With help of my cane, I headed by foot toward the Waterfront Battery Park on an idyllic seventy-five degree October day.
From the quaint alleyways to the majestic steeples, Charleston gave off the historic feel of another era. I passed a pineapple-shaped fountain that welcomed me to the park. My steps were slowed by apprehension, spotting the white gazebo where I was to meet Byron.
The sight of him trapped in a wheelchair tainted the perfect day for me. It just didn’t look right. And I was struck by the irony of the strongest man I knew, both physically and mentally, constricted by a chair.
Behind the chair was his mother, known affectionately as Mama Jasper. Standing to Byron’s left was his long time girlfriend, Tonya. It didn’t surprise me she stood by him in such a troubling time. It would have surprised me if she hadn’t. Not only was she beautiful-often mistaken for Tyra Banks-but also one of the most loyal and supportive people I’ve met. It’s not easy to find someone who understands the crazy business that we chose. Byron found a good one.
Mama Jasper was a large woman, but she wore her weight proudly. She was the first to spot me and gave me an enthusiastic “over here” wave. I felt a fleeting sense of relief to see the friendly smiles. When I reached the group, Mama Jasper gave me a big hug that knocked the breath out of me. Tonya followed with a much gentler one.
The last embrace came from Byron. Attempting to get my arms around a man strapped to a chair was an awkward movement, but even more so for me, since I knew I was the one responsible for him being in that chair.
Because he always thought of others first, he first said, “I’m so sorry about Noah.”
I nodded a thank you, but was unable to shake my feeling of guilt, which Byron picked up on. “Do you remember what we talked about in the hospital?”
“I just wish it happened to me instead of you.”
Byron laughed so hard I thought he was going to tip over. “JP, God only gives people what they can handle. You couldn’t handle this.”
He was right.
“Besides, I can still beat you one-on-one. When you can beat me on the basketball court, then I’ll be handicapped.”
Everyone laughed, except Mama Jasper. Overcome by emotion, she was busy wiping tears from her cheeks.
“Thank you so much, JP, for what you and Carter did with the renovations. I don’t know how I can ever repay you,” she said in a deep voice, seasoned with a southern accent.
I tried to speak, but she wrapped me in another affectionate hug, crushing my diaphragm. “You don’t have to repay me,” I replied the best I could.
“Maybe not, JP Warner, but you ain’t leaving Charleston without gettin’ a meal at Mama Jasper’s … on the house.”
Byron had bought the restaurant for her-her dream-when he signed his first NFL contract, allowing her to leave her job as a seamstress. I kept saying for years that I would make a trip there, but instead, I found myself eating with her son in places like Beirut and Sarajevo.
Tonya, with her gentle style, pulled Mama Jasper away. “What do you say, Mama, that we leave the boys alone and go do some shopping?”
She agreed, but not before delivering last words, “I expect you two at Mama Jasper’s at six o’clock sharp.”
We nodded our heads like obedient children and watched the two women walk away.
Always the reporter, I had noticed the large rock on Tonya’s finger. “Is there something you’re not telling me, my friend?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he played coy.
“Are you getting married?”
“I almost forgot that I was talking to the great J-News. Yes, we got engaged the night before we left for Serbia,” Byron said, unable to hold back a grin. “I would have told you on our trip, but those terrorists tied my gag a little tight.”
We slapped hands-it was the best two crippled men could do to celebrate.
“I’m taking the plunge,” Byron said, as I took the pushing position behind him. “I guess I couldn’t run away anymore.” He tapped the sides of the metal wheelchair to make his point, and then snorted a laugh.
I was too conflicted to see the humor. I was glad he couldn’t see my face, and notice the tear roll down my cheek. After collecting myself, I asked, “So what did Mama say when you told her?”
“When the hugging ended, she said it’s about time.”
“I’m happy for you two, and it is about time. She’s beautiful, smart, and loyal. There are like six of them in the world.”
“Is Gwen Delaney one of the six?”
I wasn’t going to touch that one. “Somebody’s been talking to Carter. Let’s get out of here.”
I handed Byron my cane and pushed him toward the waterfront. “Don’t you need it?” he asked.
“Not as much as I thought.”
I looked out at the calm, beautiful waters of Charleston Harbor-a refreshing sea breeze filled the air. We traveled through the battery and began to move up Meeting Street. We stopped for a moment to admire Calhoun Mansion, one of Byron’s personal favorites.
We then returned to South Battery Street and went east two blocks, passing one old mansion after another. We stopped for a moment so I could rest my still-healing lungs. I used the time to dial Gwen’s number, but once again received no answer. I still couldn’t believe she was out on the lake with that lunatic, and not having heard from her since our brief call, she was making me more nuts than usual.
We took one last view of the harbor before heading north. As we made a right on Church Street, Byron spoke excitedly about the foundation he started to try to cure spinal cord injuries. By the time we passed Catfish Row, I was convinced that he would.
“If anyone can it will be you, Byron.”
He shook his head. “No JP, I will play a role, but you should have seen these brilliant doctors I talked to yesterday. They’re getting close!”
“But I’m sure, like anything else, it’ll cost money. I’d like to help out with the fund-raising.”
