by Al Lacy
When all but the bailiff and the two guards had sat down, the bailiff read the charge against Dane Weston, and the trial began.
The witnesses gave their testimonies under oath one by one, and each pointed the defendant out as the person they saw stab Benny Jackson to death.
When the testimonies had been given, Judge Rigby spoke to the court-appointed attorney. “Mr. Watson, how does your client plead?”
Watson rose to his feet, gave Dane a fleeting glance, and said, “My client pleads not guilty, your honor.”
The jury was sent out and returned in less than fifteen minutes.
A deep feeling of dread assailed Dane as the men of the jury were filing in, their faces grim. He knew in his sore, hurting heart what the verdict would be.
When the jurors were seated, the judge looked at the man closest to him. “Mr. Chairman, has the jury reached a verdict?”
The chairman stood up. “We have, your honor.”
Rigby looked at Dane. “The defendant will please rise.”
Dane stood up, and George Watson stood beside him.
The judge looked at the chairman. “And what is your verdict?”
“We, the jury, unanimously find Mr. Dane Weston guilty as charged.”
George Watson turned and looked at his client. There was blank dismay in the boy’s eyes as he stared straight ahead. Then, he lowered his head, his chin nearly resting on his chest. A silent plea went heavenward: Why God? Why are You letting this happen to me?
Judge Rigby set steady eyes on Dane. “Mr. Weston, you have been found guilty of murder in the first degree in this court of law. Do you have anything to say?”
Dane’s features were like stone. He met the judges steady gaze and took a sharp breath. “I am innocent, sir. I did not kill Benny Jackson.”
Rigby nodded. “Notwithstanding your testimony, this court of law has found you guilty of murder in the first degree. I hereby sentence you to life imprisonment without possibility of parole. If you were not a minor, I would have sentenced you to be hanged for your crime.”
Dane licked his dry lips.
“This trial is over.” The judge banged the gavel on the desk. “Court dismissed.”
The two guards moved up to Dane. One of them told him to put his hands behind his back, and while he was putting the handcuffs on him, the street orphans and the adults gathered in a circle.
“Dane,” said Russell Mims, “we know you’re innocent.”
Dr. Harris spoke his agreement, and Bryce Clarkson moved up to face him. “Dane, I have no doubt of your innocence. Somewhere out there, the guilty party is on the loose. Because he strongly resembles you, he has the fortune of getting away with his crime. I’m—I’m sorry, son.”
Dane nodded. “Thank you for believing me, sir.”
“You understand that with this sentence, I must hire someone to take your place.”
“Of course.”
Clarkson laid a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dane.”
The boy blinked at the tears that were surfacing.
The pharmacist stepped back, and allowed Pastor and Mrs. Wheeler to step up. Mrs. Wheeler embraced Dane, spoke words of comfort, then allowed her husband to embrace him. The pastor held onto Dane’s upper arms and said, “I’ll come and visit you often. I assure you that the entire church will be in prayer. We’re going to ask God to see that the guilty person is caught. You hold on to Romans 8:28.”
Dane thanked him, saying he would, then Dr. Harris moved up and hugged him. “Don’t give up, Dane. God knows you’re innocent. I’ll visit you as often as I can.”
One by one, the children moved up to speak their words of encouragement while the guards looked on impatiently.
Tharyn purposely waited to be the last. With tears forming in her eyes, she hugged him and said, “You’ll always be my big brother, Dane. I’ll come and see you as often as possible.”
Dane leaned close and kissed her forehead. “I’ll look forward to each visit. I love you, little sis.”
“I love you, too.” She stepped back.
The tears were spilling down her cheeks as the guards led Dane away and out of the courtroom.
His mind numb, Dane followed one guard while the other stayed close behind him.
He was taken into the prison section of the huge building, where the guard behind him stopped at a desk and said something to another guard. He caught up quickly, as the other guard was ushering Dane down a long hallway. In his heart, Dane said, Lord, I told Pastor Wheeler I would hold onto Romans 8:28. Help me to do that, and help me to trust You as I should.
