done the crime. He probably saw Leon getting kidnapped and felt sympathetic for him. After all, he and his dad were not Klan citizens. They were arguably Negro sympathizers. They probably did it together for all the Sheriff knew. If that was the case, then Billy would have definitely warned his son.

  The Sheriff turned right onto Sam Stage’s street, which was part of the urban area of Dodge County. It was a typical city block with houses positioned fairly close together. The houses looked almost identical. They were one-story ranches made out of aluminum siding. To the side of each house was a long driveway that extended to the rear of the house where the garage faced towards the side of the house to the driveway.

  The Sheriff pulled up to Sam’s house and parked it in front. It was still light out as day-light-savings time wasn’t for a couple of weeks. Bingo! The Sheriff noticed that a pickup truck was parked in the driveway. Apparently, Sam Stage didn’t park his pickup truck in the garage.

  The Sheriff took out his sketch of the tire marks that he made at the first crime scene. Before he called Sam, he would inspect the tires to see if it matched with his makeshift sketch. It was a long shot as his sketch wasn’t even close to being precise.

  Fortunately, no one was on the street, which was odd because usually the streets would be busy with kids playing ball or riding bikes. The Sheriff figured that probably everyone was inside because they were afraid that there was a murderer roaming around. Plus, it was because it was also suppertime, but this gave him the perfect opportunity to check the tire marks on the pickup truck.

  The Sheriff walked quickly to the pickup truck, pulled out his sketch, and dropped to one knee. He started to hold out the paper when he heard Sam’s front door creak open. The Sheriff stopped what he was doing and casually moved the paper to his side in an effort to conceal it.

  “Hey, Sheriff, what are you doing over there?” asked Sam Stage.

  Damn, thought the Sheriff. Can’t he ever get a break? “Oh, hi,” said the Sheriff as if nothing was the matter. “You’re Sam, right … Sam Stage.”

  “Yeah,” replied Sam as he was turning his head in puzzlement.

  “Well, I haven’t seen you in a long time, man. You’ve gotten big.”

  “Well, you probably haven’t seen me since high school.”

  After an awkward silence as the men just stared at each other, Sam said, “So Sheriff, what can I do for you over there?” Sam nodded towards the pickup truck.

  “Oh, nothing … just checking some things out. Um … I came out to talk to you.”

  “Yeah, I just got off the phone with my dad. He said that you had some questions for me.”

  “Yes, I do,” replied the Sheriff.

  “Why don’t you come in the house?”

  “Oh, okay,” replied the Sheriff.

  Sam escorted the Sheriff into the house and the men sat in the front living room. The Sheriff could hear kids playing in the dining area. He could also hear someone in the kitchen.

  “Okay, what can I do for you?” asked Sam.

  “Well, we’re checking out everything. I don’t know if you heard that Leon Brooks claims he was kidnapped at the construction site.”

  “Yeah, I know Leon.”

  “Well, I got a list of the workers at the construction site, and, you know, we’re talking to everyone at the site that worked there on the first night of the murders. I saw that you work there, as well.”

  “Okay,”

  “I was wondering if you could tell me what you saw.”

  “Well … I saw … I was kind of far away. I saw that Leon was carrying a door with John Favors. So I just saw them carrying the door, and they left. And I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, I just kept doing my job. Then, I thought it was a little odd that neither guy came back. I thought that was odd.”

  “What did you do about that?” asked the Sheriff.

  “Well, I really didn’t think twice about it. I mean, I figured it must have been a good reason. Maybe they went somewhere with the door and left. I don’t know.”

  “Well, how long have you been working for them?”

  “I’ve been working for Lucky for a long time. I was hoping that I would eventually become a foreman.” Sam frowned. “But now, that’s out of the question. It’s such a tragedy that those guys were killed. They were good to me. I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

  “Yeah, we’re all hurting with everything that is going on,” replied the Sheriff. “When will it stop?”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. We’re all worried around here.”

  The Sheriff now needed to start asking some serious questions. “Well, I have to ask you a few questions.”