“Appreciate it, but I will only accept it on one condition.”
“You’re putting conditions on my money?”
“The condition is that you let me help solve your brother’s murder.”
The request sobered me. “If I can think of anything, you know I’ll call you. A lot depends on…”
“What Carter and your girl find in Ocracoke?” Byron cut me off in mid-sentence. “I can hear the anxiety in your voice, JP.”
“I’m just worried about her. It was a crazy idea to try to bait him. Jones has killed before, and you know as well as I do, if you kill once then you’ll kill twice. She’s lost her mind.”
“Just a dumb enough plan to sound like something JP Warner would have come up with.”
I had no argument for that one. “This guy Jones is a mystery. I feel like the answers are right in front of my face, but I just can’t see them.”
“Sometimes you just need a fresh set of eyes, which I can provide. And JP…”
“Yeah?”
“She’s going to be fine.”
I sure hoped so. “It’s almost six. We better get to your mother’s restaurant.”
“Or we won’t be fine.”
As I began to push him toward Mama Jasper’s, he added, “And one more thing.”
“Which is?"
“If I ever catch you shedding a tear on my behalf again, I’m going to give you a reason to cry.”
I nodded.
While holding back a tear.
Chapter 58
I pushed Byron toward Mama Jasper’s, which sat on a popular congregating spot along the busy Meeting Street. At Byron’s urging, we stopped for a moment to watch the spectacular sunset over Charleston Harbor.
“So why did you decide to call it Rubber-Band Foundation?” I asked him.
“My old teammate Leonard Harris with the Cardinals. After he was in the accident that killed those girls, he dedicated his life to them. His philosophy was that since he was responsible for t
aking their lives, it was his duty to live their lives for them in a symbolic way.
“He wasn’t a perfect man by any standard, but well-intentioned. He wore a rubber band as a symbol of the accident. The elastic reminded him of how fragile life was and how it could snap at anytime. I think that’s a good symbol for our organization,” Byron said, snapping the red rubber band around his wrist. It broke, which made his point.
We entered Mama Jasper’s to the aroma of she-crab soup mixed with sizzling fried chicken. My senses were in overload, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
Mama Jasper’s was a converted warehouse. It was a casual, but elegant restaurant that still had the feel of a small diner. On Sunday night, it was dimly lit and very full. Or as Byron referred to it-the usual.
Mama Jasper met us at the doorway with a smile. Her smile was Byron’s smile, and it swelled with pride. She paraded us through the restaurant as if we were foreign dignitaries. Byron shook hands with numerous patrons like he was running for office. Many he knew, some he didn’t, but everybody knew him. I continued to be ignored, but gained instant credibility by the company I was keeping. The Jaspers were like Charleston nobility, and Byron was a rock star here.
The walls were lined with grand oil paintings of Charleston history, with an emphasis on the black history of the region. The highlight of my tour was a rare meeting with the chef, which according to Byron, was the highest honor given by Mama Jasper. It was like I was knighted. Sir JP and Sir Byron were then seated in the large VIP room in the back. Tonya was there waiting for him.
“Are you tired, baby?” she greeted him.
“Why would I be tired? JP did all the pushing.”
I moved toward the wall, where I could get a closer look at the large framed team photos of Byron’s football teams, displayed chronologically. This was the unofficial Byron Jasper Hall of Fame.
The team photos ranged from when he was in Pee Wee League to his last season with the Cardinals. The early photos were taken in black and white film. I got a kick out of the size of Byron’s afro in the photos from high school. In college he met Tonya and the hair got cut off.
I casually studied each one until I came upon the photo from 1995. I was drawn to a particular man in the photo. He wasn’t in uniform, so perhaps he was one of the many coaches or trainers. I realized that of all the people who looked at that photo over the years, probably none of them noticed the nondescript man hidden within a group of professional football players.
At first I didn’t believe what my eyes were telling me. So I took a closer look. Byron and Tonya stopped their lovey-dovey conversation and focused their attention in my direction. I’m sure I looked strange putting my face right up to the photo.
“You need glasses, man?” Byron called out.
I ignored the comment and took a step back, feeling dizzy. I looked under the picture where the names were listed from left to right. I traced my index finger across the line of typed names until I got to the man. Grady Benson.
“Are you okay, JP?” Tonya asked.
My mind was spinning so fast that it sounded like she was miles away. “Byron get over here.”
“Can’t exactly walk, man.”
“Get over here!”
He gave in and wheeled his chair to where I stood. “What’s going on?”
“Who is Grady Benson?”
“Grady Benson?”
I impatiently pointed at the man in question, jabbing the photo.
It rung a bell. “Oh, that guy. Remember when I told you about how Leonard was trying to turn his life around after the accident?”
“Yeah?”
“Leonard convinced the Cardinals he needed to travel with his ‘spiritual adviser,’ who was Benson. He gave him credit for turning his life around.” Byron rolled his eyes. “Listen, I said he was a good dude, not a sane one. Anyway, Leonard led the league in sacks that year, so the Cardinals bent over backwards to please him. They gave this Benson guy a job with some made-up title like Assistant Equipment Manager or something like that, so that he could travel with the team. Personally, I think he was some crackpot trying to take Leonard’s money. He was always attracting those types.”
