by Londyn Skye
Mason’s brilliant scholarly mind was rapidly searching for an answer or at least a flippant response in return. The way he looked down, his eyes quickly darting left to right, made it look as though he thought he might find the answer somewhere on the floor.
“Oh, wise counsel, the court could use a lot less hesitatin’ and a lot more explainin’,” James replied, mocking Mason’s condescending ways.
“I’m not the one on trial here!” Mason finally thought to say, his courtroom professionalism now completely gone.
“No worries, my genius counsel. You are not alone in your failure to spew your linguistic brilliance upon hearing that question. I have yet to find a single intellectual who has a logical explanation for that.” James furrowed his eyebrows and leaned toward Mason. “Not one.”
“You can attempt to be clever and all you want! That doesn’t change the fact that, in the eyes of the law, your dead baby was an enslaved mulatto bastard!” Mason maliciously insulted.
“My baby was not a bastard!” James angrily fired back, glaring hatefully at Mason. “She was a miracle! Just like every human born on this earth! And yes! I proudly admit that I had the great fortune of creatin’ that tiny miracle with my wife!”
James’s mind drifted to that very woman again and his facial expression immediately softened, along with his voice. “I’s nearly brought to my knees with joy the day I found out I was gonna be a fatha’. Lily had initially wanted to surprise me with the news in the most unique way. She said she had this little sculpture created of me and her sittin’ unda’neath the tree we used to climb togetha’ as kids. There was a stack of books next to us. I used to read to Lily when we were younga’ and then we’d act out the scenes we read. Lily always portrayed one hell of a pirate. If our sticks were real swords, my body would still be covered in old puncture wounds,” James laughed lightly, along with the audience. “In the sculpture, we were holdin’ onto Wilbur, a turtle Lily and I named and played with all the time. On the base of the sculpture, Lily said she had the artist engrave the words, as children, we bonded ova’ the life of a very special friend and now the beautiful life we have created togetha’ will cement that unique bond for an eternity. Lily wanted to give it to me as a Christmas gift, but she had an altercation with my fatha’ backstage afta’ he found out about ’er show. He snatched ’er by the arm to drag ’er outta the theata’ and she dropped it and broke it. I neva’ did get to see it, but I didn’t let that take away from the excitement when Lily finally told me I would soon be holdin’ my first born,” James said, his emotions now beginning to stir.
“I had neva’ looked forward to a day with such euphoric excitement runnin’ through me eva’ before in my life. All day, every day, all I could think about was the moment I’d finally get to hold my little baby, to finally look into the eyes of the miracle my best friend had blessed me with. I’s certain my own eyes would be far too full of tears to see clearly, but I knew I’d be ova’come with joy just to hold him or her close to me.” James suddenly smiled. “Him or her? I rememba’ Lily and I used to playfully argue about who was growin’ inside ‘a her. Lily swore it would be our first son. My vivid dreams convinced me it would be our first daughta’. Daffy. That’s what I used to jokingly call the baby. It was short for Daffodil. Lily found it amusin’. But I truly did want to name all my girls afta’ flowa’s just like her,” James smiled.
“April seventeenth of this year, I learned that my dreams had literally come true. Rose was the real name I chose. Rose Elizabeth Maya Adams. Her middle names were in honor of both her lovin’ grandmotha’s. My firstborn was by far the greatest gift I’d eva’ been given. The joy of holdin’ her couldn’t compare to what I imagined it would feel like. I knew I was gonna love ’er, but I had no idea the love was gonna hit me like a freight train.” James wiped a tear out of his eye before it had a chance to fall.
“With the most indescribable love runnin’ through me like wildfire, I held Rose in my arms, thinkin’ about all the things I wanted to experience and share with ’er as she grew up. I had hoped Lily would teach ’er to play piano. I wanted to teach ’er how to fish. I had hoped she’d be my fishin’ buddy. Lord knows I needed all the help I could get to beat Lily,” James laughed lightly, along with an audience that was just as entranced by his story as he was. “I wanted to be the first man to eva’ dance with ’er and to give ’er her first sentimental piece of jewelry. I wanted to teach ’er how to swim. I wanted to build ’er a treehouse … the biggest damn treehouse you’ve eva’ seen in your life. I wanted to climb up there with ’er and read ’er all the stories that Lily and I had read togetha’ as children. I had hoped to buy ’er a telescope, so she could gaze out at the stars at night with Lily, the way Lily and her motha’ used to do togetha’.” James tilted his head back and closed his eyes to see the visions in his mind more clearly. “While Rose was up there in that treehouse, I wanted ’er to feel like a princess … my princess, lookin’ down at me from her towerin’ castle in the sky.” He paused, opened his eyes, and gazed at the floor. His tears pelted his lap, much like dozens of women in the audience who unexpectedly found themselves equally overcome with emotion … even the wicked eyes of Mary Jo Parker were leaking genuine tears.
