Swift Justice: The Southern Way (11 page)

The Sheriff saw the state trooper and Goldstein pull up and get out of their cars. There was another person that pulled up and got out that had a camera. Oh no, thought the Sheriff. The other guy must be the Austin newspaper reporter.

Mama Brooks continued with her demands. “Sheriff, I’m not leaving until you release them.”

The Sheriff could see the newspaper guy taking pictures. Then he handed the camera to Goldstein, so the newspaper guy could take notes from his pad of paper that he pulled out.

“Well, then, you could be here for a long time,” the Sheriff replied to the Mama Brooks.

“Sheriff, don’t take shit from her,” said another white man from the crowd.

The Sheriff whispered to Junior. “Junior, go inside and tell Henderson to have someone get the noose and torch from the crime scene, and make sure someone is out there to guard the crime scene from now on.”

“Even at night?” asked Junior.

“Yes, even at night.”

Junior went inside, and the Sheriff turned back to the crowd. He figured his best strategy was to get rid of the white people first. They would listen to him because most, if not all of them, knew he was a powerful Klan leader. While looking at the white portion of the crowd, he said, “I’m not going to tell you again, but you better get your asses out of here in the next ten seconds. I can assure you that we are going to find the people responsible and punish them. Now, get out of here, right now.”

The white people hesitantly started to disembark. The Sheriff’s message must have gotten through because none of them said anything as they left the area.

The Sheriff patiently waited until the white crowd finally dispersed. He then turned to the black crowd. He wanted to pacify them for now—so the Klan could complete their mission. “Look, we will make a decision tomorrow whether we are going to press charges on your family,” the Sheriff said while looking at Mama Brooks. “We have forty-eight hours to decide and it only has been less then twenty-four hours.”

“Sheriff, Leon didn’t do anything,” pleaded Mama Brooks. “He was a victim.”

“Look, we are still investigating and have not made a decision yet.”

The Sheriff could see Goldstein, the reporter, and the state trooper had made their way to the crowd. He wanted to end this situation before they had a chance to intrude, but he was too late.

“Sheriff, what do you make of the noose at the crime scene?” asked the newspaper reporter, while holding his pen and a pad of paper, ready to write.

“That’s the noose that they were going to use on my son,” explained Mama Brooks.

Damn, thought the Sheriff. They already saw the noose. It was now too late to retrieve it. The Sheriff realized that he messed up and should have instinctively remove it initially. The Judge would be pissed. The Sheriff had to have a response.

“Like I said before, we are still investigating the matter,” replied the Sheriff.

“Mr. Goldstein, can they keep my family locked up?” Mama Brooks asked Goldstein.

“Mrs. Brooks, let’s go over to my car and speak over here.”

Mama Brooks headed over to Goldstein’s car.

The Sheriff was glad that Goldstein distracted her, but the rest of the crowd was not moving. He decided to pull a bluff on the crowd. “As I mentioned, we are not going to make a decision on whether we’re going to press charges until tomorrow. If you want to wait out here until then, go ahead.”

The Sheriff abruptly turned and walked into the police station.

~~~~

It was about 4:30 p.m., and Goldstein, the reporter, and the state trooper headed to the nearest hotel to get a room. They realized that they were going to have to wait out the events. Ryan Ward had telephoned in the news story to the Austin Gazette. The Austin Gazette would then wire their story to key local Texas areas and to the Associated Press, who would then distribute it nationwide. Ryan hoped that the story would be ready for most six o’clock radio and television news broadcasts.

They went to the Walnut Hill Lane Hotel, which was located on Walnut Lane. Walnut Lane was located one block west of Main Street. It was a three-story, brown, bricked hotel. It was a fairly new hotel.

There were no stairs, so the doorman opened the door for the men. Except for the state trooper, each man was carrying a small duffel bag. The state trooper approached the front desk first, which was located straight ahead from the front door.

“How can I help you officer?” asked the person at the front desk.

“We would like three rooms,” replied the state trooper.

“Officer, what is your name, please?”

“I am Officer Jake Wright. Why do you want to know?”

“Well, you want to check into my hotel. I need to know who you are.”

“Okay, now you know who I am. Can we have our rooms please?”

“Who are you two?” The person pointed to Ryan Ward and Howard Goldstein.

“I am a reporter from the Austin Gazette. My name is Ryan Ward. What is your name?”

“I am Jim Bellows. I own this hotel. What’s your name?” He asked while pointing at Goldstein.

“If you must know, my name is Howard Goldstein.”

“Okay, now that we all know each other, can we have our rooms please,” said Ryan Ward sarcastically.

“We only have one room available, and the state trooper gets it.”

“Yeah right,” said Ryan Ward. “Your hotel doesn’t seem that busy. You have more than one room available.”

“No, I don’t. That’s all I have. The state trooper can stay. The rest of you can’t. Try another hotel.”

“Are you serious?” Ward asked in a threatening tone. “You’re not going to let a reporter from the leading newspaper in Texas and a victim’s attorney stay at your hotel?”

“That’s right, Jew boy.”

“I’m not Jewish, but my friend here is. So you don’t rent to Jews?”

“Look, I don’t have any room here. I told you that already. Also, this Jew boy’s client killed three of our citizens. He’s going to fry.”

Officer Jake Wright spoke up. “Wait a minute.” He faced Ward and Goldstein. “You guys can stay in my room. Two of us will sleep on the floor, and one of us will have the bed.”

“Wow, that’s really nice of you,” said Goldstein.

“You are only allowed one person in a room,” said Bellows.

Wright walked around the front desk and stood hovering over Bellow’s side. “I’ll have anyone I want to stay in my room. Do you have a problem with that?”

“I’ll have to make a phone call.”

“Bullshit you will,” replied Wright. “Check us in, and give me the key to the room.”

“Look, just give us all our separate rooms,” said Ward. “The jig is up. We know you have extra rooms. We’re going to stay in your hotel one way or the other, so you might as well sell us individual rooms. Don’t you want to make some money?”

Bellows had a worried look on his face. “I need to make a phone call.”

“Who are you going to call? The Klan?” asked Goldstein.

“Never mind, who I’m calling. You guys have a seat in our lobby.”

“Okay, but we’re not waiting long.”

Bellows called the Sheriff at the police station and eventually got through to him. He informed the Sheriff of the situation. The Sheriff told him to go ahead and rent to them individually, since they were going to stay at the hotel anyway.

“Okay, y’all. Come on back to the desk.”

The three men approached the desk.

“Okay, we had some cancellations, so I can give each of you a room.”

“Thank you so much for your hospitality,” said Goldstein sarcastically.