“The accident where the two girls died was alcohol related, right?”
Byron looked quizzically at me. “You know that. What’s the deal, JP?”
“Was Benson present the night Leonard Harris died?”
“I’m not sure, but my guess would be yes. They were inseparable. What’s going on, JP?”
I turned back to the photo. “That’s him,” I mumbled.
“You’re worrying me, man. What are you talking about?”
I turned around and looked down at Byron in his chair. “I thought Kyle Jones killed my brother, but he didn’t.”
“I’m completely lost.”
I reached down and kissed Byron on the top of the head. “Remember when you said you wanted to help with the case. Well, you just solved it.”
I buzzed with energy. I floated to Tonya and gave her a kiss on her perfumed cheek. Mama Jasper simultaneously walked into the room and this time I gave her a big bear hug.
“I gotta go,” I said and quickly headed toward the door.
“Oh no you don’t, JP Warner,” she belted out.
But there was no stopping me. I was already halfway out the door.
“Don’t forget your cane,” Byron shouted.
I turned my head back to him, but never stopped. “You keep it-you’ll need it for when you take those first steps.”
Byron looked at the cane and then up at me. He just shook his head in disbelief.
Part Five
Keepin' up with the Jones'
Chapter 59
Gilbert, Arizona
Memorial Day-1998
Kyle Jones entered the frigid air of his Arizona home, a major contrast from the triple-digit temperatures outside. He took a last look at the almost empty living room-just a few boxes remained.
He picked up the remaining items and headed out to the truck. The heat grabbed him and he felt momentarily lightheaded. The experts said it would be a summer dominated by home runs, heat waves, and a presidential sex scandal. McGwire already was pushing twenty homers, and the temperatures had hit triple-digits by Memorial Day. As for the sex scandal, Kyle hadn’t got any action since breaking up with Lucy, so he wasn’t about to begrudge someone who was.
The decision to move was not an easy one. He liked living in Gilbert, and enjoyed his work on the police force. But ever since his breakup with Lucy he felt less connected. And perhaps all the moving he did throughout his childhood had gotten in his blood.
He didn’t have any specific plans, which was a major change from the structured life he’d lived. But he’d saved plenty of money from the settlement that resulted from his parents’ death, so he had some time to find his way. He would start by visiting them at Mount St. Helens, where their ashes were scattered. They always gave him good advice throughout his young life, and thought he might benefit from being in their presence once again. He would then travel to Lake Cumberland, Kentucky, where the accident occurred. It was his most favorite place in the world growing up, as it was for his parents, which was why they chose to retire there after leaving the Air Force. It was also the place where they were taken from him, and he felt he needed to make a final visit before moving on for good.
When he told Grady of his plans, Kyle was surprised by the unemotional response. He was a little hurt, actually, especially since he’d helped Grady get back on his feet. Not to mention the many years they’d spent together. Kyle offered to leave him six months’ rent to allow time for him to find a new roommate, but he declined.
Kyle entered the house for the final time. He wrote Grady a note, in which he promised he’d send a forwarding address and phone number when he settled somewhere. It was not the way Kyle wanted to say goodbye, but Grady was gone again-speaking at another safety conference, which had become his passion since Leona
rd Harris’ death. And a not-so-subtle reminder to Kyle that he should have done more to get justice for his own parents.
When he finished the note, Kyle entered his bedroom-the only things left to pack were a few items of clothing. He opened his suitcase and began taking shirts off hangers-neatly folding them, of course-and placing them in his bag.
On another trip to the closet, he found a few shirts belonging to Grady. They often traded clothing over the years. Their looks and builds were so similar that one of their squad leaders at Luke AFB used to always mix them up. Kyle didn’t really see the resemblance, but nobody ever debated that their personalities were complete opposites.
Kyle carried the borrowed shirts into Grady’s room and hung them in the closet. When he looked down, he noticed the journal that Grady began keeping after his suggestion to do so.
He knew he shouldn’t read it, but was caught in one of those debates with the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. Grady was such an intriguing mystery to Kyle, and even after all their years together, he sometimes felt like he didn’t really know him.
July 4, 1991
Timothy Kent was in my sights. I had waited for two years for this moment, but there is no statute of limitations on justice. Not only did Kent kill my parents, but he would now be responsible for the death of his girlfriend, and the Tompkins kid, who would play the role of lead suspect. The part I enjoyed most was the brief moment before the car split him in half. It was the look on his face. The look that told me he now understood his crime and that his punishment, while final, was also just.
Kyle urgently flipped the pages forward until another passage caught his eye.
July 4, 1996
My mission was clear. As I stood on the houseboat, I struggled to keep a straight face as Leonard Harris told me about how he’d changed his life. But I knew that like the leopard, evil couldn’t change its spots. His alleged metamorphosis was just a trick to fool the public, and perhaps himself. It was no surprise to me when his hedonistic tendencies betrayed him during his final party. It was the same behavior that had led to him taking the lives of those two girls.
Officer Jones Page 19