Swift Justice: The Southern Way

by R. P. Wolff

  “Officer, can I tell you the story? Someone came—”

  “Who was it?”

  “This person was completely covered with clothing and a hooded mask.”

  “Are you trying to say it was a white guy?”

  “I don’t know what it was, but someone came. This person shot ‘em all up, shot ‘em like twice, and killed them. Then the person started kicking each of them after he shot them.”

  Leon’s father and Mr. Stevens gave Leon a subtle glance. Leon figured that they were surprised to hear this new development of the kicking for the first time. Leon didn’t tell them about it earlier. Of course, Leon was the person who kicked the three dead men, but he figured it was best to blame it on the shooter.

  Leon continued. “The person gave me their keys, so I could unhand cuff myself, and the person ran off.”

  “Bullshit,” exclaimed Clark.

  “No, it’s not. It’s what happened. I swear, officer.”

  “Holy shit, boy. You in a lot of trouble.”

  “Why am I in trouble? I am just telling you what happened.”

  “Lookie here, boy, these guys are dead. Wait, where are they at, by the way?”

  “I can show you where they’re at.”

  “Well, you better show me. This is unfuckin’ believable. You come with me.”

  “We’re coming with you too,” said James Brooks.

  “No, hell you’re not,” barked Clark. “He’s coming alone with me in the police car.”

  “No, we’re going,” said Deron adamantly.

  “I’m telling you right now, he’s coming with me by himself.”

  Leon figured it was time to inform the police that he had an attorney. “Look, I must warn you that I do have an attorney coming down here.”

  “Big fucking deal. Like I give a shit that you have an attorney.”

  Leon spoke in a desperate tone. “Look, I didn’t do anything. I almost got my ass killed. I can take you to where they are at, but I’m not going in your car. If I go in your car, it is like you are arresting me.”

  “That’s damn right. I’m going to arrest you.”

  Leon continued, “Look, do me a favor. Just give me a chance to show you what happened.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you want.”

  Deron came forward and pressed both hands on the counter towering over the smaller, Sam Clark. “Look, we’re not going to let you take my little brother. They already almost hung him tonight. There’s no way we are letting him out of our sight.”

  Leon shivered at Deron’s bold move. Black people were hung for far less than what his brother was doing. He was disrespecting a white man, an officer of the law as well. Leon feared not only for his own life, but also for his brother’s life.

  Clark responded, “Are you fucking kidding me. You don’t tell me what to do.”

  Reggie and his father also approached the counter and were eyeballing the smaller man.

  Leon said, “Look, just let us drive our truck, and you can follow us. I will show you how to get there. We’re not going to go anywhere. This is a small county. Remember, I was the one who came here. If I wanted to flee the area, I would have already done so.”

  Sam Clark observed each of the men with apprehension, realizing that he was severely outnumbered. He said reluctantly, “All right, I can’t get a hold of the Sheriff, so I’ll follow your asses. But once the Sheriff gets a hold of you, the Sheriff will probably arrest you.”

  Chapter 6

  The Sheriff and his son, Junior, were ready to give up. They had been walking in the vast woods for over thirty minutes but hadn’t found anything. The Sheriff was embarrassed that he couldn’t find the designated spot, but he didn’t want his son to know it. However, it was now daylight, and they could see better.

  “What do you think, Dad?” asked Junior. “Should we keep looking?”

  The Sheriff sighed. “I don’t know. I think this is the area of the planned hanging. I mean, they told me that they were going to be north of the lake off Route 12.”

  “Well, maybe we should keep heading towards the lake, and maybe we’ll see something.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. If we reach the lake and don’t find anything, then I think we should head back.”

  “What do we do if we find Leon strung up on a tree?” asked Junior.

  “We leave and don’t say anything. We’ll let someone else discover his body. We can’t be the ones that discover it; otherwise, people will suspect that we were involved in it. We have to keep ourselves clean of any involvement.”

  “Okay.”

  “However, the fact that the boys haven’t shown up is not a good sign,” said the Sheriff. “I doubt that they strung Leon up. I expect much worse.”