“But I’ll neva’ get to experience any of those moments with Rose now …” James shook his head to ward off the rising tidal wave of emotion in his chest. “She came into the world three months before she eva’ should have. And less than an hour afta’ she was born, sh-she took ’er l-last breath in my a-arms. I swear, I c-couldn’t breathe eitha’,” he said, struggling now to find his breath. “Felt like s-somebody ripped my h-heart clean outta my chest.” With his head still hanging low, James paused and exhaled to collect himself. “I was s-so eaga’ to g-get to know who Rose was and to l-learn what all her hopes were. I w-was so ready to do a-any and everything I c-could to help ’er achieve her dreams as she blossomed into a beautiful young woman. But none of that will eva’ happen now…” James suddenly raised his tear-stained face and glared at Jesse. “Because my fatha’ MURDERED HEEER!” he suddenly erupted, his face red with rage.
All heads in the audience quickly swiveled toward Jesse in time to watch his eyes lower into hate-filled slits as he glared at his youngest son.
The view of his father started to blur when James’s eyes suddenly began to burn with tears. “My fatha’ tried to break every bone in Lily’s body when he found out her baby was mine! That bastard killed my little baby!” he said, still glaring at Jesse. “Rose was anotha’ one of his casualties! He added my daughta’ to the long list of people he’s murdered in his life! Includin’ my motha’! It was not a horse that trampled my motha’!” He pointed to Jesse. “He’s the animal who savagely murdered her!”
The mouths of those glaring at Jesse began to fall open.
“I stood outside his bedroom as a boy and listened to that monsta’ beat every breath outta my motha’s body! That sick bastard killed his own wife! For twenty years, he beat ’er senseless and cut ’er to pieces with words! He killed her soul! He killed her spirit! He killed her in every possible way that you could kill a person before literally takin’ ’er life with his bare hands!” James revealed, as he stared Jesse down. “And Lily was next on my fatha’s death list! He tried to stomp the life outta Lily for carryin’ my baby!”
“Did you try to shoot at your father for that reason?” Mason interjected.
“YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT I DID!” James yelled. “That demon doesn’t deserve to breathe!” He then turned and glared at his brother. “I’d’ve shot J.R. next for rapin’ my wife that day! Lily had every right to stab you! She should’ve slit your throat, you slitherin’ piece ‘a shit!”
Judge Lucifer began banging his gavel when the reaction of the crowd began to sound like an eruption of thunder. “ORDER!” he yelled repeatedly. “Watch your tone and your language in here Dr. Adams!” Judge Lucifer warned once the crowd managed to settle.
James ignored him and contin
ued reciprocating his father’s icy glare.
“So opening fire on your father was solely motivated by a need to defend Lily?” Mason asked.
“Yes! And there’s not an ounce of me that regrets tryna’ blow that creature away!” James confessed, still glaring at his father.
“Creature?” Mason questioned.
“Jesse Adams is not a man! He’s Satan in the flesh! That evil bastard forced me to watch ’em butcha’ a slave to death! Piece by bloody piece, he dismembered ’em alive! To this day, I can still hear that man’s hauntin’ screams in my nightmares!” James yelled, covering both his ears. He then turned toward the jury box. “And every racist bastard sittin’ in that jury box was there to witness it! Satan’s henchmen were hootin’ and hollerin’ and firin’ guns in the air, like they were celebratin’ at a goddamn New Year’s party! I’ve neva’ seen such savage barbarism in all my life!” James glared at his father again. “That creature tortures and kills for sport! And it’s goddamn entertainment for every subhuman piece ‘a shit sittin’ on this jury!
“And Jethro, Willard, Jeb … they were all there raisin’ their beer mugs high afta’ my fatha’s so-called justice too! And they were the three henchmen my fatha’ sent to drag Lily back to his barbaric playground, so her torturous death could be their night’s entertainment! They were gonna raise their beer mugs high in the air and dance around ’er burnin’ dead body like they were at a goddamn hoedown!”
