by Londyn Skye
Without pulling his lowered eyes away from Jesse, Clemens motioned his head toward the two strange men behind him, still sitting on their horses. “Those two drifta’s ova yonda’ come ‘a lookin’ f’ur me before dawn to tell me they rode up on four dead bodies in the woods.” The sheriff peered over Jesse’s shoulder again. “Looks to me like James might still have a bit ‘a air left in his lungs afta’ all. But those otha’ three fuckers are deader’n turkies on Thanksgivin’ Day.” The sheriff finally pulled his eyes away from Jesse and turned in a circle to look at everybody again, easily sensing their tension. “My best educated guess is that y’all know who killed all them poor fuckers and why the hell they did it. Anybody wanna save me some trouble and fess up now?”
Silence.
“If none ‘a y’all wanna talk, I’ll be glad to lock every one of ya’ up ’til I get a fuckin’ answa’.”
Silence.
“Have it your way,” Clemens responded, motioning to his deputies to start handcuffing everyone. He turned to glare at Jesse again with a wicked smirk on his face. He marched over, slapped the cuffs on him, more than happy to personally escort him to jail.
James had Sheriff Clemens and those two drifters to thank for the fact that he was able to maintain the little oxygen that remained in his lungs. Their early morning find spared James from the torturous show that his father was about to put on in the midst of his blinding rage. However, Clemens’ intervention would eventually lead James to suffer a far different, far more public and salacious form of torture.
Chapter Two
The Underground Railroad:
A network of secret routes and safe houses established to help
enslaved Negroes escape to free states.
“James Adams, on this fifteenth day of May, eighteen-hundred and sixty, you’re bein’ charged with felony first-degree murda’ of Willard McKinley, Jethro Blankenship, and Jeb McClintock. You are also charged with the assault of Duke Dixon as well as felony violation of slave code article three, section eight, grand theft of a slave, felony violation of slave code article five, section two, intermarrying with a Negro, felony violation of slave code article one, section six, education of a Negro, and felony violation of slave code article five, section seven, impregnatin’ a Negro. Do you fully unda’stand the charges bein’ brought before you here today?”
“Yes, your honor,” James replied, standing before the judge with shackles on his wrists and ankles.
“How do you plead?”
“Not guilty.”
“Your trial is set to begin Monday, September tenth. Court is adjourned.” The judge banged his gavel and the murmuring amongst all the people in the pews of Fayetteville’s district court resumed. As soon as those stunned patrons stepped outside, the shocking news of the James Adams’ murder trial began to spread like a sensational wildfire.
Prior to that plea hearing, most citizens of Fayetteville knew nothing about the allegations against James. Even the families of the three men murdered had yet to be told who the alleged killer may be. After being found in the woods in such bad shape, Sheriff Clemens had the decency to send James to a prison infirmary to recover from a bullet wound, concussion, and fractured bones in his ribs and eye socket. Clemens refused to press any charges against James until he had the wherewithal to answer questions about the case without losing consciousness throughout the process. Decent recovery had taken him nearly three weeks. During that time, Jesse and his posse were questioned and quickly released from jail after it was determined that they were nowhere near the scene of the crime that night. However, James and Duke remained in Clemens’ custody since it was clear that they were the only two present during the murders. They would have been transferred to a Fayetteville jail after that, but there was confusion about which town the murder had actually taken place and which jurisdiction should preside over the trial. Knowing that James did not stand a chance of having a fair trial in Fayetteville, Clemens had fought hard to have the case heard in his jurisdiction. He was, therefore, livid over a judge’s ultimate decision to have the trial take place in Fayetteville. He felt as though he had failed James again in giving him a fighting chance at true justice.
Clemens was not the only one upset about the trial being moved to Fayetteville. Jesse had demanded that his brethren remain tight-lipped about the abominable acts his son had committed. He did not want the humiliating news tainting his family name. So he, too, was fuming over the fact that James was dragged back to their hometown and paraded into the district court in front of a town full of people that had known them their whole lives. With his son’s sinful secrets now spewing like vomit out of the gossip-happy mouths of every Fayetteville citizen, Jesse sentenced himself to imprisonment on his own farm. He rarely left his home and saved himself the shame of being shunned.
While James lay ailing in the prison infirmary, Griff set out on a feverish search for him and Lily. He wrote a letter to William and Landon in Manhattan, stating that James and Lily had failed to show at any of the tradeoff points. By the time William read the letter, Griff and two other bandits were already making their way south through every city along the planned escape route, not knowing that they had passed right through the town where James was recovering. Along the way, Griff and the bandits met up with Elijah, who was waiting patiently at his assigned relay point so as not to raise any suspicion about his devious deeds at Samuel’s assigned location. Elijah played his role well, even feigning concern about the fact that Samuel was missing. Once he was confident that his tracks had been covered, he lied and told the group he would start searching for James and Lily at Underground Railroad locations as he made his way back to Manhattan. With his dirty secrets in tow, Elijah parted ways with Griff and the bandits a few days before they arrived in Fayetteville.