At the end of the hallway, the guards guided Dane through a heavy steel door into a corridor much like the one in the jail section. They moved him and finally drew up to a cell where one young man was sitting on a lower bunk. Each cell, like in the jail section, had four bunks.
While one guard was unlocking the cell, he said to the man on the bunk, “Got a cell mate for you, Jubal.”
When the other guard removed Dane’s handcuffs, Dane asked him if he would bring his Bible to him from the other cell. The guard told him he already had another guard going after it.
Dane stepped into the cell, the door clanked shut, and the two guards moved away.
Dane’s cell mate—whom he judged to be in his early twenties—rose from his bunk, smiled, and extended his hand. “My name’s Jubal Packer.”
Dane met his grip. “I’m Dane Weston.”
“How old are you?” queried Packer. “You can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen.”
“I’m fifteen.”
“What are you in for?”
“They convicted me of murdering an eleven-year-old boy in an alley, but I’m innocent.”
Packer chuckled. “That’s what nearly every man in here says, kid.”
“Well, I’m not lying. It was a case of mistaken identity.”
Packer grinned. “You mean you have an identical twin nobody knows about? Your twin murdered the boy?”
Dane bristled. “No, I don’t have an identical twin. The people who saw the boy get stabbed to death identified me as the killer. But I didn’t do it. So there has to be a guy out there who looks a whole lot like me.”
“Mm-hmm. So what do your parents believe about that?”
“I … I don’t have any parents. They were murdered by a street gang back in April, along with my little brother and sister. I’m a street orphan.”
“Mmm. I see.”
At that instant, a guard drew up to the cell door with the Bible in his hand. Extending it between the bars, he said, “Here you go, kid.”
Dane took the Bible. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
The guard walked away.
Jubal Packer looked at the Bible and grinned. “Oh, so you got religion when they locked you up in jail, eh?”
Dane shook his head. “No. I don’t have religion. I have salvation in Jesus Christ. I was saved before this case of mistaken identity ever happened to me. Before I was saved, I was headed for hell. But now I am headed for heaven.”
Packer laughed mockingly. “Well your Jesus Christ couldn’t even keep you out of prison. How could He keep you out of hell?”
Dane countered, “Jesus could have kept me out of prison, but He had a purpose for letting this thing happen to me.”
Packer looked confused. “I don’t get it.”
Dane opened the Bible. “Here, let me show you.” When he had come to the proper page, he put his finger next to Romans 8:28. “See what it says right here?”
While Jubal looked at the verse, Dane read it to him.
“See that? I’m one of those people who love God, so I know that all things are working together for my good. Even being falsely convicted of murder. And see that word purpose?”
“Yeah.”
“God has a purpose for me being here in this prison. I don’t know what it is yet, but that’s what it says right here.”
Dane’s own words were mysteri
ously adding strength to him.
Jubal was still looking dumbfounded as Dane asked, “What crime are you in here for?”
Jubal’s head dipped. “Murder. I … I killed a man in anger after we had an argument in a barroom. I left the barroom so angry, all I wanted to do was kill him. It was night. I waited for him in the darkness. When he came out a little while later, I stunned him with a blow to the jaw, then dragged him into the alley and strangled him. Just as he died, two police officers came into the alley. There I was, with my hands still locked on his throat. Someone on the street had seen me knock him down and drag him into the alley. They alerted the officers, who were nearby.”
Dane nodded. “So you don’t claim to be innocent?”
Jubal shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t claim that. I was caught red-handed. You see … I—I—”
“What?”
Jubal’s features had turned pale. “I’m … I’m going to be executed on Saturday morning at sunrise. The judge sentenced me to be hanged. I have less than four days to live.”
Dane’s brow furrowed. “Jubal, you need to be saved. Jesus died on the cross for the whole world. He loves you and wants to save you so you’ll go to heaven when you die.”