~~~~

It was near six p.m., and the Sheriff was anxiously awaiting the six o’clock radio news. He was at the police station, sitting by the large radio along with the other officers on duty. The Sheriff was hoping that the local news wouldn’t mention the noose. Although the Klan tried numerous times to control the local media through intimidation and other tactics, the Klan couldn’t completely control the local media. Nevertheless, the media needed advertisers and most of their market was racist, white people, so they spin their stories to appeal to their market. But the Sheriff was worried because the reporter from the Austin Gazette was in town, so the Austin newspapers might influence the local media to provide an accurate news story. A radio newscast interrupted the Sheriff’s thoughts.

The Sheriff had mixed feelings on the broadcasts. On one hand, they praised the Sheriff for calming things down. On the other hand, they mentioned the dreaded noose. Plus, the media seemed to be encouraging a riot. And who was spreading the rumors that the media and the FBI were on their way? This troubled the Sheriff.

The phone rang in the background and someone answered it. The phone call was for the Sheriff. The Sheriff speculated that it was either the Judge or Acton.

“Hello,” said the Sheriff.

“Sheriff, this is Atwood. What the fuck is going on here? I thought I told you to get that noose. What happened?”

“I was too late. When I got out of our meeting, the newspaper guy asked a question about the noose. I was going to send Henderson to remove it, but it was too late. They saw it. They probably got pictures of it.”

“Shit,” replied the Judge. “This is not going good. What’s this thing about the FBI and the national media? Do you think they’re really coming?”

“I don’t know, but I think it is national news now. That guy from the Austin Gazette must have phoned in the news story. This could be national news. Who knows, maybe it will hit the ten o’clock network news.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think we should still go through with our plan?” asked the Sheriff.

“Absolutely. It’s not going to change a thing. In fact, it makes everything perfect. We pin it on the nigger, Deron. However, I want you to bring Deron to the warehouse—not one of your other guys. I want it done right. Reassure him that you just want to confirm their story. Keep him relaxed.”

“Okay, it’s set then. Tomorrow will be Deron’s last day of his life.”

“Clang, clang, clang.” The Sheriff rattled his billy club across the iron prison bars.

Leon jumped up from a deep sleep and saw the Sheriff and two other officers standing by his cell.

“Leon, I need to see you for a moment,” said the Sheriff.

“What for?” asked Leon.

“I need to ask you a few questions. It won’t take long.”

Leon peered over to the clock down the hall. It was a little past midnight. This meant that it was early morning. Leon wondered why he wanted to question him this early in the morning. This was not good, thought Leon. They were probably going to kill him. Nothing good ever happened after midnight for a Negro when it came to the police. Leon didn’t know what to say, but he had to come up with something to avoid going with the Sheriff.

Leon finally spoke. “Sheriff, my attorney has advised me not to speak to you without him being present.”

“Okay, I’ll go call him at the Walnut Hill Lane Hotel and have him come over. Let’s go.”

“Call him first and then I’ll come out.”

“Look, you don’t have a choice around here. Get your hands over here by the door, so I can cuff you.”

“Sheriff, please don’t take my boy,” pleaded Mr. Brooks.

“Look, you guys are worried about nothing. I just want to ask Leon a few questions to confirm a few things. We have to make a decision by tomorrow whether to press charges, and the evidence is looking like Leon’s story is true. I just need to confirm a few things. I swear that it will only take about five minutes.”

“Why can’t you just ask him here, in the cell?” asked Mr. Brooks.

“Actually, I need to speak to several of you, individually. I want to make sure your stories are consistent. I’m serious. We discovered something that may clear you all. Now are you coming or not?”

Leon didn’t trust him, but he really had no choice. Plus, Leon felt a twinge of hope that they might release him after all. Leon approached the door and held out his hands. The cops cuffed him and swung open the cell door. Leon stepped out, and the cops closed the door.

“Okay, spread your legs,” said the Sheriff. “We need to cuff your legs.”

“Why?” asked Leon.

“Because you might try to escape. Now spread your legs.”

Leon thought this was weird because they were just going to supposedly ask him a few questions. Why did they need to put cuffs on his legs? He obeyed, and they cuffed his legs. They brought him into the same interview room he went to before.

The Sheriff asked Leon to repeat what occurred on the night of the murders. Leon told them the same story that he originally told the cops in Leon’s original interrogation. Leon was on edge the whole time because he thought it was some kind of trap. But, to his surprise, they took him back to his cell. The whole process only took about fifteen minutes.