Once in Fayetteville, Griff and his men spent a few days inconspicuously trying to find out information on James and Lily’s whereabouts. Griff and the bandits watched Jesse’s house and even sat for hours in taverns eavesdropping on conversations. But news of the murder trial had yet to make it to the ears of Fayetteville’s residents, so nary a word about James was mentioned. They even saw Jesse at a pub, but he did nothing but sit silently sipping his gin like all was normal.
Before leaving Fayetteville altogether, Griff finally got bold and snuck onto Jesse’s plantation while he was gone. He quickly made his way into the slave quarters where several female slaves were getting ready to head out to the fields. The sudden appearance of a brooding man, dressed in all black with two pistols hanging from his hips, immediately stopped every slave in their tracks. Griff had stayed on the outskirts while guarding the perimeter during James and Lily’s wedding ceremony, so none of them recalled who he was. With mouths agape and wide eyes, they just stared at him in silence.
“I don’t mean anybody any harm,” Griff said to them. He had both his hands raised, trying to ease the tension he felt after startling everyone. “My name’s Griff. I’m a friend of James and Lily’s. Do any of y’all have any idea where they might ‘a went?” Griff scanned all the brown faces staring silently back at him. “This is real important,” Griff continued when he got no reply. “Did Lily mention anything about where she might be goin’?”
After the massacre the slaves had witnessed the day James escaped with Lily, they were reluctant to even talk about Lily’s tragedy amongst themselves, let alone with an odd-looking man who was a stranger. Jesse had already beaten several of them while demanding answers to Lily’s whereabouts. The effect it had on them was literally still on many of their faces and was a painful reminder that the consequences of discussing their master’s business would be brutal.
With painful lessons still figuratively and literally ingrained in her head, an older slave finally spoke up. “We don’t know nothin’, mista’,” she stated sternly.
Griff looked into her eyes and easily sensed her fear. More importantly, though, he sensed she knew something that she was not willing to share. “Please, if
any of ya’ know anything, you’ll be helpin’ Lily. I promise ya’.”
The older lady shook her head. “We don’t know nothin’, mista’,” she insisted again.
Griff suddenly looked around and noted the bruises, busted lips, and black eyes that Jesse had given to a few of them. He then realized he was staring at the reason he would never get an answer out of anybody standing there. “Sorry to botha’ y’all. Thank ya’ anyway,” he finally said. He tipped his black Stetson and quickly made his way off the property.
All the slaves curiously watched him leave and then headed out into the fields. The older woman who had spoken to Griff scurried into the house to speak to Corrina. She entered through the kitchen door in a panic. “Corrina, I think Jesse tryna test us,” she announced.
Corrina stopped doing dishes and turned around. “Why you say that?”
“He done already beat half of us for claimin’ we don’t know where Lily is. Now, I think he done sent some strange man here to see if he can get us to talk.”
“Hell, that don’t sound like Jesse at all. He don’t send nobody to do his dirty work. That evil bastard takes too much pleasure in doin’ the task himself.”
“True.”
“What’d the man say?”
“Said his name was Griff. Claimed he was a friend ‘a James and Lily’s. Said it’s important that he finds out where they are.”
“Griff?” Corrina instantly had a flashback of Lily calling out that name as she hugged a man at the wedding.
“Yeah, scary lookin’ white man, dressed in all black with…”
“His mustache twisted down on the sides,” Corrina finished.
The older slave looked at Corrina oddly. “You know ’em?”
“Yes! And so does Lily!” Corrina suddenly bolted from the house and took off running toward the plantation gates.
After recalling Lily’s reaction to seeing Griff, Corrina was confident that she could trust him with knowledge of James and Lily’s botched escape. She especially wanted to tell him what she happened to overhear the evening before. As she was fixing dinner, J.R. had come by to tell Jesse that James’s murder case was being moved to Fayetteville. Jesse flew into a rage over the fact that the town would soon hear about his son impregnating a slave, something that angered him far more than the fact that James was accused of murder. Corrina was now desperate to get all that information to Griff, hoping that it would aid in his search for Lily. At the very least, she wanted him to know James’s whereabouts. She screamed Griff’s name repeatedly as she ran toward the plantation entrance as fast as her legs would carry her. But her efforts proved to be in vain. By the time she reached the fence, she could see nothing but the dust kicked up from Griff’s horse.
After his frustrating search, Griff made his way out of Fayetteville. He hoped James and Lily had just changed their minds about going to the Old World and had intentionally vanished without a trace. Griff figured neither scenario was likely, but he preferred to believe that over the thought that Lily may have suffered an unspeakable fate at the hands of her master.
Had Griff stayed in Fayetteville just a few more days, he would have learned exactly where James was, as well as the story being told about him that was now being spread through the town like debris in a tornado:
FAYETTEVILLE DAILY CHRONICLE
Wednesday May 16, 1860
Charismatic town doctor or cold-blooded murder?