  “Okay.”

  “So the FBI is going around, and they are going to question everyone that worked at the construction site. So I like to get to them first. Has the FBI asked you anything?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, where were you at the time of the murders?” The Sheriff noticed that Sam didn’t flinch at the question. The Sheriff thought this was an odd response. He would have thought that Sam would have been pissed off with such an accusation.

  “Well, I mean, um … I was home. I was sleeping. That’s where I’m at every night.”

  “Okay, do you have any witnesses?” asked the Sheriff. The Sheriff was amazed at how nonchalant Sam was on these type of questions. He did not seem offended in the slightest bit.

  “Ah, yeah, let me call me wife.” Sam yelled in the direction of the kitchen, “Hey, Judy. Judy come over here.”

  Judy rushed into the living room.

  “Why don’t you ask her?” Sam asked the Sheriff.

  The Sheriff now felt awkward asking these probing questions to his wife, but he had to continue. “Yeah, Judy, I was just telling your husband that the FBI is going around asking a lot of questions, and I just wanted to ask these questions before they get to y’all.”

  “Okay,” replied Judy.

  The Sheriff noticed that Judy was not as nonchalant as her husband was, and she seemed real nervous. “On the two nights of the murders, where was your husband?” asked the Sheriff.

  She chuckled before she spoke. “Sheriff, he was in bed with me. In fact, now that I think of it, we were up late on the first night because our little Pete got sick in the middle of the night. He got the flu, and we really haven’t had that much sleep lately. So I remember vividly that he was here on both nights.”

  “Okay, thanks.” The Sheriff believed their story but still wanted some verification. “Um … Sam, I was wondering if I can inspect your tires, so I can rule you out.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Sam.

  “Well, I can’t tell you too much, but there were some tire marks left at the scene. I’m checking various pickup trucks’ tires to see if they match my sketch. Is it okay if I check your tires?”

  “Sure, go ahead. Was that what you were doing when I saw you by the pickup truck earlier?”

  “Yes.”

  “No problem, go ahead.”

