Valley of Hope: The Amish of Lancaster

by Sarah Price

  The door flew open and a man in a black suit walked through it, bellowing “Enough!” He was a middle-aged man with thick brown hair and glasses perched on his nose. From his expression, Samuel knew that he was not happy at the present moment. “Dave Snyder, representing Samuel Lapp here. Unless you have read him his rights, I suggest that you stop questioning my client and let me take him home. The boy has not done anything and you have no right to detain him.”

  Officer Reilly rolled his eyes. “He’s a flight risk. He fled once already.”

  “Allegedly fled,” Dave snapped back.

  “I want to go home,” Samuel said. He stared at the lawyer, begging the stranger with his eyes. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what they are talking about.”

  “Quiet!” Dave shot back, none too kindly. Then, turning his attention back to the officers, he tilted his chin and motioned to the door. “I’d like a word with both of you in private, if you don’t mind.”

  Samuel watched as the three men disappeared through the door, a freedom he had never thought twice about before. Coming and going from any room was never something he had questioned. But now, he knew that he was simply not permitted to leave on his own free will.

  He tried to piece together what had happened. It was obvious that the three boys had gotten into trouble. There must have been an accident from the looks of Peter and Jacob. But Paul had been photographed in a hospital bed. He was still alive. If only Samuel knew what had happened so that he could explain that he had been on his way back to see Mary Ruth.

  Once again, seconds passed turning into minutes. Before long, Samuel imagined that at least half an hour had gone by. Surely it was close to four in the morning now…maybe even five. He couldn’t keep track of time but he knew that, between the ride back to Philadelphia and the hours of waiting, it was certainly early morning.

  The door opened again and Dave walked in. He set his briefcase on the table and sat down opposite Samuel. For a moment, he didn’t speak. He seemed to be taking in the situation and studying Samuel.

  “Two of your friends were killed, Samuel. A car accident. The third one is in critical condition at the hospital. He might live. He might not.” He paused, waiting for Samuel’s reaction. When he realized that there wasn’t going to be a reaction, he took a deep breath. “Someone claims that there was a fourth man, an Amish man, who drove the car away.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Samuel said, his voice flat. He didn’t like talking to strangers and Dave Snyder was certainly not warm and fuzzy. His directness frightened Samuel more than the officers.

  “They said there were three men at the accident scene but no one was behind the driver seat,” Dave stated flatly. “An eyewitness saw a man in a hat walk away.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Samuel repeated, his voice a soft whisper.

  “They have circumstantial evidence at best,” Dave agreed. “But you are going to have to prove your story. Do you have an alibi?”

  “A what?”

  Dave sighed. “An alibi. Someone who can swear that you were not there.”

  “Amish don’t take oaths or swear,” Samuel said.

  This time, Dave rolled his eyes. “Is there anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts?”

  Samuel shrugged. “I was on a train. It broke down. It was late pulling into Lancaster and then I took a cab.”

  Dave cocked his head. “Do you have a credit card receipt?”

  “Don’t have a credit card,” he stated. “I paid cash.”

  Again, Dave seemed to become irritated. “Do you have anything to prove that you were on that train? A ticket stub? A receipt for paying cash?”

  A wave of fear washed over Samuel. He didn’t have any of those things. After all, why would he need a receipt or stub? “No,” he replied solemnly.

  Once again, Dave sighed. “Your brother-in-law’s going to owe me for this one.”

  Samuel looked up. “Jake?”

  “Of course!” Dave snapped. “I wouldn’t be here for anyone else, I’ll tell you that. Not at this hour in the morning and not for something so…” He hesitated as if searching for the word. “Impossible.”

  “It’s not impossible,” Samuel pleaded. “I wasn’t there. I went home to see Mary Ruth, to ask her to court me. I was giving up my rumschpringe. I didn’t like what I saw in Philadelphia.”

  Dave rubbed his hand over his face. He looked tired and worn. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to force them to either charge you or release you. Jake is waiting outside for you and will take you home, given the likelihood that you’ll be released. But you better not run.”

  “Run where?”

  “Anywhere! You stay put at your parents’ farm.”

  Samuel exhaled. “That’s all I want to do. Stay put.”

  “I don’t think you understand, Samuel.” Dave leaned forward and lowered his voice. “If you are charged with vehicular manslaughter, you’ll face jail time. We need proof that you weren’t there and you are not offering me much, especially given the fact that we have your name on a motel registry and two eyewitnesses that you were at the scene.”

  “Paul will know,” Samuel offered meekly.

  “Your friend Paul is clinging to life,” Dave retorted and stood up. “You Amish like to pray? Pray for that boy to recover and vouch for your story. Until that time, your future is about as iffy as a lottery ticket.” He turned and walked toward the door. “I’ll be back and let you know if I can get the officers to release you into Jake’s care.”