  They kept walking and then suddenly stopped. They heard a buzzing sound as if there were an enormous number of bees buzzing around.

  “Wait,” said the Sheriff.

  Junior and the Sheriff froze and remained still. The Sheriff peeked through the shrubbery to an open area. He drew his gun and indicated for Junior to the same.

  “Something’s up over there,” said the Sheriff while pointing to the open area. “Let’s hike over there but be careful.”

  They continued their hike and saw what the source of the bee-like sound. Bugs were swarming over three dead white men! There was a bird pecking on one of the men’s face.

  The Sheriff realized what happened. The wrecking crew was dead. “Oh my God! Oh my God,” said the Sheriff. The Sheriff ran towards the bodies with his gun still drawn. He could see that there was no hope—they were dead.

  “Junior, check over there,” the Sheriff pointed to an area where he thought the perpetrators might have gone, which seemed like the most likely route for an escape.

  Junior darted to where his father said to go and disappeared into the woods. He ran about fifty yards, didn’t see anything, so he ran back. When he got back, he saw his father vomiting.

  The Sheriff couldn’t control himself at the awful site of the three dead men, who were his buddies that he knew since they were kids. Their faces were purple and had bugs crawling all over their faces and into their eyes. It was gross and heartbreaking. He started to cry but fought hard not to show his son. Instead, his eyes were watery. Damn, I can’t have my son seeing me cry, he thought. He had to regain his composure. He had to find an excuse to get his son out of there, so his son wouldn’t see him so vulnerable.

  Junior approached his father. “Dad, are you okay?”

  Trying hard to fight his tears, the Sheriff said, “Son, run to the car and radio this in. Hurry, and bring some crime scene tape when you return.”

  Junior didn’t hesitate and ran towards the police car.

  Once the Sheriff saw that Junior was out of eyesight, he kneeled, and wept continuously. He couldn’t believe what had happened. Everything went wrong. How did they kill the wrecking crew? That motherfucker, Leon, must have done it, thought the Sheriff. Or maybe it was Leon and a bunch of other niggers, he speculated. Maybe it was Leon’s brothers. All he knew was that someone was definitely going to pay for these murders.

  The Sheriff would not rest until he found the murderers.

  ~~~~

  Mr. Stevens drove his truck down Route 12 with three police cars following. Sam Clark must have radioed in two other cars to follow them.

  Leon was worried. He and his brothers really overstepped the unwritten boundaries at the police station. There would be repercussions. The police were going to flip out once they discovered the bodies. They might just shoot him and his family on the spot. The situation was not good. He was in a nightmare that wouldn’t stop.

  Leon directed Mr. Stevens to stop at the spot where Leon thought was where the bodies were near. Mr. Stevens stopped slowly off to the shoulder. One of the police cars pulled in front of the pickup truck, another one pulled to the side of the truck, and the other one was behind the truck, effectively preventing any escape.

  Leon and his
family and Mr. Stevens hopped out of the truck and crossed the street. Ryan, Finley, and Sam Clark followed.

  Sam Clark said, “Come on, boy, show us where the bodies are.”

  “Okay,” replied Leon as he started his hike towards the woods.

  “Wait,” said Finley. “Who’s that up over yonder?” Finley pointed to a figure running towards them.

  Sam Clark put his hand over his eyes in an effort to see better. “It looks like Junior,” Clark said. “Junior, is that you?”

  “Yes,” Junior shouted and approached the men. Junior gazed over at the black men. “Who are they, and what are they doing here?”

  Sam Clark pointed to Leon. “That’s Leon Brooks. He’s going to show—”

  Junior interrupted Sam Clark, pulled out his gun, and pointed it at Leon. “Get your fucking hands up, right now, motherfucker,” Junior yelled.

  Leon instinctively raised his hands and said, “Okay, okay, hey, hey, I didn’t do anything,” Leon said trying to calm the situation.

  “Bullshit,” Junior responded. “We got fuckin’ three dead white bodies. You the one that fuckin’ killed them. You and your whole fuckin’ family killed them.”

  “No fuckin’ way,” Leon said defensively.

  “Don’t fuckin’ curse at me, boy. Get the fuck on the ground. All you get on the fuckin’ ground. Right fuckin’ now.”

  Leon, his father, and Mr. Stevens immediately lay down on the ground on their stomachs. Leon saw that his two brothers hesitated. They looked at each other and then at the cops probably contemplating their next move. Fortunately, they eventually joined the others and lay on the ground. Leon figured that his brothers saw the guns and realized that they had no choice.

  “Come on, man, we didn’t do anything,” said Leon’s father. “We had nothing to do with it. Leon was almost hung last night.”

  “Bullshit,” exclaimed Junior. “Just stay on the fuckin’ ground. Okay, I’m going to get the Sheriff, and get him over here.” Junior looked at the other policemen. “You guys make sure to keep them on the fuckin’ ground, and we’ll see what the Sheriff wants to do.”

