Read Online Swift Justice: The Southern Way by R.P. Wolff - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: R.P. Wolff
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Junior pointed over to the car. “Then they probably dragged Leon to the tree. My guess is that a group of niggers must have followed them and snuck up and killed them all.”
“So that means that they must have had guns.”
“That is one thing we know for sure because Lucky’s shotgun is still here. Plus, there had to be more than one person. There’s no way that one person could handle three armed men.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
The Sheriff paused because he heard a noise like footsteps approaching. He gazed over to the entry point and saw that Billy and his assistants had arrived.
“Hey, Billy, over here,” the Sheriff directed Billy to come over to the Sheriff.
“Holy shit, Sheriff,” said Billy. “We got ourselves a mess here. Do you know who did it?”
The Sheriff didn’t want to leak any information to a non-citizen of the Klan. Billy was not a citizen and was a borderline nigger lover, but he was an excellent coroner. That was why the Sheriff tolerated him.
“No, not yet,” the Sheriff responded.
Junior, with a puzzled look, glanced to the Sheriff.
“Billy, Junior and I have to get back to the station,” said the Sheriff. “Can you handle it from here?”
Billy hesitated. “Um … yes.”
“Great. Please call me with your preliminary results as to the cause of death. Junior and I think they were shot, but we want to make sure.”
“Sure.”
~~~~
“Clank, clank, clank.” The Sheriff dragged his billy club across the iron bars of the jail cell.
“Wake you up you fuckin’ niggers. Wake up!”
Leon snapped out of his deep sleep. He must have passed out. He was exhausted from the previous night and realized that he had been awake for over twenty-four hours. Even though he slept on an uncomfortable metal bed frame, with no mattress, he must have fallen asleep right away. He noticed that his brothers, his papa, and Mr. Stevens must have fallen asleep as well as they were yawning and stretching.
The cops threw them into two cells, but there were only four metal beds that could be raised and lowered from the wall with an attached bracket. Deron, who was in the cell with his father and Mr. Stevens, gave them the makeshift beds, while he lay on the floor.
Junior and Sam Clark, both holding shotguns, were behind the Sheriff.
Leon thought for a brief moment that they might shoot him right there in the cell.
“Leon, get up. We need to talk to you.”
Leon immediately got up. His family and friends glanced over to him with concerned looks. Leon wasn’t sure if he should mention to the Sheriff that he had an attorney. He decided against it, at this point, because Leon wanted to tell his side of the story. After all, he had nothing to hide—well, except that he was the one that kicked the white men, but they were already dead, Leon justified to himself.
The Sheriff put handcuffs on Leon while Leon was still in the cell. Then, they swung open the cell door. Junior and Sam had their shotguns pointed at the other men in the cell to discourage them from making any moves.
On the way to the dreaded “interview” room, Leon saw a clock that showed that it was little past 10:15. Since it was still light out, Leon realized that he only slept for about an hour, and it was still morning. He wondered when his attorney, Howard Goldstein would get there, although he didn’t think Goldstein would be able to do anything in Dodge County. There was no law in Dodge County.
Junior guided Leon into the interview room with a black number one above the door. The room had no windows, and the walls were a dull gray. The floor was concrete with no tile. There was a hanging light from the ceiling similar to a light above a pool table. There were six fold up steel chairs spread around a rectangular table that was bolted to the concrete. On the table was an eyehook attached to the table with a chain permanently affixed to it. Junior took the chain and attached it to Leon’s handcuffs, so now Leon
“So that means that they must have had guns.”
“That is one thing we know for sure because Lucky’s shotgun is still here. Plus, there had to be more than one person. There’s no way that one person could handle three armed men.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
The Sheriff paused because he heard a noise like footsteps approaching. He gazed over to the entry point and saw that Billy and his assistants had arrived.
“Hey, Billy, over here,” the Sheriff directed Billy to come over to the Sheriff.
“Holy shit, Sheriff,” said Billy. “We got ourselves a mess here. Do you know who did it?”
The Sheriff didn’t want to leak any information to a non-citizen of the Klan. Billy was not a citizen and was a borderline nigger lover, but he was an excellent coroner. That was why the Sheriff tolerated him.
“No, not yet,” the Sheriff responded.
Junior, with a puzzled look, glanced to the Sheriff.
“Billy, Junior and I have to get back to the station,” said the Sheriff. “Can you handle it from here?”
Billy hesitated. “Um … yes.”
“Great. Please call me with your preliminary results as to the cause of death. Junior and I think they were shot, but we want to make sure.”
“Sure.”
~~~~
“Clank, clank, clank.” The Sheriff dragged his billy club across the iron bars of the jail cell.
“Wake you up you fuckin’ niggers. Wake up!”
Leon snapped out of his deep sleep. He must have passed out. He was exhausted from the previous night and realized that he had been awake for over twenty-four hours. Even though he slept on an uncomfortable metal bed frame, with no mattress, he must have fallen asleep right away. He noticed that his brothers, his papa, and Mr. Stevens must have fallen asleep as well as they were yawning and stretching.
The cops threw them into two cells, but there were only four metal beds that could be raised and lowered from the wall with an attached bracket. Deron, who was in the cell with his father and Mr. Stevens, gave them the makeshift beds, while he lay on the floor.
Junior and Sam Clark, both holding shotguns, were behind the Sheriff.
Leon thought for a brief moment that they might shoot him right there in the cell.
“Leon, get up. We need to talk to you.”
Leon immediately got up. His family and friends glanced over to him with concerned looks. Leon wasn’t sure if he should mention to the Sheriff that he had an attorney. He decided against it, at this point, because Leon wanted to tell his side of the story. After all, he had nothing to hide—well, except that he was the one that kicked the white men, but they were already dead, Leon justified to himself.
The Sheriff put handcuffs on Leon while Leon was still in the cell. Then, they swung open the cell door. Junior and Sam had their shotguns pointed at the other men in the cell to discourage them from making any moves.
On the way to the dreaded “interview” room, Leon saw a clock that showed that it was little past 10:15. Since it was still light out, Leon realized that he only slept for about an hour, and it was still morning. He wondered when his attorney, Howard Goldstein would get there, although he didn’t think Goldstein would be able to do anything in Dodge County. There was no law in Dodge County.
Junior guided Leon into the interview room with a black number one above the door. The room had no windows, and the walls were a dull gray. The floor was concrete with no tile. There was a hanging light from the ceiling similar to a light above a pool table. There were six fold up steel chairs spread around a rectangular table that was bolted to the concrete. On the table was an eyehook attached to the table with a chain permanently affixed to it. Junior took the chain and attached it to Leon’s handcuffs, so now Leon
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