Jubal Packer shook his head. “God can’t forgive me for what I did, Dane. He can’t save my soul. I’m going to die at the end of that rope Saturday morning and go to hell.”
“God can forgive you. Let me read you some salvation verses from my Bible. I’ll show you the ones that were shown to me and brought me to Jesus.”
They sat down on Jubal’s bunk, and Dane took him to every verse Dr. Harris had shown him.
Jubal shook his head. “Those verses are for normal sinners, but not for a man like me, who took another man’s life.”
Dane found himself wishing he knew his Bible better so he could convince Jubal differently.
On Wednesday afternoon at 1:30, a guard came to the cell and told Dane he had a visitor. Jubal watched as his young cell mate was led down the corridor.
When Dane was led into the prisons visiting room, he was glad to see Pastor Alan Wheeler sitting behind one of the small barred windows.
He had his Bible with him.
As Dane sat down, the pastor asked, “How are you doing?”
“Well, better than I expected. I’m hanging onto Romans 8:28, and the Lord is using it to strengthen and help me.”
“Good.”
“Pastor, I’m really glad you came to see me. It helps a lot. I need you to do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
Dane told Wheeler about Jubal Packer, his upcoming execution, and how he had shown him the same salvation verses Dr. Harris had used to lead him to Jesus. He then told the pastor what Jubal said about God not being able to forgive him because he was a murderer.
“Pastor, would you talk to Jubal and show him from the Bible that the Lord can and will forgive him and save him if he will let Him?”
Wheeler pulled out his pocket watch and looked at it. “Dane, I have a funeral to preach over in Queens at three o’clock. I came by here to see you on my way to Queens. I have to leave right away, or I’ll be late. Let me write some verses down for you, and you show them to Jubal. You have your Bible in your cell, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Taking out a pencil, the pastor took a slip of paper from inside his Bible and began writing the locations of the verses. “Dane, some of these are to show him that Jesus will save any sinner who will repent of his sin and come to Him. They will convince him that he is not beyond salvation and forgiveness if he will believe them. I’ll put down some on hell too, so he will get a good dose of what’s ahead of him if he doesn’t turn to Jesus. I’ll come back tomorrow, and if he still isn’t saved, I’ll try to lead him to the Lord then.”
When the final Scripture reference had been written, Wheeler handed the paper to Dane through the bars and said, “Make him read every one of these verses if you can. You know what you did to be saved, Dane, so if he is willing to turn to Jesus after he sees these, just have him do what you did.”
“All right, Pastor. See you tomorrow.”
As Wheeler rose from the chair and slipped the pencil back in his pocket, he said, “I’ll be praying that the Lord will give you the wisdom and power to lead Jubal to Jesus. See you tomorrow.”
The pastor hurried away, and a moment later, a guard came and led Dane toward his cell. Hope arose in Dane’s heart as he clutched the paper and went to his cell.
Chapter Fourteen
Jubal Packer was lying on his bunk when Dane Weston and the guard drew up to the cell door. The guard turned the key in the lock and swung the door open without a word. Dane stepped in, the door clanked shut, and the guard walked away.
Jubal looked up at Dane. “So who was your visitor?”
“My pastor. I told him about you, Jubal. He wanted to see you, but he has a funeral to conduct over in Queens and had to get going.” Dane lifted the slip of paper into view. “Pastor Wheeler wrote some additional verses down for me to show you in the Bible.”
Jubal shook his head. “It won’t do any good. Forget it.”
“But these are Scriptures that will help you to see—”
“Weston,” came the voice of another guard, “you’ve got a visitor.”
Dane turned and looked at him. “Oh? My pastor was just here. You mean there’s someone else?”
“Yeah,” said the guard, inserting the key in the lock. “You can refuse to see anybody who comes if you want. This is a little lady. She said something about being your adopted sister.”
Dane’s eyes brightened. “Oh! Of course I want to see her.”
