by Judy Candis
“Mom, Mr. Grant says he can play video games. I just want one WWF game with him. Just one, please! I’ll never be able to tell my friends I had a real FBI agent in my house who looked like The Rock and I didn’t beat him at his own game,” Ramon begged.
“Please, Mom, please!” Grant added with a puppy-dog look on his handsome face.
Jael laughed. “Okay, but you’ll be sorry, Grant. My son is WWF champ around here.”
Ramon rushed to restart a new game on the set, and Jael followed them into the den to watch. Curled up on the couch with a cold drink in her hand, Jael melted with every anxious grin the two displayed. There was certainly a softer side to this man who had just nearly bludgeoned a criminal to death and shattered an entire ring of thugs.
Ramon nearly kept his promise and beat Grant at only two games. As he was passing Jael on his way to his bedroom, he whispered, “He let me win. I can tell when someone is especially good at something and pretending not to be.”
Jael nodded. She had thought the very same thing as she watched them play.
Chapter
23
Jael finally kicked off her shoes and curled her feet under her on the couch. Grant moved to the adjacent couch with another full glass of Big Red, making himself comfortable and dispelling her earlier idea that he was ready to get away.
“You’ve got a nice son there. And Terrell . . . your nephew?” Grant said, taking a sip of his drink.
“No, a young boy I met who needed a little guidance. We sort of unofficially adopted him into the family about a year ago.”
“Bighearted woman. I should have guessed,” he said before taking a gulp of his drink.
“I don’t know about that, just doing my part to keep another black youth off the streets.”
“And Ramon’s father?”
“We’re divorced, three years now.”
Grant watched her with a look Jael couldn’t decipher. “Three years. And you haven’t remarried in all that time? Keeping a boyfriend or two on the sidelines?”
“Too busy for romantic stuff.”
Grant raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me your ex soured you on marriage. It’s a great institution, according to the Bible.”
“Yeah, I guess for some it’s a great institution, but for me it would just get in the way right now.”
“So the force has been your lover for all these years?”
Jael squirmed under his intense gaze. “No, God has been all things to me.”
Grant continued to watch her, giving nothing away in his expression. He decided not to push. “How long have you been on the force?”
“Next month it will be thirteen years.”
“You never told me how you became an officer of the law.”
“Like I said, long story.”
“Rushing me home?”
“Not before you tell me something about why you came down here in the first place, and how you knew this case was connected somehow to white supremacists.”
Grant leaned back against the couch and crossed his left ankle over his knee. He took another sip of the cold red stuff in his glass before answering. “I wasn’t sure at first, but close surveillance over the last few months suggested another incident was bound to happen soon. It’s usually a Lone Wolf, but he often has powerful forces working behind the scene.”
“Upton called himself a Lone Wolf. What does that mean exactly?” Jael took what she hoped was a dainty sip of her own drink and instantly recognized it as a flirty gesture. Shoot! Watch yourself, girl.
“In the Klan, they’re considered heroes. Almost like men on a suicide mission. In this case, it was the black drug dealers in Dadesville. An element of society frowned on by just about everyone for poisoning youth and as the cause of most of the negative things happening in our world today.”
“So what do we do to stop those behind this? I mean, here I am a member of law enforcement and had no idea our little town was saturated with an organized hate group. In this line of business, you always run into a few rednecks with racist tendencies, but it’s usually individual incidents.”
“That’s why I believe this needs to be publicized more. A lot of people have their heads in the sand about it, and that’s why it’s growing like wild weeds. We live in dangerous times, and organizations such as these thrive like locusts if they’re not completely annihilated.”
Watching him, Jael was impressed with his passion. In a flight of fancy, she imagined Grant as an angel hunk from heaven. A man after God’s own heart. A man perfect for her and Ramon. A man who would love and cherish her. Fulfill all her needs.
Jael squirmed with that last thought. Right after her divorce she’d fought an almost losing battle with her flesh. It was like love and affection had been suddenly ripped from her life, and the need to be held and to feel special to someone had been overwhelming. Thoughts of picking up a stranger simply for physical pleasure had toyed seriously with her mind. When she’d talked with Brenda back then, while she was still a baby Christian, her girlfriend offered unrealistic advice, like get on her knees and pray it off. She’d wanted to scream.
It seemed so unfair—just because Virgil wanted out, she was left behind with unfulfilled cravings. While he was experimenting with everything from young women to those twice his age, she was forced to rein in her physical need because she wanted to be faithful to God—and because she needed the Lord so desperately for other more important matters at the time.
But the Lord had proven Himself more faithful than she could have ever imagined, giving her the strength she needed to suppress her wanton emotions. In only a few months, the tough part was over. The Word of strength came at her from every direction. While flipping the television channels one evening, the Lord even spoke directly to her through Crefflo Dollar, who said that to chase away evil imaginings, one had to rebuke the devil out loud. She’d immediately stood and verbally demanded control of her own body.