  ~~~~

  The Sheriff was anxiously waiting for his son to return. He did not like being alone with dead bodies with bugs all over them. After a short while, he regained his composure and started to analyze the crime scene. He tried to figure out what happened. He thought he would start with the obvious—three people were dead. He needed to determine how they died: were they shot or stabbed? He crept closer to the bodies squinting his eyes at the gross sight of the men.

  He first inspected Lucky but did not dare touch him. Lucky was laying on his back. Lucky’s whole shirt was covered in blood, so the Sheriff couldn’t decipher what caused the blood. It was probably a gunshot, he speculated—a powerful one.

  He walked over to Tom Jenkins’s body. Jenkins was laying on his stomach. Similar to Lucky, Jenkins’s shirt was covered in blood. Although the Sheriff couldn’t tell the actual cause of death, the more he thought about the more he thought it must have been a gunshot. It was highly unlikely that men came there and were able to knife three armed men to death. This prompted the Sheriff to inspect Jenkins’s hand to see if there were any defensive wounds, but there were none. Thus, the Sheriff concluded that they must have been shot.

  But who could have shot them? He wondered. He thought two things were for sure: they were black and there was more than one—there was a gang of black people who did this. He figured this was the only explanation. There was no way one person would be able to do this to Lucky and his wrecking crew. Lucky was always armed when he did his jobs. He was a perfectionist.

  Now that he narrowed down that it must have been a gang of black people, he had to determine who would have done this. He figured that it had to be someone close to Leon, who wanted to save him. He figured it had to be Leon’s family or close friends.

  The Sheriff heard a crunching noise from the woods that startled him, so he drew his gun out of the holster for protection.

  Junior emerged, saw his father with the gun pointed at himself, and put his hands up. “Whoa, Dad, it’s me.”

  “Oh, okay,” said the Sheriff. “Did you radio it in, and did you get the crime-scene tape?”

  Junior was breathing heavily and could barely speak clearly, “Dad, Sam, Finley, and Ryan have Leon and his friends laying on the ground just over yonder.”

  “Really? How did they get here?”

  “Ah, I don’t know, but I was almost ready to shoot Leon. That fuckin’ murderer. He killed our boys.”

  “Holy shit. So you got Leon.”

  “Yes.”

  “So they came this quickly after you called it in?”

  “No, I never called it in because they were already there when I got out of the woods.”

  “Okay, what about the tape?”

  “No, I didn’t get the tape. I didn’t get to the car. I came here right after I saw Leon. What do you want to do?”

  Now the Sheriff was breathing heavy. This was unusual. Usually, he was in control of all crime scenes especially ones involving whites against Negroes. He always knew what happened before he went to the crime scene and pretended to do police work. The Sheriff recalled one last year where a Negro was beaten and thrown on Main Street. He knew that Lucky did it because the Sheriff coordinated it along with Acton.

  But this was different. He would actually have to do legitimate police work to determine even what happened. He needed to make decisions. People were relying on him. He could not show weakness. He had to show that he was sure of himself.

  The Sheriff sighed at Junior’s question. “How many people are the guys holding?”

  The Sheriff figured one way to show that he was competent was to ask questions.

