The town almost blew up. The whites wanted to string him up on Main Street. The blacks felt pretty strongly the boy was getting railroaded. Things were tense. Lots of fights at the high school. Then I got fired and moved on.”
“Why were you fired?”
“Stupid. Stayed too long in a bar one night. The cops busted me for drunk driving, then they realized the truck and tags were stolen. I spent a week in jail.”
“In Slone?”
“Yep. Check it out. January 1999. Charged with grand larceny, drunk driving, and whatever else they could throw at me.”
“Was Drumm in the same jail?”
“Never saw him, but there was a lot of talk. Rumor was they’d moved him to another county for safety reasons. I couldn’t help but laugh. The cops had the real killer, they just didn’t know it.”
Keith made notes, but had trouble believing what he was actually writing. He asked, “How’d you get out?”
“They assigned me a lawyer. He got my bond lowered. I bailed out, skipped town, and never went back. I drifted here and there and then got arrested in Wichita.”
“Do you remember the lawyer’s name?”
“You still fact-checking, Pastor?”
“Yes.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“No, but it doesn’t hurt to check the facts.”
“No, I don’t remember his name. I’ve had a lot of lawyers in my life. Never paid ’em a dime.”
“The arrest in Wichita was for attempted rape, right?”
“Sort of. Attempted sexual battery, plus kidnapping. There was no sex, didn’t make it that far. The girl knew karate. Things didn’t go the way I planned. She kicked me in the balls and I puked for two days.”
“I believe your sentence was ten years. You served six, now you’re here.”
“Nice job, