Swift Justice: The Southern Way (12 page)

The cops undid Leon’s cuffed legs, Leon walked into the cell, and the cops slammed the cell door shut. Leon reached his arms through the cell door opening, so the cops could undo the handcuffs. The cops left.

“What did they want?” asked Mr. Brooks.

Leon shrugged. “They just asked me what happened on the night of the murders, and I told them … again.”

“Do you think they might let us go, Pops?” asked Deron.

“I don’t know,” replied Mr. Brooks. “I don’t trust them.”

~~~~

The Sheriff yawned. He realized that he barely got any sleep during the last two days. He normally didn’t work the midnight shift, but he had to remain sharp. Everything was in place. He, Acton, and Archie had arranged for a new wrecking crew to take care of Deron. They got Cueball and his two brothers—they were call the Sawyer boys. While Lucky was methodical and more businesslike, the Sawyer boys loved to kill and were much more abrasive. They were true rednecks and had no social skills. They couldn’t operate a construction company like Lucky could, but they could kill and destroy property when asked.

Similar to Lucky, everyone thought Terry Sawyer was called Cueball because he was almost bald, but the real reason was that he liked to bash Negroes’ heads with cueballs. He would cuff one in his hand and smash it on his victim’s head.

The plan was simple. The Sawyer boys would already be in the warehouse hiding in the back. The Sheriff would bring Deron to the secluded warehouse and cuff him to a table that the Klan previously bolted down just like the table in the police station’s interview room. He would keep reassuring Deron that everything was going to be okay. Once he had Deron seated at the table, the Sheriff would make an excuse and say he needed to get something, and he would leave. The Sheriff had instructed the Sawyer boys to wait about thirty minutes before they did anything to give the Sheriff enough time to show himself at the police station—establish an alibi.

After the thirty minutes, the Sheriff instructed Cueball to kill Deron quickly and dispose of his body in a grave that his crew should have already dug out. Then they were supposed to call the Sheriff once they completed the job. The Sheriff would tell Leon and the other Negroes that Deron escaped, and the cops were searching for him.

Now was the crucial part. He had to get Deron from the cell just like he did with Leon and hope that he would go peacefully and wouldn’t cause a raucous. The Sheriff yawned again. He could barely stay awake, but he needed to regain his focus.

He walked down with two other cops at his sides. He noticed that the Negroes were still awake from when he just released Leon back into the cell.

The Sheriff called out, “Okay, Deron, it’s your turn. We need to ask you a few questions.”

Amazingly, to the Sheriff’s relief, Deron did not object. The Sheriff’s men cuffed both his hands and legs, and walked him out of the cell area with the two cops following. He directed Deron to go outside to the back because there were still about ten Negroes protesting outside in front.

“Where we going?” asked Deron, while he was hobbling along with the leg cuffs on.

“I need to take you to the crime scene to ask you a few questions.”

“Can’t you take these leg cuffs off of me? It’s hard to walk.”

“I will eventually, but I just have to confirm a few things with you.”

“Like what?”

“Look, if everything checks out, then I think we can release you tonight. I just need to make sure of a few things. We have been investigating the crime, and we think Leon may have been telling the truth.”

The Sheriff guided Deron to the police car’s back seat and quickly drove off trying to escape notice of the protestors in front. The Sheriff didn’t think anyone from the front saw him, so he kept driving to the warehouse destination. The Sheriff wanted Deron to relax, so he decided to engage in small talk.

“So, Deron, is Leon your younger brother?” asked the Sheriff.

“Yes, he is three years younger.”

“Who’s tougher?”

“Me, of course.”

The Sheriff continued with the small talk, which seem to work as Deron appeared to be more relaxed. There were literally no cars on the road as it was almost one in the morning.

Finally, the Sheriff pulled slowly up to the secluded warehouse and parked the car. The facility, which included three other buildings, used to be ammunition plant for World War II. It closed shortly after the big war, but then reopened for the Korean War but on a much smaller scale. It closed again about one year earlier in 1953 after the Korean War ended. The three other buildings served as the actual manufacturing plants, but the finished ammunition was stored in the warehouse, a massive facility.

Deron was getting fidgety in the back. “What are we doing here?” Deron asked nervously. “I thought you said that we were going to the crime scene.”

“Well, actually there are two crime scenes. I’m going to take you to both. We think your brother was brought here before they brought him to the woods. We want to see if you can identify some items in here to see if they are Leon’s.”

“Why didn’t you just bring Leon here for that?”

The Sheriff ignored his question and got out of the car, walked around to Deron’s side, and opened Deron’s door. He gently grabbed Deron’s arm. “Okay, come on this shouldn’t take long.”

Deron resisted and would not get up. “Sir, I don’t want to go in there. Please just take me back to jail.”

“Deron, it’s no big deal. I just need to confirm a few things, and then I will release you if everything checks out. I promise.”

Deron hesitantly got out the car. The Sheriff opened the warehouse’s screechy door. He led Deron into the warehouse, turned on a light switch by the door, and simultaneously a few low wattages, dimly-lit bulbs illuminated above a rectangular table. The dim lights could not reveal the vastness of the warehouse, but the Sheriff knew the layout well. The warehouse was the size of two football fields with rows of empty shelves, hundreds of empty pallets, and other miscellaneous boxes and old equipment. Also, Cueball should have already parked his car inside as cars or even semi-trucks could drive straight in from the back.

There were several chairs positioned around the table. The Sheriff needed to keep Deron calm.

“Okay, Deron, come over and sit over here by the table.”

Deron sighed in what the Sheriff thought was in fear, but Deron did not say anything. He obeyed and sat at the table. The Sheriff took the chain that was bolted to the table and connected it to Leon’s handcuffs, essentially securing him to the bolted table.

“Okay, so what do you want me to look at?” asked Deron. “You said you wanted me to identify items.”

“Oh yeah, I have to get something from the squad car. Hang on a second.”

“Wait a second. I thought you wanted me to identify items from the warehouse. Why do you have to go to the car?”

“Look, I’ll be right back. I have to actually get something from the other crime scene that I forgot?”

“What?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back—just hang tight.”

“Wait a minute. How long do I have to wait here? Why can’t you just bring me with you? I don’t want to stay here by myself.”

“Look, I’ll be right back, and then I’ll let you go if everything checks out.”

“Okay. … I guess I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, that’s right. You don’t have a choice.”

The Sheriff left and closed the door behind him. He was relieved that his part of the plan was done, and it went fairly smoothly.

Bye, bye, Deron, he thought.

~~~~

Deron sat defensively at the table shivering. He wasn’t sure if he was shivering because it was a chilling autumn night or if he was scared. Nothing added up for Deron. He felt like they were setting him up. Why didn’t they just interview him at the police station and show him the items in question? He asked himself. Deron may have sounded tough in front of the police earlier and in front of his family, but Deron was terrified of the white man. Not that he was scared of them physically. He felt that he could beat all of them up if it was a fair match, but it wasn’t fair in Dodge County. The police and the white man controlled everything. A Negro could not fight a white man without severe consequences.

But Deron did feel a glimmer of hope that the Sheriff would release him.

After about what seemed like a long time, the hope vanished as Deron heard the sounds of footsteps approaching from behind him. He turned his head and peeked to the back. Out of the darkness, between the shelving, appeared three white men. Deron did not recognize them, but they had guns.

Oh no, Deron thought. This
was
a setup after all. They were going to kill him just like they tried to kill his little brother. How could he be so stupid to agree to come with the Sheriff, he thought. Of course, he probably didn’t have a choice.

A bald man strolled around the table and faced Deron. Two other men flanked Deron on each side.

Deron spoke first. “Hey, I’m waiting for the Sheriff. What do y’all want?”

“What do we want?” the bald man said, like he was momentarily confused. “Your name is Deron, right? Deron Brooks, right?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“Deron, I hear that you killed my friends: Lucky Bennett, John Favors, and Tom Jenkins.”

“No, no, no, no. It’s not me. I did not kill them. I was nowhere near there.”

“That’s not what we hear, boy. You have killed them, and you have to pay for that, boy. You can’t be killing white people.”

“Look, man, I did not do that. Um, the Sheriff is going to be right here. He says he’s going to let me go tonight. He’s done some investigating.”

The men chuckled in unison.

“Look, motherfucker, he has done the investigation. He has told us that
you
killed our friends. And now,
you
must die.”

“No, man, please!” Deron begged. “Please, please. They just tried to kill my baby brother. Please don’t kill me. Please. I got a lawyer.”

The bald man chuckled. “You’re going to try to pull a lawyer on us at this time. You must not know what the fuck you’re talking—”

“Bang!”

Deron heard a gunshot from behind. The bald man stopped speaking because he was shot in the chest. He instinctively grabbed his chest and fell to the ground. Deron shuddered because he was sure he would be next in the shootout that was quickly mounting.

The other two men turned towards the back where the shot came from.

Another shot was fired and hit the guy on Deron’s right, closest to the door. He immediately fell to the ground. The other guy, who hadn’t been shot at, fired two shots with his gun back into the darkness. He then ran towards the door. Deron could hear the shooter reloading his weapon.

Another shot rang out at the man running away, but it missed. Deron glanced over his shoulder and could barely see an outline of the shooter moving closer from the darkness. The shooter reloaded his weapon again, aimed, and fired again.

This time it hit the man as he was opening the door, but it looked like it only got his left shoulder. The man shouted in pain, but ran out the door.

The shooter emerged from the darkness. He was wearing a white hooded mask, overalls, gloves, and completely covered with clothing—just like Leon described the man who saved Leon. The shooter darted towards the door and started chasing the other man who got away.

The door remained open about half way. Deron was still cuffed to the table. He could hear moans from one of the men on the ground, but the other one was silent.

Deron froze.

What was going to happen to him?

~~~~

After an antagonizing few minutes, the shooter reappeared in the warehouse and closed the door behind him. Deron noticed that the shooter appeared flustered and panicky. Amazingly, Deron did not feel any fear. He felt that the shooter would have already harmed him, and this guy was the guy who saved his brother—he was a good guy, or so he hoped.

The shooter pointed the rifle at the two men on the ground. He kicked away one of the revolvers and picked it up. He momentarily pointed it at Deron. Deron stared at the shooter, holding his breath, not knowing what to do. He could see that the man had a black mask on underneath the white hood around his eyes.

To Deron quick relief, the shooter turned the gun away from Deron and pointed it at the man that was moaning.

The shooter shot the man moaning. Then the shooter pointed it at the other guy and shot him too.

Deron could barely breathe. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Would he be next? The shooter had already pointed the gun at him.

The shooter searched one of the two men and took out the person’s keys. He tossed the keys to Deron then ran away into the darkness. After a short while, Deron could hear a door from the rear open and then close. Deron figured that the shooter escaped through the back.

Deron quickly, with shaky hands, used the key to free himself from the hand and leg cuffs.

Deron sat there momentarily not knowing what to do. Where could he go? The police were just involved in trying to have him killed. Who knows where the other guy was hiding or whether he was still alive.

He couldn’t stay in the warehouse with two dead white guys and another injured white guy nearby. If he went to his house, the cops would find him. He would have to find a safe haven in his neighborhood … somewhere.

The Sheriff waited patiently by the phone at the police station. It was half past two a.m., about an hour after he dropped off Deron. The Sheriff figured that Cueball wouldn’t be finished with the job for about another hour. Nevertheless, the Sheriff told them to call him by three a.m. no matter what the status was.

To the Sheriff’s surprise, the phone rang early. “Hello,” said the Sheriff.

“Sheriff, this is Paulie.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” asked the Sheriff.

“Oh my God! I’ve been shot. I think my brothers have been killed. Things went bad. Things went terribly bad.”

“What do you mean? Wait … wait … stop. Where are you?”

“I’m at the hospital. I’ve been shot in the arm. It’s killing me. They’re ready to work on me. I hitched a ride to get here.” Paul started weeping. “My brothers, I think they’re dead. They’ve been shot.”