  “I didn’t count, but I would say around five.”

  “So, Sam, Ryan, and Finley are by themselves holding a gang of niggers?” asked the Sheriff.

  “Yeah, that’s right, Dad.”

  “Shit, we better get over there and help them.”

  “But what about the crime scene?” asked Junior.

  Junior always irritated the Sheriff. “Well, we got to help them, so we have to leave the crime scene.”

  “We’re just going to leave them here for the animals to eat them?”

  Sheriff had enough. “Junior, shut the fuck up. Do you think I want to leave them here alone? I have no choice. I think that gang of niggers are the ones that killed our boys here. If we don’t help Sam and the others, they might be laying down dead. Now, shut the fuck up and let’s help them out.”

  Junior remained silent but stared at his father with squinty eyes like he wanted to kill him. He sighed loudly. “Okay.”

  ~~~~

  The Sheriff and Junior emerged from the woods and approached the crowd of cops and Negroes. “Where’s Leon?” asked the Sheriff.

  Sam pointed to Leon, who was laying on his stomach.

  The Sheriff walked over to Leon and yelled, “You motherfucker.” As he said this, he kicked him in the side then he kicked him again. “You killed my friends.”

  As soon as he kicked Leon, Deron, Reggie, and their father started getting up to fight back.

  The Sheriff observed this, cocked the hammer on his revolver, and pointed it at Deron, who was closest to the Sheriff. “Get the fuck back on the ground. All of you.”

  They all stopped, realizing that the cops might shoot them.

  Ryan then kicked Deron on the side and yelled. “Get down, boy! I’m not going to tell you again.”

  “Okay, okay,” pleaded James Brooks. “Don’t hurt my boys.”

  “Handcuffed them all,” ordered the Sheriff. “Here, take Junior’s and my cuffs.” The Sheriff and Junior handed their handcuffs to the other cops.

  “Junior, you go back and secure the crime scene.” The Sheriff paused and looked over at the other cops. “Sam, after you cuff them, take them to jail. Keep them there until I tell you otherwise.”

  “Should
I arrest them and book them?” asked Sam.

  “No, not yet. I’ll let you know.” The Sheriff addressed Junior. “Junior, come over here. I need to talk to you.”

  The Sheriff took Junior to the side out of hearing distance from everyone else. “Junior, I have to inform Acton of what happened, and he will probably call the Judge. When I’m done, I’ll return. Don’t mess up the crime scene.”

  “Okay,”

  “Where’s our car at?”

  “It’s over yonder about a half a mile.” Junior said, while pointing in the direction of the car’s location.

  Back at where the Negroes lay down, Leon was dazed and couldn’t believe that the nightmare was continuing. His whole body ached from the repeated kicks, and the cigarette burns still bothered him.

  The cops had cuffed Leon’s other family members and Mr. Stevens first, and then they approached Leon. Ryan kicked Leon again. Leon screamed in pain. “Aaah.”

  “Shut up, boy!” yelled Ryan. “Y’all in a lot of trouble. Y’all going to get the electric chair.”

  “Yeah, I hope they fry,” said Sam Clark.

  Leon decided that the best strategy was to remain quiet as they were defenseless against the armed cops.

  Sam Clark walked over to Deron and stood by his head. He squatted down, grabbed Deron’s hair, and pulled his head up. “You not so tough now are you, boy?”

  “Yeah, you’re real tough now that you have me hand cuffed,” replied Deron.

  Leon couldn’t believe that his brother said that to Sam. Oh my God, thought Leon. They will certainly kill him now. No way will they let that pass by without repercussions.

  Ironically, Sam Clark started laughing and peered over to the other cops. “Hee hee hee. Guys, we got ourselves a dead nigger here—don’t we.” He let go of Deron’s hair, but Deron kept his angry stare at Sam. Sam promptly wound up and kicked Deron in the head. Deron had finally turned his head downwards before the kick came to avoid being kicked in the face. Sam then skipped over to Deron’s side and kicked him repeatedly on his right side. “Now you’re going to respect me boy. You understand?”