  Once the lawyer left the room, Samuel lowered his head into his hands. He couldn’t understand what was happening or why. How could the police have taken him from his home? How could a witness have claimed that he was not only there but driving? Samuel tried to replay what had happened over the weekend, feeling as though he was going crazy. For the first time in a long while, he had tried to do the right thing but it had backfired and he had been accused of driving a car, killing his friends, and leaving the scene of a crime…all the while he had been innocently on a train, trying to get back to declare his intentions to Mary Ruth by picking her up from the Sunday evening singing. How could so much go wrong in such a short period of time?

  Chapter Fifteen

  The drive back to Leola from Philadelphia was quiet. Jake didn’t ask questions and Samuel was grateful for that. He sank into the back seat of the car and shut his eyes, praying his thanks to God for having saved him from the clutches of the Englischer laws, even if only temporarily.

  He still didn’t understand what had transpired this evening. Everything felt so surreal; as if he was floating above his own body, watching the events unfold. From the conversation he had with Mary Ruth which had sent him into a star-struck tail spin to the bright lights of the police cars at his parents house which had brought him back to reality, to the time he had spent at the Philadelphia police station which had sank him into a living nightmare, nothing seemed to make much sense.

  The driver was pulling off the main highway when Samuel finally turned to Jake. “What happens now, Jake?”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t know, Samuel. You have ventured into a part of the Englische world that I have never really experienced,” he said softly. Despite his own dealings with lawyers, police, and other officials after the death of his wife, it was true that Jake had never been in trouble with the law. He wasn’t certain how this would play out, especially given that the prime suspect was an Amish youth.

  But Jake also knew that the Englischers’ legal system wouldn’t care whether Samuel was Amish or not. Laws were laws and, once broken, everyone had to answer to the American court. He just prayed that the young man in the hospital recovered and could answer some questions that would clear Samuel’s name. And he was glad that he had been able to reach his friend, Dave. He had called him from the telephone shanty, waking him up from a deep sleep. But Dave hadn’t hesitated to volunteer to come right away, despite living sixty miles from Philadelphia. Anything for an old
friend, he had said to Jake.

  During that time, Jake had found a taxi that would take him to the police station. By the time he got there, Dave had already arrived and was inside with the police officers. Jake could hear his friend’s voice, loud and demanding, citing laws for holding suspects without reading them their rights. He could hear Dave explaining the concept of holding an Amish man and how the news media would jump all over the officers if they didn’t let Samuel return home. In the long run, Dave’s boisterous attitude had won Samuel his freedom, at least temporarily.

  Now, as they headed home, Jake knew that he was the only bridge that Samuel had between the two worlds. The Amish were able to navigate the laws of the Englische because, for the most part, their ways did not conflict. The Amish also had their own laws within their community that they followed as a collective group. Now that the two words had collided, his wife’s family would look to him for answers and explanations; and, given his own experience with the legal system, he knew that the process could be long and drawn out. There was never an easy ending to these situations.

  “Answer me one question, Samuel, and I’ll never ask it again,” Jake asked, breaking the silence that had befallen them. “Were you there?”

  “No!” Samuel proclaimed, his voice sharp and strong. “I was so disgusted by Paul’s drunkenness and Jacob and Peter’s behavior that I left as soon as the sun rose on Sunday morning. All I could think of was coming home,” he said, his voice desperate for Jake’s support. “You have to believe me. I was not there when that accident happened.”

  Satisfied that his brother-in-law was telling the truth, Jake took a deep breath and nodded his head. “Ja vell,” he said, hoping to alleviate some of Samuel’s fears. “Then everything should get cleared up soon enough, I imagine. It sure would be helpful if that Paul would come out of his coma and confirm your story.”

  Samuel had been so caught up in his own problems that he hadn’t really inquired about Paul. “He’s in a coma?”

  “Ja,” Jake nodded. “It was a head-on collision. The car crossed the median and ran into a van.”

  “A van?” Samuel gasped. Vans carried lots of people. Often, when the Amish were traveling great distances to visit family, they rented vans. “Was anyone in it? Was anyone..?” he paused, unable to actually say the word.

  Jake shook his head. “Injured? Yes. Killed? No.”

  “This is unbelievable,” Samuel mumbled, lean against the back of the seat. “I just don’t understand.”

  “The van driver was knocked out but a passenger claims she saw an Amish looking fellow driving the car, get out of it, and leave the scene,” Jake said. “When the police and ambulances arrived, there were only three people in that car. Well,” he hesitated. “Peter had been tossed out of the vehicle and was found on the side of the road.”

  “Then he could have been driving!” Samuel exclaimed.

  Jake took a deep breath and nodded. “Sounds logical but for the witness. Jacob and Paul are not Amish.”

  Samuel digested this news for a few minutes, still trying to make sense of what had happened. Nothing made sense to him. Suddenly, his heart began to pound inside of his chest and his blood felt as though it was on fire. If none of this made sense to him, what would his family think? Mary Ruth? The community?