As he stepped out of the cell, Dane looked over his shoulder. “We’ll talk more about this when I come back, Jubal.”
Packer’s features had a stony look. He did not reply.
Moments later, when Dane stepped into the visiting room and saw Tharyn smiling at him through one of the barred windows, a huge grin spread across his face. She put her hands through the bars. Dane quickly sat down and grasped them. “Hello, little sis.”
“Hello, big brother. How are you doing?”
Dane felt a slight trembling in Tharyn’s hands, and noted that her eyes seemed dull and her skin seemed wan. “I’m all right, considering the circumstances—but you don’t look like you feel well. What is it, little sis? Are you sick?”
“No. I … I’m not what you would call sick. I just—well—”
“Hey, I’m your big brother. You can tell me anything. I need to know what’s going on in your life. Being in this prison, I may not be able to take care of you like I want, but God hears the prayers of His children no matter where they are. I have plenty of time for praying in here. Now, c’mon. Level with me. Why are you trembling and looking so pale?”
Tharyn felt that Dane had more than his share of problems already. She didn’t want to worry him, but neither would she lie to him. She looked down at their joined hands and drew in a deep breath. “Well …”
“I know what it is. You’re hungry, aren’t you? The food’s been scarce.”
Tharyn raised her downcast eyes and nodded slowly.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m in this awful place for something I didn’t do, and I can’t work at the pharmacy and bring in money for you and the others so you can have enough to eat.”
She squeezed his hands. “Please, Dane, don’t concern yourself over us. You’ve got more than enough to bear, just being in this place. We’re God’s children. He will take care of us. We’re a bit low on food right now because the begging has produced very little money of late. The people at the café haven’t had much in the way of leftovers to give us, and even their garbage cans have not had much in them. But we’re not starving. The Lord won’t let that happen. We’ve been taking the problem to the Lord and asking Him to provide more food one way or another.”
“I know God has told us to cast all of our care on Him, and you’re right to take the
problem to Him. But—”
She cocked her head and looked deep into his eyes. “But what?”
Dane avoided her gaze by looking down at the floor. “Well, I just feel guilty. I know that the colony is suffering because I’m not there to provide money from my job.”
“Dane, look at me.”
He raised his eyes to meet hers once again.
“Nobody in the colony blames you for anything. We all know you are innocent of this crime they are accusing you of. Now please, don’t worry about us. You have enough to contend with, being in this filthy place. Remember, Jesus loves the little children. He will take care of us.”
A tiny smile crinkled the corners of his mouth. “I’ll say this for you—you’re a fast learner. Are you still reading your Bible every day?”
“Of course. We all are. We’re trying hard to carry on just as you would want us to.”
Dane’s smile grew larger. “Good. Now, I have something I want you and the others to pray about.”
“Sure. We’ll be glad to. It will give us something to concentrate on besides ourselves. What is it?”
Dane told her about Jubal Packer, of his upcoming execution on Saturday, and his mistaken assumption that the Lord could not forgive him and save him because he was a murderer. He explained that he showed Jubal the verses Dr. Harris had used to lead him to the Lord, but they didn’t seem to faze him. He went on to tell her about the verses Pastor Wheeler had written down for him to show Jubal, and that Pastor Wheeler would be back tomorrow to talk to Jubal.
“Tharyn,” Dane said with emotion in his voice, “I’m going to show Jubal the verses Pastor Wheeler wrote down. I want you and the others to pray that I will be able to lead him to the Lord today, or that Pastor Wheeler will be able to lead him to the Lord tomorrow—or at least before Saturday.”
Tharyn nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll tell the others in the colony, and we’ll be praying.”
At that instant, the guard who had brought Tharyn into the visiting room came in. “Okay, little lady. Times up.”
Tharyn turned and looked up at him. “Yes, sir.”
Tears misted her eyes as she looked back at Dane and squeezed his hands. “I’ll come back again as soon as I can, big brother. Remember, we’re all praying for you. You know what?”