Whispers in the Wind

by Al Lacy

  The children thoroughly enjoyed Sunday school and church services each week and the Bible readings with Dane every evening—especially since the church had supplied each one of the new converts with their own Bible. Some did not read too well, but Dane also helped them with this.

  Dane eagerly went to work each weekday morning at the pharmacy and enjoyed being even this close to the medical world. Mr. Clarkson often took time to instruct him on the various kinds of medicine, and the use of each one. Dane was grateful for the information. He tucked it into his eager memory bank, longing for the time when he would become a doctor.

  One day in mid-September, just after Dane had returned to the alley after his morning’s work, the children were sitting together while eating their meager lunch.

  They were talking about Pastor Wheeler’s sermon on the love of Jesus and discussing how much Jesus loved all of them when Russell’s attention was drawn to a pair of police officers as they turned into the alley off the sidewalk and headed toward them.

  Russell squinted at the uniformed men. “Something’s wrong,” he said to the others. “It’s Officers Thornton and Collins, and they’re mad about something.”

  Everyone focused on the oncoming officers.

  Dane swallowed the stale bread in his mouth. “I’d say so, Russell. They do look angry.”

  A hush fell over the little group as they watched the two policemen coming toward them. Living on the streets, they had learned that angry policemen meant trouble of some kind.

  As the officers drew up, Dane started to stand.

  Officer James Thornton reached down and gripped Dane’s upper left arm tightly. “Come on, kid. You’re going with us.”

  Alarm showed on the faces of the group.

  Dane felt a twinge at the base of his stomach. His brow furrowed as he met the officer’s hard eyes and looked at him curiously. “I don’t understand, Officer Thornton. Where are you taking me?”

  “To jail after some people take a look at you!” Thornton jerked him to his feet.

  The words stung like wasps. “Wh-why? What have I done?” His mind was spinning.

  “You know what you did, Dane!” rasped Officer Collins.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong. Please. Tell me what I’m supposed to have done. There has to be some kind of mistake. There has to be!”

  Thornton took the pair of handcuffs from his belt. “Don’t play innocent with me! You’re under arrest. Turn around and put your hands behind your back!”

  Dane’s face was aflame with embarrassment as Thornton held one wrist and forced him to turn around.

  The children looked on in stunned silence. They watched Officer Thornton handcuff him. All the while, Dane was shaking his head and strongly denying any wrongdoing.

  Russell took a step closer to Thornton. “Please, sir. Why are you arresting him?”

  Officer Collins scowled at him. “You just stay out of it.”

  As the policemen began ushering Dane toward the end of the alley, Tharyn ran after them, darted into their path, and planted her feet, causing them to stop. “Please, officers,” she said in a frightened voice, “won’t you even tell Dane and us what you are arresting him for?”

  “That, little lady, is none of your business. We have to deal with teen crime every living day in this city, and we don’t have time to explain it to you or the others. Dane already knows. Now get back there with your friends.”

  Dane met her gaze and said shakily, “Tharyn, go on back with the others. It’ll be all right. Somehow, we’ll get this misunderstanding cleared up, and I’ll be home soon.”

  Tharyn’s vision blurred in an onset of tears. “But—but—”

  Dane’s voice steadied. “Please, little sis. You’ll be safe with the others. I’ll be all right once this business is cleared up.”

  Dane wasn’t sure how he was able to speak in a steady voice at that moment, but he saw that it had a calming effect on Tharyn.

  She swallowed hard and wiped tears from her eyes. “Okay. If you say so. But please hurry back. We all need you.”

  “I will. Now go on back with the others so I can go with these officers and see what this is all about.”

  Tharyn stared at him for a moment, then moved past Dane and the officers and headed toward the group of stunned children, looking back over her shoulder.

  When they reached the street, Dane saw two horses tied to a street lamp. “We’re mounted police today,” said Thornton.