After that, each time ungodly thoughts entered her mind, she’d speak aloud directly to the problem, followed by offering immediate praise. In no time, it was as if a faucet had been shut off and God had completely removed the yearning. Now she realized how she’d taken another of His blessings for granted: When the need left, she’d completely forgotten they had even been there.
But now those old feelings and needs were calling out to her like drugs to a recovering addict. How long had it been? How long since she’d even thought of a man romantically?
“Would you like some more?”
“Huh?” Jael said, caught off guard by the question.
“Your glass is empty. Would you like some more pop?”
“Oh, uh, yeah.”
As he rose to take her glass, he let his hand linger on her fingers. His seductive brown eyes held hers for a mind- boggling second. He smiled gently, breaking the moment, allowing her to breathe again.
“Well, as I was saying,” he said as he walked to the kitchen. “This is a highly organized group of people, and with the advantages of the computer age, their madness is running rampant. These militia groups are all over the country. Training grounds for racists, claiming that God’s their advocate and with names like the World Church of the Creator, or Church of the American Knight, it can be very devious for people unaware. They fill their young with hatred by dehumanizing blacks, Jews, Asians, Latinos—anyone who is nonwhite—to such a degree that these young kids think nothing of taking the life of these people.”
“How do they factor God into this hate scenario?” “They twist actual Bible verse to their own purpose. After 9/11, no one should be surprised that a group of men would kill in the name of their God.”
Jael sighed as Grant walked toward her. “But most Christians know the Lord teaches ‘Hate the sin but love the sinner.’ ”
“Most true Christians, yeah, but the vast majority of these men and women are so-called Christians, twisting Christ’s teaching and promoting their own biblical versions. Very few people actually read the
Bible, depending on others to translate for them. That’s why this stuff has festered for so long, because no one will stand up and say, ‘This is not the Word of God.’ ”
As he handed her a refilled glass of frosty liquid, Jael felt Grant’s agitation with each new statement and sensed that he believed strongly in what he was saying. He took his seat again, but this time leaned his elbows on his knees just a few inches away from her.
“They view blacks and other ethnic groups as anti- Christians, idol worshipers with religions like voodoo, Santeria, Buddhism, and thus they feel vindicated in bringing about a Holy War. Their hate for Jews is just as complicated as it has been since the days when Christ walked on earth.”
“You know who’s really behind this, don’t you? I mean if you really know your Bible, you know where it all comes from.”
“Yes. The adversary has used man’s hatred against his brother for millennia, and ignorant men are his tools of destruction. I believe churches around this country should stop hiding their heads in the sand and finally stand up for what’s going to make a real difference. A few ministries have acknowledged the sin of slavery and racism, but it’s been so few it’s like a ripple in a vast sea. On any given Sunday, whites are in their churches, blacks in theirs and so on and so forth, all praising the same God, but not doing anything to live as brothers and sisters.”
Jael thought about what he was saying. Yes, she went to an all-black church, but that certainly didn’t mean people of other races were not welcome. And wasn’t everyone comfortable in his or her own environment?
“Well, I certainly like my kind of music. It’s got more soul, if you get my meaning.” She smiled.
He returned the smile. “There’s nothing wrong with having individual tastes, but we have to learn to cross the lines of familiarity and make sure we’re reaching as many people of other ethnic backgrounds as possible. When churches do outreach, they usually reach out to their own kind.”
“Not true.” Jael sat up in defense of First Temple Church of God in Christ. Her shoulder gave a little cry of protest. She ignored it. “In our church we financially support many ministries around the country.”
“But when was the last time your church invited another church of a different background to a special event?”
Jael waved her hand in front of her. “Okay, we’ve gotten way off the subject here.”
“No, the subject is, ‘God’s people perish for lack of knowledge.’ There are thousands of people out there training for a race war, all in the name of God. Who’s taking up their Cross to face this one off?”
Jael thought about that, too, and when she envisioned TeeTee’s face and those of the other dead dealers, it hit hard. People around her were dying because someone had decided they were no-good scum of the wrong color. She knew few cared that a dealer was offed. She could see many good and decent people silently saying “Yes, one less criminal on the streets,” not knowing where this could all lead.
“As an agent of the Bureau,” Grant continued, “my goal is to assist other agencies to infiltrate these organizations—then we can work from the inside. But it’s a slow process. All the while, millions of Christians on the outside could do so much more if they’d only decide to leave their comfort zones and really evangelize.”
Suddenly, Jael realized how she’d let the zeal of her earlier Christian days slip away. The constancy was still there, but not the passion. She reflected that this was a sad state that many of God’s children found themselves in after a while, and possibly why so many churches kept having “revivals.” Maybe she needed a personal “soul revival” herself, for more reasons than one.
“How did you get so wrapped up in all this?” she asked.
“It wasn’t by personal experience, just a gradual awakening. I went into the agency an innocent. But even there when you’re confronted with the prejudice, you think it’s only a matter you have to deal with.
