Swift Justice: The Southern Way (32 page)

He changed clothes and wiped his naked body of the sweat as best as he could. He really needed another bath because he stunk, but he didn’t have time for that luxury. He put his police uniform on and the Sheriff’s cowboy hat. Although he tried to scrub all the bloodstains off the cowboy hat, he could not get all of it off. There remain wet spots on the hat, but no one should notice these spots from the distance, Junior hoped.

He opened the trunk and put the ax and the items in the garbage bag in the trunk. He would separately discard these items near the lake, or, possibly, he would throw them into the lake. He wasn’t sure exactly how he would get rid of this crucial evidence that could link him to his father’s murder.

He slid open the garage doors, drove the car out into the driveway, got out, and closed the garage doors. He started driving south on various dirt roads. It was dark but there was a full moon. Damn, he wished it wasn’t so relatively bright with the moon light glaring down. He sporadically turned on his heads lights when he couldn’t see where he was going.

This was by far the worst part of the plan. He was driving his dad’s patrol car with his dad’s dead body in the trunk. If anyone stopped him for whatever reason, he would have to kill that person. There was no way around it. They would have to die. Anyone that saw him would have to die.

Junior’s heart was racing as he was driving. He drove as fast as the dirt roads would allow, which was about fifty miles an hour. Behind him, he noticed that the dust from the road spayed into the darkness. He weaved his way south through various dirt roads and then finally reached the industrial areas, which should all be shut down for the evening, especially on a KOT meeting night.

He was right. There was no activity. The roads for the industrial area were paved, albeit they still had major potholes. He successfully weaved his way through the industrial part and arrived near the railroad tracks, the effective dividing line of the Negroes and whites.

The railroad tracks were relatively even with the industrial area but were much higher, about fifteen feet, from the black area. At this junction, someone on the south side would have to climb up to get to the tracks. It was not impossible. In fact, Junior figured that many Negroes had made the climb during their life.

Junior had the car parked to the side, out of sight of anyone in the industrial area and the Negro area. He walked over to the tracks to scope out the best place to put his father’s body. Ideally, he needed it to be on the Negro side. He peered to the south side. There was some shrubbery at the bottom of the slope and vast farmlands. He couldn’t see any farmhouse, but it was dark. This was good. If he couldn’t see a farmhouse, then no one could see him.

He was getting anxious. He needed to get the body out of his hands. A dead body was like dynamite. He had to get rid of it.

Feeling confident that no one was around, he backed the car up to the tracks. It was relatively easy because the industrial area was at the same level. There was literally no incline or decline.

Now, he had to work quickly in case anyone showed up. He opened the trunk, took out the garbage bag and ax, placed them on the side. He wrapped his father in a painter’s drop cloth. The drop cloth was potential evidence against Junior, so he didn’t want his father to be found wrapped in the cloth. He decided that he needed to back his car up even more and actually go over the tracks. This way it would be easier to drop the body down the other side of the tracks.

He carefully backed the car up another ten feet with the back tires going over one set of rails but stopping short of the next rail. It was a single track. Trains either went from east to west or west to east. There were several sections of the tracks, way down the line, where trains could temporarily veer off to separate tracks to allow oncoming trains to pass.

He was breathing uncontrollably. He was nervous that he would get caught. He gathered himself and opened the trunk. He lifted his dad’s head and torso over the trunk’s edge. It wasn’t that hard. He then rolled the body out of the trunk and it fell onto the other side of the railroad tracks but still on level ground. That was smooth he thought. He didn’t really have to lift the body and carry it out of the trunk. He just had to lift it a little bit and then roll it.

“Toot, toot.”

Oh no, he heard the worse sound a person could hear that was stranded on a railroad tracks: a train’s horn.

“Toot, toot, toot.”

Oh shit, he had to get out of there. This was horrible. Not only could he get run over, but people would be looking at the upcoming train. He quickly peered down the track. It was coming from the east side of town. It was still far away about a couple of miles, he estimated.