  While Collins was mounting one horse, Thornton lifted Dane into the saddle of tho other, then swung up behind him. Reaching around the boy, he took hold of the reins. “Let’s go, Fred.”

  As they rode down the street, Dane turned his head. “Now that we’re away from my friends, will you tell me what I’m supposed to have done? What people are going to take a look at me?”

  Thornton leaned close to him and spoke into his right ear. “Like I said, you already know. Less than an hour ago an eleven-year-old boy was stabbed to death in an alley three blocks from here. A man and two women who work in the business office of Denmar’s Department Store heard an argument going on in the alley. They looked out the window just as an older boy plunged a knife into the eleven-year-old’s chest. They got a good look at the assailant before he ran out of the alley with the knife in his hand.

  “Officer Collins and I were riding these horses today instead of walking our beat. We were summoned by a man sent by the three witnesses, and when we reached the alley, we found the witnesses standing over the dead boy. Before he died, he told them his age, that he was an orphan, and that his name was Benny Jackson. The witnesses gave us a clear description of the killer: your height, your build, your jet-black hair, and even your facial features. They overestimated your age. They thought the killer was about seventeen years old.”

  Dane licked his lips. “Officer Thornton, it was not me! I didn’t stab that boy. I would never do anything like that! I’m telling you, it wasn’t me!”

  “Mm-hmm. We’ll see what the witnesses say when they see you. They were off a little on the age, but the minute they described the killer, Officer Collins and I both knew they were describing you.”

  “That’s right,” said Collins as the officers veered the horses around a bread wagon that was parked at an angle in the street in front of a grocery store.

  Dane shook his head vehemently. “No! It was not me!”

  Collins leaned from his saddle and looked Dane in the eye. “Where were you an hour ago?”

  “I was on my way home from work.”

  “Oh yeah. I remember now. You’re employed at the Clarkson Pharmacy. And, come to think of it, in order for you to get to your alley from the pharmacy, you have to walk right by the alley where the boy was killed.”

  “I don’t know which alley you’re talking about, but even if I have to walk by it to get home, that doesn’t mean I did it. I’m telling you, sir, I didn’t do it.”

  Even as Dane was speaking, they turned at the corner near Denmar’s Department Store, rode to the alley, and stopped at the back door of the store.

  Officer Thornton slid off the horse and helped the handcuffed Dane Weston from the saddle as Officer Collins dismounted. Dane was ushered by the officers through the back door, then into the business office.

  The store manager was seated behind his desk, and two women and a man sat in chairs in front of the desk. All four rose to their feet as Thornton and Collins brought their prisoner in. The man and one woman were in their thirties; the other woman was past fifty.

  “We have Dane Weston here,” Thornton said flatly.

  “That’s him!” said the younger woman, pointing an accusing finger at Dane.

  “Sure is!” said the man.

  “Without a doubt,” put in the older woman. “I’m glad you officers knew who he was. He won’t be able to kill anyone else.”

  Tears welled up in Dane’s eyes. “No! You’re wrong! It wasn’t me. You told the officers the killer looked to be seventeen.
I’m only fifteen.”

  The man said, “We were wrong about your age, but we’re not wrong that you’re the one we saw kill that poor little boy.”

  “They won’t execute you because of your age, Dane,” said the older woman, “but you’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars.”

  Dane’s awareness of impending imprisonment was so harrowing that he was on the edge of blind panic. He felt as if a viscous fluid was seeping into his skull, compressing his brain. He bent his head, fought the handcuffs behind his back, and broke into sobs. “No! I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!”

  Officer Thornton laid a hand on his shoulder and pinched down tight. “Get a grip on yourself, Dane. None of this would be happening if you hadn’t stabbed that boy to death.”

  Dane drew in a shuddering breath, swallowed with difficulty, and set his frightened gaze on his three accusers. “Wh-what was the killer wearing? Was he dressed like I am?”

  The trio exchanged glances and both women slowly shook their heads.