  The Sheriff walked out and kneeled down by the front left tire. He took out his sketch, which had distinct tire tread marks on the paper. Plus, it had the width of the tire. A quick review of the tire revealed that it was not a match—not even close. Damn, it looked like Sam was not a viable suspect. He would have to go back to the drawing board.

  ~~~~

  Before they listened to the tapes, Hall and Perry realized that they needed to call their office and give the office a detail update. They were actually late. There were supposed to call in before five p.m., but now it was past six p.m. The FBI was very strict on their deadlines, and Hall and Perry would get a reprimand for this misconduct.

  Perry volunteered to call. “I’ll call the SAC.” Perry dialed the number. After going through the SAC’s receptionists, the SAC answered the phone.

  “Special agent in charge, Joe Taylor, how can I help you,” the SAC said.<
br />
  Joe Taylor was the Special Agent in Charge of the Austin FBI office. He was several layers above both Hall and Perry’s rank. It was extremely unusual for them to communicate directly with the SAC. Normally, they would report directly to either the Senior Special Agent or the Supervisory Special Agent. It was very intimidating to deal directly with such a high-level official. To make matters worse, they were late on the call.

  “Mr. Taylor, it’s Special Agent, Andrew Perry.”

  “Where the fuck are you guys?” asked the Joe Taylor. “It’s late; you’re supposed to call at five.”

  Apparently, the SAC didn’t mince words. “I know, we got tied up,” replied Perry. He shrugged to Hall and mouthed the words: “We’re in trouble.”

  “Y’all have created a mess down there. What the fuck is going on?”

  “Well, a lots going on,” Perry said defensively.

  “Yeah, I know. I heard about the other murders, the fire, and I heard that the Texas National Guard is ready to come down.”

  “How did you hear about that?” asked Perry.

  “Well, it’s on the wire, guys. Come on, we hear things.”

  Perry was amazed with modern technology. He never understood how that wire system worked. Perry got his news, like most people, from the newspaper. Sometimes he would listen to the news on the radio or even on television sometimes, but he preferred the newspaper. But with the pace of things happening in the crazy town of Dodge County, a newspaper was too slow. The newswire was much more current.

  “Well, maybe you know more than we do,” said Perry.

  “I better not.”

  Perry regretted saying that as soon as it left his mouth. What a stupid thing to say. Suggesting that the SAC knew more than him, while he was on site, was preposterous. A stupid comment like that could get him off the case.

  “Okay, tell me what you got,” said Taylor.

  Perry sighed heavily. “Well, we got a lot. We have some exciting news. Um … I’m not sure where to start.” Perry was off his game because the SAC through him off with the SAC’s insults.

  Taylor interrupted Perry before Perry could continue. “Oh, by the way, we are sending in reinforcements. I already dispatched them, and they’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “Why are you doing that? We got everything under control.” Oops, Perry realized that he kind of disrespected the SAC. The FBI was very sensitive to following the proper ranks. The FBI did not take lightly when a junior agent disrespected a higher official.

  “No you don’t,” Taylor snapped back. “You are going to need some help. It’s just the two of you. This thing is out of control.”

  “Well just hear us out, Mr. Taylor.”

  “Okay,” replied Taylor.

  “Okay, we got some developments on the Klan,” Perry said excitedly. “That Atwood Baker guy … you know, he’s the judge of the Supreme—”

  “Yeah, I know him,” Taylor interrupted. “He’s been on our list for years. He’s the chief justice of the Texas Supreme Court. What about him?”

  “Well, we may have an informant that might come forward and give him up. He kind of already has given him up.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Taylor.

  “Well, we got him on tape, but we haven’t listened to the tape yet. But he has kind of admitted that this Atwood Baker and the Sheriff ordered the hits on the two black guys.”

  “Wow,” Taylor said in shock and disbelief. “That would be great.”

  “Well, I spoke to him, and he didn’t exactly admit it, but then I left the tape underneath the hospital bed. Right after I left, the Sheriff spoke to him. We’re dying to hear what the Sheriff said to him. Anyway, I set the trap for the guy, and he might be calling our office with some information. This whole town is corrupt.”

  “Wow, this is great. Okay, why don’t you guys keep going until your reinforcements get there tomorrow? Any developments on who did the murders?”

  “No, nothing significant, but we haven’t listened to our tapes yet. Hall thinks that the fact that only one set of victims was kicked is significant, but he can’t pin it down.”

  “Okay, I’m sure you have a lot to say, but just keep logging everything down and give me a full report when you are done.”

  “Okay,” replied Perry.

  “Keep up the good work, guys,” said Taylor, and then he abruptly hung up the phone.

  Perry was pleasantly surprised at the ending compliment. Perry hung up the phone.

  Hall spoke in a panic, “Shit, you guys said too much. The hotel owner may have been listening in.”

  “Fuck, I didn’t think of that,” replied Perry.

  “These SACs are rarely in the field,” said Hall. “They never even consider whether someone would be listening in.”

  Perry sighed in frustration. “Oh well, maybe it isn’t such a bad thing if they heard. Maybe it will rattle the Klan.”

  “I don’t know,” said Hall. “I don’t like it.”

  Jim Bellow, the hotel owner, sat in his office. He had just listened to the whole conversation.

  He would need to report this immediately.

  Chapter 26

  Jim Bellow was frantic. He had to tell the Klan about the information he just learned. This would be good for him as he had aspirations for moving up the ranks in the Klan. This discovery could overshadow the fact that he allowed a nigger to stay at this hotel. He would be the laughing stock of jokes for letting a nigger stay at his hotel, so he had to get this information to Klan, preferably, before they found out about the niggers staying in his hotel.

  He tried the Sheriff first, but he was not at the police station or his house. He was tempted to call the Judge, but it was not normal to contact the Judge directly as he demanded secrecy. Bellow wasn’t at a high enough level to call him directly, but he could call Acton, who was very approachable.

  He called the barbershop, and Acton came to the phone. “Hello,” said Acton.

  “Mr. Cox, this is Jim Bellow, from the Walnut Hill Lane Hotel.”

  “Yes, what can I do for you?” asked Acton.

  “Well, I have some big news for you. The FBI is staying at my hotel, and I heard that they have an informant.”

  “What do you mean informant?”

  “They have an informant that said that the Judge and the Sheriff ordered the hits on the Negroes.”

  “No,” Acton said in disbelief. “Who’s the informant?”

  “Well, I believe it is Paulie Sawyer.”

  “What makes you think it is Paulie?”

  “Well, they describe the informant as a guy who was in the hospital. Who do we know that is in the hospital? It has to be Paulie.”

  “Holy Shit! You’re kidding. Well, what did they say?”

  “They have a tape of Paulie that they hid underneath his hospital bed, and the Sheriff went in there and spoke to Paulie. They gave Paulie a phone number to call the FBI, so I just thought I would let you know.”

  “How did you find out about this?”

  Jim Bellow did not want to tell Acton that he could listen in on phone conversations at his hotel. “I just overheard them.”

  “Oh.”

  Jim could tell that Acton didn’t believe him. Acton probably figured out that he listened in to the call. Oh well, thought Jim, it wasn’t the end of the world if he figured it out.

  Acton continued. “Hey, thank you very much. Um, are you going to the KOT meeting tonight?”

  “Of course, I’m going to the KOT meeting.”

  “Okay, this is important news. I’ll get right on it. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad to help,” replied Jim.

  “Hey, if you see Paulie, you call me right away. Okay?”