He had no time to think. He grabbed the drop cloth from one end and kicked his father down the side of the tracks. The drop cloth unfolded and his dad rolled out of the cloth and down the hill. His body plopped down at the bottom. He lay flat on his back. He was not in the shrubbery as Junior hoped he would land. He was between the bottom of the tracks and the shrubbery. He was exposed. Junior gave one quick glance but only could see an outline of his asshole dad.

“Bye daddy,” Junior said sarcastically. “Say, hi to Jerome for me.”

Oh shit, Junior could now see the train, which was only about a mile away, now. He could see its light. Damn, he needed to move fast.

He got into the car, put the car into drive (he had left the car running), and sped away into the darkness of the industrial area. Shortly afterwards, the train, with about fifty cargo containers, sped through the town.

~~~~

Junior sighed heavily. He continued to breathe heavily. He was relieved that he got rid of the body, but now he had to get rid of the car without anyone noticing him. He felt a little safer in that there was no body in his trunk.

“Oh shit,” he said aloud.

The fuckin’ ax and clothes are still by the tracks. Shit! Shit! Shit!

That ax and clothes were his. He would definitely be linked to the murder. He had to get those items. Shit, how stupid could he be. How could he leave those items?

He took an immediate left at the first street, turn left at the next street, and pressed the accelerator. The road ended and he could only turn right. Damn, he didn’t need a detour at this crucial time. He took a left at the next chance and sped south. It was a bumpy road, so he slowed down. He looked to his left and noticed that it was the same warehouse where Cueball was shot.

As he approached the front entrance, he saw Officer Henderson standing outside. Officer Henderson was staring at the approaching patrol car. Junior’s first instinct was just to pass him up and continue back to the tracks to pick up the damaging evidence, and that is what he did. He turned his head to the right so Henderson couldn’t see his face. He pressed on the accelerator and passed by Henderson. He hoped that Henderson wouldn’t follow.

Shit, everything was going wrong. He weaved his way through the buildings and parked in his initial spot before he backed the car onto the tracks. It was still quiet. Fortunately, Henderson apparently didn’t follow him, but the warehouse was only about a mile away.

He darted out of the car and ran to the spot where he left the ax and clothes. Again, it was silent—no one appeared to be around. He peeked over and saw that his dad’s body was still there, unattended. He grabbed the articles and ran to the car. He didn’t bother to open the trunk. There wasn’t enough time. He threw the ax and garbage bag into the back seat, closed the door, and sped away.

Going back, he made sure not to pass by the warehouse where Henderson was stationed.

After about a couple of minutes of driving, he heard from the car radio, “Sheriff, Sheriff Mason, do you copy. Sheriff Mason, this is Officer Henderson. Are you okay?”

Fuck, thought Junior. What should he do? His instinct was to respond to Henderson, but he quickly realized that would be horrible. If he responded, they would know that he was in the patrol car of his dead dad—not good.

“Sheriff, do you copy?” Henderson repeated.

He kept driving and was near the end of the industrial area and soon to the farmlands. Junior figured that maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing. Henderson obviously thought it was the Sheriff in the car because he was calling for the Sheriff. This was actually perfect for Junior. An eyewitness saw his father driving his patrol car. He did not recognize Junior.

Police would speculate that the Sheriff drove to the railroad tracks, was thrown over the side, and axed to death by angry Negroes. But why was he there in the first place? Police would wonder about that. Perhaps he was chasing after someone. But wouldn’t Henderson had seen that? People would ask a number of questions based on this fake theory Junior concocted in his mind. Nevertheless, Junior felt it was good luck that Henderson saw the car and thought it was the Sheriff.

“Henderson to base, Henderson to base,” Henderson was trying to contact the police station.

After about a minute, someone responded, “Go ahead, Henderson.”

“Have you heard from the Sheriff?” asked Henderson.

“No, not recently,” replied Base. “Why what’s up?”

“Well, I just saw the Sheriff speed by the warehouse towards the railroad tracks. He didn’t stop to say hello, and hasn’t responded to my radio requests. Can you try him?”

“Sheriff, this is Base. Do you copy?” The base operator waited. “Sheriff, do you copy?”

There was no response. Junior sat there listening in amusement.

“Henderson, we can’t reach him either.”

“Okay, if you see him, please let me know.”

“Ten-four,” replied Base. “Hey, I’ll give Junior a call to see if he knows where he might be.”

“Shit,” Junior yelled aloud. They’re going to now know I wasn’t home, thought Junior. There goes his alibi, but he really didn’t have a great one anyway to begin with.

“Okay, over and out,” replied Henderson.