  The man looked at Dane. “We can’t be definite about the clothing. We were too busy memorizing the killer’s build, hair color, and facial features.”

  “That’s right,” said the younger woman.

  The older woman glared at Dane. “You’re the killer, all right, and I’ll swear to it in court!”

  “All three of us will.”

  Officer Thornton nodded. “No mistake, here. We’ll take him to the city prison.”

  Tears shone on Dane’s cheeks. He had been confident during the ride to the department store that once the three witnesses saw him, they would know he was not the person they saw stab the little boy. Now he stood dumbfounded. “Please! Take a real good look at me! I don’t have an identical twin brother! Whoever the killer is, he can’t possibly look exactly like me! You’re mistaken! I’m innocent!”

  All three fixed their eyes on Dane again, studying him closely.

  “He’s lying,” said the man. “He’s the killer, all right.”

  Both the women asserted their agreement.

  “Come on, Fred,” said Thornton. “We’re wasting our time. Let’s get him behind bars.”

  “Right,” said Collins. “The sooner the better.”

  Each officer took hold of an upper arm and guided a weeping Dane Weston out of the room while the witnesses and the store manager looked on.

  When they stepped into the alley, Dane sniffed and murmured, “I feel like I’m in a horrible nightmare and I can’t wake up.”

  “The nightmare is what happened to Benny Jackson here in the alley,” Thornton said.

  Once again, Dane was lifted into the saddle, and Officer Thornton swung up behind him. Officer Fred Collins was already mounted.

  As they reached the street and headed in the direction of the city prison, Dane knew they would take him to the Hall of Detention and Justice on Centre Street. He had seen it many times.

  Dane had learned in school that the building was constructed back in 1838, and that it was fashioned after a drawing of an Egyptian tomb that caught the fancy of Manhattan’s Common Council. Within the same building was the city prison which was now called “The Tombs” by the people of New York City.

  A cold shiver slithered down his spine.

  When they arrived at the Hall of Detention and Justice, the officers took Dane inside the building and entered the office of Officer Shamus O’Malley where they sat him in a chair in front of O’Malley’s desk.

  The officers gave O’Malley their prisoner’s name and age, explaining that he was a street waif in their district, then filled him in on the details of his arrest and the corroboration of the eye witnesses that he was indeed the one they saw stab Benny Jackson to death.

  O’Malley put it all down on paper, and while he was booking Dane for the crime, Dane looked at him with fearful eyes. “Mr. O’Malley, those witnesses were wrong. It wasn’t me. I didn’t stab Benny Jackson. This is a case of mistaken identity. Please believe me.”

  O’Malley paused in his writing and looked up at Dane. “Well, sonny, you have the right to get a lawyer to defend you.”

  Dane stared at the man as if he had lost his senses. “Oh, sure I can. How would I pay a lawyer? Up till today, even though I’m a street orphan, I’ve had a job at Clarkson Pharmacy. Most of my wages go to help feed the other kids in my colony. My whole family was murdered by a street gang, sir. Do you really think I would turn around and do this to someone else?” A lump caught in his throat, causing him to choke up.

  Officer O’Malley had been at the booking desk for a good many years, and he knew that nearly everyone who sat before him claimed that they were innocent. But to O’Malley, there was something different about this boy.

  He set his bright Irish eyes on him. “If you’re not guilty, the court will examine your case and pronounce you innocent. Try to be patient and let the justice system do its job.”

  O’Malley’s kind words were the first that Dane had encountered since the two policemen had nabbed him in the alley. He felt tears burn the back of his eyes and blinked to keep them in check.

  He fixed his gaze on the redheaded officer. “Thank you, sir. If justice is done, I will indeed be pronounced innocent.”

  When Officer O’Malley had finished booking Dane for the murder of Benny Jackson, a guard was summoned to take him to his cell. While they were waiting for the guard to appear, O’Malley said, “Dane, you are set to go to trial next Tuesday, September 19.”