  “Samuel?”

  He looked at his brother-in-law. His eyes were wide and frightened against his pale skin. The color had drained from his face. “Jake, what will everyone believe?”

  “Now that,” Jake started slowly, being careful to select his words. “I can’t answer, Samuel. I don’t know for certain.” He paused. “I do know that you’ve been towing a loose line recently. You’ve been hanging out with those boys, staying out all night, missing work, sleeping through service. One thing I do know is that people like to think the worse about others.”

  “The worse meaning that they’ll think I actually did this? I killed those boys and just walked away?” Samuel couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  Jake nodded his head. “I’m not going to sugar coat it, Sam. You will have a lot of explaining to do and pray that the truth comes out in support of your story.”

  “Mary Ruth…” he said, letting the sentence hang unfinished between them.

  “That’s the trouble with running with the wrong crowd, Samuel,” Jake replied, his words careful and short. “When they go down, they tend to take you with them.”

  “She has to know that it isn’t true!” His voice sounded panic-stricken.

  Jake laid a hand on his youngest brother-in-law’s shoulders. “Now, calm down, Samuel. As of right now, no one knows what happened tonight. The word will spread, that’s for certain. There are three very unhappy families in Leola today. We have to remember that two of your friends died in that accident and the third one is hanging on by a thread.”

  “He has to live,” Samuel whispered to himself.

  “That’s up to God, not you and your wishes,” Jake pointed out.

  “I need to go to their families, make certain they know the truth!” Samuel said, an urgency in his voice.

  But Jake brought him back to reality. “You need to get home, get yourself some much needed sleep, then sit down with your daed and figure out what to say to the bishop.”

  Samuel frowned. “The…bishop?” Jake’s statement confused him. Why would he want to get the bishop involved?

  “Oh yes,” Jake replied firmly. “The sooner you get the bishop involved, the better for you, your family, and your future.”

  “I just don’t believe any of this is happening,” he said, shaking his head and leaning it against the back of the car seat. How could so much have gone so wrong?

  The car was pulling into his parents’ driveway. Jake laid a hand on Samuel’s shoulders. “Unfortunately, you need to get past that, Samuel, for this is, indeed, really happening.” He gave Samuel a reassuring smile as the car came to a stop. “Now, you get on out and spend some time with your parents. Tell them what has happened. Tell them your story. Then sleep. I’ll be back later when I’ve finished my chores and had a good long nap. I’m also going to check in with that lawyer.”

  “Dave?”

  “Ja, Dave Snyder. An old friend of mine from my Englischer days. He owed me a few favors, that’s for certain. Reckon that score will be settled before this situation clears up.” Jake motioned toward the farmhouse. “Now, go into the house and follow my advice. You won’t be any good to yourself or that lawyer if you don’t get some sleep.”

  Samuel nodded and exited the car. He stared at the white farmhouse and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to go inside, too ashamed at the predicament that he had found himself in. But he knew that he had nowhere else to go and Jake’s advice sounded good enough, that was for sure and certain. Talk, eat, and sleep. He just prayed that his family would support him, believe his story and stand by his side.

  Chapter Sixteen

  By Monday afternoon, the bishop and two ministers were standing in Jonas and Katie’s kitchen, waiting for Samuel to come downstairs. Word had started to spread throughout the community about the death of Jacob Miller and Peter Bartlett. Whispered with that news was the speculation that Samuel Lapp had been involved, perhaps even the driver of the vehicle. And with that, the bishop and ministers descended upon the Lapp farm to offer support for Katie and Jonas. But, more than that, they wanted to meet with Samuel and find out what had happened.

  Samuel was groggy when his father woke him in the early evening. He ran his fingers through his hair and followed his daed down the stairs, his heart heavy and pounding inside of his chest. He prayed that the bishop would believe him.

  The three men were standing in the kitchen, dressed in their Sunday suits. Their black suits, black vests, and black pants seemed even more austere, considering it wasn’t even Sunday. Bishop Peachey stared at Samuel as he entered the room, his shoulders slumped forward and his eyes trying to avoid contact with the bishop.

  Samuel couldn’
t help glancing around the kitchen. His father stood by the window, his back toward Samuel. He seemed to be staring outside. And then Samuel saw his mother. Immediately, he felt his pulse quicken. She had seemed to age overnight. Her face was pinched and drawn, with dark circles under her eyes. She sat at the table, her hands folded on her lap and her mouth moving in a silent prayer.

  “Samuel,” the bishop said, his voice deep and stern. “A most disturbing story has come to my attention.”

  Samuel lifted his chin and met the bishop’s gaze. “I wasn’t there, Bishop.”

  “Two young men are dead, Samuel. Another is in the hands of God.”

  “I am aware of that,” Samuel murmured.

  Bishop Peachey took a deep breath. “The story is circulating that you were the one driving the automobile.”