Jesse and J.R. finally began to turn and sneer back at the people in the courtroom as they suddenly began mumbling obscenities to both of them.
“ORDER!” the judge yelled, banging his gavel. “SILENCE!”
Lucifer’s repeated demands were drowned out by the loud chatter rippling through the courtroom. Horror was etched on everyone’s faces as they verbally reacted to the allegations made against Jesse and J.R. All the while Jesse and J.R. sat as still as statues, their faces fire red as they glared at James for divulging their family secrets. Everyone there was shocked by the revelations except for Sheriff Clemens. He was wishing James had this level of bravery as a boy. His graphic testimony would have confirmed what Clemens believed had happened to Elizabeth when he investigated the case. He would have stopped at nothing to put Jesse in a place where he would never have been able to cause James to suffer yet another devastating loss in his life.
When the crowd finally settled, Mason asked the final question on James’s list. “Did you shoot Willard, Jethro, and Jeb the night your father sent them to search for you and Lily?”
James took a deep breath to compose himself and turned to look at Carolyn. “I didn’t kill your husband, Carolyn. I swear I didn’t. Jethro had a gun to Gideon’s head, threatenin’ to kill ’em if we didn’t turn Lily ova’ to ’em. It was Jethro that I shot to stop ’em from shootin’ Gideon. I don’t know what happened to ’em afta’ that Carolyn, I swear! I’m as devastated as you are about that because my Lily was with ’em.”
Carolyn nodded, then buried her face in a handkerchief and began to weep quietly.
“Willard was climbin’ in the wagon to take Lily away and Jeb was chasin’ us down too,” James continued. “So, I did what I had to do to stop ’em all from draggin’ Lily back to their torture camp. I couldn’t bear the thought of ’em doin’ things to her that I’ve witnessed them do to otha’ innocent people. There’s not a man in this courtroom that would stand by and allow someone to torture his wife to death in such a way.” He turned to look at Jesse. “Except for the demonic creature who fathered me! He’d just do the honors himself!”
Jesse pursed his lips tighter and furrowed his eyebrows, deepening the fire-red hue on his face.
James turned to the audience again and blew out a breath. “So yes, I shot ’em all.” He turned to the section where Willard, Jeb, and Jethro’s families were. “To all of you, I’m so sorry that your husbands, sons, fatha’s, and brotha’s won’t be a part of your lives anymore, but I’m certain that even they would not have allowed any of you to be tortured without a fight. They would’ve defended the people they loved … the way I did.”
James let his eyes sweep across the audience again. “I don’t regret the way I defended Gideon from men who wished ill will upon him that night. Nor do I regret the fact that I was defendin’ my wife from an unjustified torturous death. In fact, there’s no punishment you could eva’ give me that’ll make me regret protectin’ and lovin’ Lily the way I always have and always will … not even if I’m condemned to die for it.”
Within just one hour after closing arguments, Jesse’s brethren gave James that very sentence. The foreman of the Ghost Rider posse read the verdict with an air of pride, knowing James would die by hanging, the way they felt every “nigger lover” deserved to die. James was shackled right then and there to officially begin his stint on death row. The deputy took him by the arm and began guiding him out of the courtroom. Surprisingly, though, the snide remarks from the audience were absent this time. Nothing but James’s chains could be heard as they clinked and scraped the ground. The looks of empathy from men and the red puffy eyes of all the women there were proof that James had a small victory after his testimony. Their moment of silence seemed to prove that he had succeeded in transferring Fayetteville’s hate to the one true man in that courtroom who deserved it. As James was dragged past that very person, he smirked at how explosively angry his father looked. Knowing their father’s fuse was short, J.R. and Jacob gripped his arm just to be sure he did not explode with a courtroom full of people watching. The grip they had on him, however, could not stop Jesse’s filthy mouth … literally. He spat on James as he walked by.
James yanked his arm free from the deputy and turned toward his father. With his hands shackled, he could not wipe the tobacco drenched spit off the side of his neck. All he could do was look coldly at Jesse, baring his teeth like a rabid dog desperate to attack.
Jesse glared just as coldly back at James. “Don’t you eva’ address me as your fatha’ again, boy. Y’ur dead to me, you nigga’ lovin’ piece ‘a shit,” he spewed.