~~~~

As soon as Junior got to the farmlands, he turned left on a dirt road heading west towards Route 12 and the lake. This was another crucial part. He would have to cross Route 12, near the lake, and drive right into the shrubbery on the outskirts of the lake. He continued to have his headlights off and finally approached Route 12. He stopped about fifteen feet away from the road and looked in both directions on Route 12.

From the distance, he could see headlights to his left. A vehicle was heading north on Route 12. Shit, Junior was exposed there, on the dirt road. He quickly backed up about fifty yards and gradually stopped. He waited. The car, which was actually a pickup truck, eventually passed.

After the truck was out of sight, he approached the intersection again. This time, he didn’t see any vehicles, so he sped the patrol car across Route 12 and straight into an opening in the shrubbery. He had to turn on his headlights to make sure he didn’t hit any rocks or tree limbs.

He only had to drive about fifty yards to get to the edge of the lake. He stopped the car right at the edge, put it in park, and shut off the lights. He got out, opened the trunk, and took out the ax and garbage bag. He heaved the ax as far as he could into the lake. It traveled about thirty yards and made a little splash. He put large rocks into the garbage bag and hurled that into the lake as well.

Now, the tricky part: getting the car into the lake and submerging it into the water. He had never done this and wasn’t sure how to go about it. He had to hurry, though, because he needed to get to the KOT meeting before anyone else. He looked at his watch. It was five minutes of nine—perfect timing if he quickly pulled off the car submerging.

The ground was about two feet above the lake’s water level. It was flat and didn’t have a gradual slope. He figured he would put the car in neutral and push the car into the lake. He breathed heavily before he started. He first opened all the windows because he figured that it would sink faster. While the car was still running, he opened the door, reached in and quickly put the car in neutral and stepped away to the side of the care.

The car did not move. He went to the back of the car and gave it a big push. It was surprisingly easy. The car eventually plunged head first into the lake, but it severely scraped the bottom part of the car as it fell into the lake. It sank rapidly. Junior was amazed at how quickly it sank. Within minutes, there was no sign of a car in the lake.

He carefully jogged over to where he parked the pickup truck. Man, was he glad that he pre-parked the car near the lake. He would have hated to run back at this point.

He sat in his pickup truck pondering what his next move should be. His original plan was to plant a time bomb on the stage to go off at a certain time. He wanted to severely injured or even kill the evil Klan leaders: the Judge; Acton; Archie; and his dad, but his dad obviously was already dead. Hey, he figured that if he pulled it off, he could take Acton’s place as the local Klan leader and perhaps even run for the Imperial Wizard of the whole state. People would sympathize with him because he lost his father to the brutal killings of niggers.

But he had second thoughts about this grand plan considering that he unexpectedly killed his father. Maybe he should clean up his tracks better for his father’s murder. He really needed to clean up the crime scene at his garage much better. If anyone suspected him and inspected the garage, he would be going to prison. But surely, no one would suspect him so soon considering that he was the Sheriff’s son.

No, a major diversion was better. The town was already ready to start a riot. An explosion at their beloved Klan meeting would certainly spark an immediate riot. Hey, perhaps people would think the Sheriff was killed during the impending riot. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of the bombing. Plus, there would be no stopping of the Texas National Guard from marching into town on the next day.

Once his father’s body was discovered, he would pretend to be devastated and encourage the riot to continue. He would be a hero of the Klan and most likely the next sheriff. Everyone would respect him in town, and he would emerge as the local leader.