“A few years ago, I was assigned to the killing of a little black girl in Macon County. As I began my research, case after case kept coming up in the database that were similar. Each new discovery turned my stomach. The Bureau was working to compile a more recent record of incidents, which at first seemed like simple assaults or second-degree murder charges, but were actually racially motivated. One of our infiltrators turned over the Web sites and material that saturate this country. Believe me, skinheads are only a small part of this poison. Often people are confused about the difference between the Klan, Aryan Knights and skinheads. It’s simply different generations with varied ideas about how to go about spouting the same hate.”
Grant looked down at the empty glass in his hand, attempting to collect himself. “Seems like I’m about to drink you out of house and home. May I have another?” He held up his empty glass. “I guess all of this is making me twice as thirsty. You want some more?”
“No thank you, I’m fine.”
When he returned, he completely changed the subject.
“Tell me about you, and don’t put me off again about its being a long story.” He paused, giving her a sobering look before sitting down again. “I know about the drug charges.”
Jael gaped. “How did . . . who told . . . ?”
“No one told me. I told you, I checked your file on the Web before I arrived in Dadesville. You’ve got a great record and deserve the promotion to lieutenant. The only scar was the time you were called in about drug abuse.”
Jael looked off into near space. This was a tender subject with her, something she kept as far back in the crevices of her mind as possible.
“It was a bad scene,” she said softly. “I almost lost my job and my son.”
“Your file indicated the abuse was the result of dependence on Vicodin and Percodan, powerful painkillers.”
Jael gazed over at Grant, expecting to see disgust on his face. His look was unaccusing. “Some of us should never dabble with things we have little knowledge about. I’ve never smoked, alcohol never affected me, and street drugs were the farthest thing from my mind, but after my car accident, which left me with broken ribs in three places, I became addicted to Darvocet. I progressed to Percodan and Vicodin within a few months. Even when I was confronted by my commanding officer, I never admitted to a dependency. Not until the day I was so smashed I passed out.”
Like a flood, the past washed over her, with all its buried agonies, but she continued on. “I awoke to Ramon’s screams—he was only three at the time. In my pain-riddled stupor I had turned on the stove to boil some eggs for some tuna salad; food in my stomach helped to keep my head clear on the medication. While the eggs were boiling, I lay across the couch and drifted off from all the drugs in my system. If I’d been in my right mind, I would never have left the pot handle facing outward. But the truth is, if I’d been in my right mind I would have seen I had a problem before it went so far. Anyway, Ramon, my innocent baby, with nothing on but his baby pull-ups, reached up to pull at the pot, and the scalding water drenched his little body from head to toe.
“I called 911, and by the time we got him to the hospital, he had second-degree burns over thirty percent of his little body. I was treated at the hospital too, for hysteria. And that’s when it all came out about the drugs and how I’d misled my doctor. My husband never let me forget what I’d done. He didn’t have to—I tortured myself enough. The department placed me on probation for two years. They didn’t have to do that, either: I’ve had myself on probation ever since.”
“Is that when you gave your life to Christ?”
Jael looked at him but didn’t say anything at first. “I don’t see it as giving God anything. He stepped in and gave me everything. I met a lady named Brenda Merrill, the sister of one of our victims, at the hospital. She often came to the children’s ward and prayed for the kids, lifting their spirits and reading to them from the children’s Bible. She talked to me while Ramon was in intensive care, telling me God would make it all right if I believed. Watching my baby lie there in so
much pain, I wanted anything that could make it all right. Up until then I’d pretty much put all the things I’d learned about the Lord on the back burner—too sophisticated, you might say, with all my education, and believing I had grown out of that. But right then I prayed to Him to heal my baby. And Brenda began to talk to me about my spirituality and where the addiction was coming from.
“Over the next few months I began to attend her church, going to the altar for prayer every time they invited anyone up. And then one night . . .” Jael took a deep breath, remembering. “One night something miraculous happened. I felt this power surge through me and I could barely contain myself. I began to shake all over, and something inside seemed about to burst out. I know it was the Holy Spirit. But that was just the beginning. God worked with me so patiently, replacing all the guilt and fear with hope and purpose. And He showed His love in so many wonderful ways. I learned that whatever you do, you can’t run away from God. You’ll get either His blessings or His wrath, but you’ll get something.
“The church prayed continually for Ramon. When he was finally released from the hospital, I took him to church and let the pastor and elders pray for him. A week later the Lord touched my baby like a passage right out of the Bible. I was bathing him in Epsom salts as I’d been told when suddenly all the blackened skin from the burns began to simply fall off. I mean they just fell in the tub of water like a black sea of floating scabs, leaving behind smooth, soft skin. I remember jumping up and shouting, scaring my poor little boy to death. But then we began laughing and praising the Lord, with me getting just as wet as he was. I’ve lived from that day on thanking the Lord for His mercy. He didn’t have to do it, but He did.”
“He’s an awesome God.”
“I wear my uniform now in honor of Him. A soldier in His army, ready to serve any way He calls.”
“And is that why you’ve put men and romance on the back burner, so to speak?”