“You were dead to me the day you murdered my motha’,” James snarled. He lowered his eyes and looked at J.R and then back at his father. “You both betta’ pray I neva’ set foot outside ‘a prison eva’ again … because I will stop at nothin’ to send you both back to hell!”
J.R. and Jacob tightened their grip on Jesse when they felt him suddenly try to lunge at the son he had just publicly disowned. The deputies snatched James back and finally rushed him out of the courthouse toward the place where Jesse’s brethren had sentenced him to live until the day he dangled lifeless by a noose.
Chapter Four
After being sentenced to death, James was immediately moved to a maximum-security prison. As he was marched through the dimly lit, deplorable building that was now his home, he was pelted in the face with human excrement. His housewarming gift was delivered by an inmate who had saved his bodily waste all day for the honor of painting James’s face with it. With only one clear shot, the untamed prisoner had covered nearly the entire left side of James’s face with the stinking mound of feces. He let out a loud cackle when it landed just where he wanted. The perfect shot riled up all the other inmates and escalated the laughter and shouting to decibel levels, unlike any other time a new prisoner had been marched down the corridor. The prison guard just kept on marching James to his cell like the vile assault never even happened. With shackles still on his wrists, James could not wipe the disgusting heap off himself. When the laughter and yelling subsided, a familiar two phrase chant ensued during the rest of the humiliating journey to his cell. After all he had endured with the folks of Fayetteville, James had grown numb to the shouts of “nigger lover,” but there was no numbing himself to the stench plastered to his face. When his shackles were unlocked and his cell door slammed behind him, James dropped to a knee and vomited in the corner. He ripped a sleeve off his prison garbs and did his best to wipe his face clean with it.
�
�I see ol’ Ernest done got ’em anotha’ one. He loves to splatta’ nigga’ lova’s in shit. He figures since ya’ love nigga’s so much, he’ll try to make ya’ look like one, ’specially while y’ur bein’ marched in here in shackles with no goddamn shoes on. He figures it’s the closest you’ll eva’ get to feelin’ like a real slave.”
James turned around and looked at the filthy man who had just spoken. He was lying on his back in his cot, thumbing through a book. The man turned for a moment to return James’s glare, flashing what was left of his rotten teeth, which were just as brown as his greasy hair. He reeked of a pungent odor that made James nauseous again. Trying to keep his stomach settled, James turned his attention back to getting feces off his face. Without saying a word, he then laid in the cot with his back turned, trying to get his nose as far away from his new cellmate’s stench as possible.
“I’m Dale,” the smelly cellmate said, still thumbing through his book.
Again, James did not speak.
Instantly offended by the lack of response, Dale suddenly slammed his book shut, sat up, and looked over at James. “Oh, y’ur one ‘a those, huh?! I know y’ur goddamn type! Ya’ think y’ur too goddamn good to speak? Ya’ walk in here thinkin’ ya’ ain’t gonna botha’ wastin’ y’ur time befriendin’ fuckers like us ’cause we’re beneath ya’! Every man I done met like you walked in here just the way you did. They had their chests all poked out, feelin’ strong-willed, and confident in their convictions, convinced they’ll neva’ speak to a bunch ‘a lowlifes like us … but they all break. Even uppity nigga’ lovin’ fuckers like you! It don’t take long eitha’. Two or three days tops, eitha’ you’ll break down and cry like a sissified little pussy, or it’ll finally sink in that this is home for a long fuckin’ time, and you’ll realize that you might as well make a few fuckin’ friends in the meantime. One way or anotha’ … you’ll break. I give ya’ three days tops, nigga’ lova’!” Dale snickered, bearing his brown teeth. “And you look like a little pussy crier to me. I just know I’ma walk in here in three days and you’ll be curled up in the bed sobbin’ like a little baby girl, shiverin’, and ‘a shudderin’ with y’ur shoulders heavin’, beggin’ f’ur y’ur mama!” Dale started to mimic the motions and pretended to sniffle. “I-I w-want m-my m-ma-ma.” He broke out in a fit of phlegm-filled laughter, suffocating the atmosphere with the stench of his breath. He suddenly stopped laughing just as abruptly as he had started, squinted his eyes at James, picked up his book, and laid back down again. “Three days tops, nigga’ lova’ … you’ll talk.” He opened up his book again. “They always do,” he murmured as he forcefully turned a page.