  Dane took the news silently.

  The guard arrived, and O’Malley gave him the details as to why Dane had been arrested, including the testimonies of the three witnesses.

  While Officer Thornton was removing the handcuffs so the guard could take Dane away, he said, “I’d like to believe that you’re innocent, but the testimony of three respectable witnesses is hard to discount.”

  Dane could only look at him as Thornton hooked the cuffs on his belt.

  With that, Thornton and Collins left the office and the guard led Dane toward the office door.

  Shamus O’Malley bit his lower lip as Dane was ushered into the hall, his head bent down. When he and the guard passed from view, O’Malley whispered, “Somethin’ inside of me tells me you’re innocent. I hope justice indeed is served.”

  As the guard was leading his prisoner down the hall, Dane asked, “Sir, how can I let my employer know what has happened to me? He will be expecting me on the job in the morning.”

  “There is no way you can send a message out,” said the guard. “If somebody comes to visit you, you can have them deliver the message to your employer for you.”

  Dane nodded silently. Please, Lord. Speak to the hearts of my friends in the alley to contact Dr. Harris, so he will come and see me.

  “I’m putting you in a cell in the short-term jail section. You will stay here until your trial. If you are convicted, you will then be locked up in that part of the building known as The Tombs, which is the prison where the long-term prisoners are kept.”

  Dane felt sick all over. Lord, how could this awful thing happen to me? You know I didn’t kill that boy. Please help me.

  They entered the cell block and walked down a corridor between cells. Another guard joined them, holding a ring of keys in his hand. Men behind the bars stared at them as they moved along. Dane felt his flesh crawl.

  It crawled even more when they drew up in front of a cell with four bunks inside and three tough-looking boys in their late teens staring at him. The guard with the key ring unlocked the cell and motioned for Dane to step inside. When he did, the barred door slammed shut, and the two guards walked away.

  The three boys quickly showed Dane which bunk would be his, and asked him what he was in for. When Dane told his story, emphasizing his innocence, they laughed mockingly, saying he was innocent just like them. They pressed Dane to give them the details and tell them how it felt to plunge the knife into Benny Jackson’s chest.

  Dane told them again that he didn’t do it. They di
dn’t like the way he talked to them. They cursed him, knocked him to the floor of the cell, and began pounding on him with their fists. Guards came instantly, broke it up, and transferred Dane to a cell by himself, farther down the corridor.

  He lay on the cot, nursing a bloody nose, and prayed for God’s help.

  Later that afternoon, the children in Dane’s colony were on the street corner begging when Russell Mims spotted Officers James Thornton and Fred Collins on their horses at the other end of the block. They were in conversation with two men on the corner.

  Russell pointed them out. “The rest of you stay here. I’m going to go talk to them about Dane. Maybe they’ll tell me now what he’s supposed to have done.”

  The children watched Russell run down the sidewalk, then turned their attention to people coming their way so they could beg for money.

  Some twenty minutes later, the children saw Russell coming back on the run. At the moment, there was no one to beg from, so they all collected in a knot as Russell drew up.

  Gasping for breath, Russell said, “They … they told me … what Dane has been accused of. Let … me catch my breath … and I’ll … tell you.”

  When his breathing became more normal, Russell told his friends what Dane had been accused of and of the witnesses who said they had seen him do it.

  Tharyn’s face was a gray mask. “No! Those people are wrong! We all know Dane wouldn’t do a thing like that. Just think of what he’s done for all of us. He’s a wonderful Christian and would never kill anyone.”

  Everyone in the group spoke their agreement.

  “Anyway,” said Tharyn, “what reason would he have for killing that eleven-year-old boy? It’s ridiculous.”

  Everyone agreed again.

  Billy Johnson turned to Russell. “Is there anything we can do to help Dane?”

  Russell nodded. “Yes. We’ve got to let Dr. Harris know about this. If anybody can help Dane, it’ll be him. I know he will do anything and everything he can.”