  ~~~~

  It was near sundown, and the Sheriff sped his patrol car to the barbershop. An emergency, impromptu meeting was called for the key Klan leaders to meet at the barbershop. The Sheriff found out about the meeting when he called the Judge to update the Judge on the latest events. T
he Judge wasn’t home, but the Judge’s wife told the Sheriff that the guys were meeting at the barbershop.

  The Sheriff finally arrived and only saw Acton’s and the Judge’s cars parked outside. He quickly walked into the barbershop and headed straight to the back room. Acton and the Judge immediately stood up and waved the Sheriff over to their table. They looked as if they were in a panic, observed the Sheriff.

  “What’s up guys?” asked the Sheriff.

  Acton spoke. “Sit down. We got another major problem.”

  The Sheriff sat down. “Oh shit, what is it now?” asked the Sheriff.

  “We got some updates for you,” said Acton. “However, before I update you, what the fuck were you doing harassing my wife, motherfucker?”

  “Whoa, calm down, Acton. I didn’t harass your wife. I’m checking with everyone that the FBI could possibly question.”

  “Bullshit, she’s fuckin’ pissed off.”

  “Acton, I swear, I wasn’t harassing her. Shit, if you consider this harassment, wait until the FBI starts questioning.” The Sheriff needed to change the subject quickly. “Wait, where’s the rest of the guys?” asked the Sheriff. “Where’s my son and Archie?”

  “We couldn’t get a hold of them. We don’t have time.”

  “Okay, what’s up?” asked the Sheriff.

  The Judge spoke. “You’re right about Paulie. He’s a fuckin’ problem.”

  “I know that,” said the Sheriff.

  “He’s an informant for the FBI,” said the Judge.

  “Na,” said the Sheriff.

  “Yeah, he is. He’s talk to the FBI.”

  “Well, I suspected it,” said the Sheriff. The Sheriff wanted to remind the men, especially the Judge, that he was already on to Paulie.

  “What exactly did you say to Paulie at the hospital?” asked the Judge.

  “Why?” asked the Sheriff.

  “Because they taped your whole conversation,” said Acton.

  “What do you mean, I’m on tape?” asked the Sheriff.

  Acton continued, “You’re on tape. Everything you said to Paulie is on tape.”

  “How did you find out about this?” asked the Sheriff.

  “Jim Bellow, the owner of the Walnut Hill Lane Hotel, told us,” replied Acton.