That’s the question Fayetteville residents are asking themselves this morning. Lifelong resident and new community doctor, James Adams, was charged with second-degree murder yesterday. Dr. Adams, along with Fayetteville resident, Duke Dixon, are being held without bond for the death of Willard McKinley, Jeb McClintock, and Jethro Blankenship. All three men were gunned down back on April seventeenth of this year, each leaving behind a wife and children. The motive for Dr. Adams actions are said to have stemmed from a dispute with his father, Jesse Adams, over a slave that Dr. Adams allegedly stole and impregnated. Dr. Adams’ attorney argues that the murders were self-defense. Duke Dixon has admitted to being present when the crimes were committed but claims to have played no part in the murders. Dixon is being charged for false imprisonment, assault, and the attempted murder of Dr. Adams. Both men will be tried separately with Dr. Adams’ case beginning September tenth of this year. Dixon is set to testify in Dr. Adams upcoming trial. No trial date has been set for Mr. Dixon thus far.
No trial was needed for the gossip-happy folks of Fayetteville, though. They already had a verdict in the case of Dr. Jameson Michael Adams, thanks in part to a woman scorned who was still raging with vengeful desires. Just hours after hearing about James’s indictment, Mary Jo Parker began concocting a story about him that would eventually land her a role as the prosecution’s lead character witness.
Even without the rampant gossip and Mary Jo slandering his name with her salacious story, James knew he needed a damn good defense attorney in a town like Fayetteville. Being as cryptic as possible, he wrote a brief letter to Harrison at his law firm’s address, using the playful nickname his fraternity brothers had given him as a funny play on words for being a rower, among other things, while at school.
I’m in desperate need of your help. Please come as soon as possible to the Fayetteville, Virginia prison. On my behalf, will you please contact the only other person who can help me in a very dire situation. Please ask if they will come as well.
Sincerely,
Southern pretty boy
After signing the fraternity nickname James was given, he sealed the envelope and wrote only Harrison’s law firm address on it. He then handed it to the prison guard, praying that Harrison or William, or both, would quickly come to his aid. He was wise enough to refrain from mailing a letter directly to William, not wanting to make known the address where Lily might possibly be.
Before ever sending that letter, the judge had already assigned James to an attorney. Mason Rockefeller was Fayetteville’s finest public defender … and well-known to every judge in the judicial system for having very particular prejudices. Mason was not a Ghost Rider, but if it was not for his high-profile job, he would undoubtedly be a regular attendee at their late-night Negro “barbeques.” Mason especially hated those who educated or fornicated with slaves. The judge in James’s case was well-aware of that fact when he “coincidentally” assigned him to James. After just one interaction with Mason, James began to feel hesitant about speaking to him. Mason had a way of coming off professional while simultaneously scolding James with his eyes and condescending verbiage. When Mason’s disgust became brutally evident while obsessively questioning the details of his involvement with Lily, James immediately ceased talking. He began to suspect that his attorney client relationship was going to be anything but a privilege. He went back to his cell and wrote yet another letter to Harrison, a man whose loyalty and trust was as solid as the bars surrounding him.
In his second letter, James cryptically asked Harrison to get in touch with William again. He was desperate to know if Lily had made it to Manhattan alive. That knowledge alone would have given him some semblance of peace while he sat idly by in prison waiting for his trial. He thought to write a letter to Gideon, hoping maybe he would update him, but felt it was best not to have any evidence that would incriminate him for his involvement in Lily’s theft. He preferred to wait and ask Harrison to speak to Gideon in secret on his behalf. With his letters sent, James had nothing else to do but wait … and think of Lily and Rose obsessively. Rose, Lily. Lily, Rose. They inundated his mind along with all the things he could have done differently that would have kept Lily on the path to her dreams and their daughter still growing and thriving. Tortured by his mistakes, James slowly felt his sanity slipping away.
Losing hope, his mind, and his patience, James began to write letters every day to Harrison. Waiting for a reply from him made the anticipation of daily mail delivery just as much torture as his obsessive thoughts. But the only thing the postman ever delivered to Ja
mes was a daily push toward the cliffs of insanity. Death threats and letters expressing joy that James would soon burn in hell were plentiful, but not a single shred of mail from his loyal friend was ever received.
Finally, though, after weeks with no reply by letter from William or Harrison, James heard five precious words he had been dying to hear. “Adams, ya’ got a visitor,” he was told by a prison guard.
James hopped out of his cot at lightning speed. “Who is it?”
The guard opened the cell and put James’s shackles on in silence. He grabbed his arm and nudged him forward when he was finished. James’s heart nearly pounded its way out of his chest as he was marched through the corridors towards the visitor’s quarters. He was praying he was being led to Harrison or William. However, the person he saw sitting at the visitor’s table was one he never would have expected.
The guard pushed James down into a chair and shackled his hands to the table across from his visitor. “Carolyn,” James nodded, greeting Gideon’s young wife. “A-are you alright?” he asked after noting her red eyes and the handkerchief in her shaky hand that was moist with her tears.
Carolyn dabbed at her eyes and then looked directly at James. “Wh-what did you do to h-him?” she asked, sniffling.
“To whom?”
“My husband!” she fired back, clearly upset.
“Carolyn, I’m sorry, but I don’t unda’stand what you mean.”
“You were the last one to see ’em! He would neva’ just run off and leave our son this way! You must’ve done somethin’ to ’em!”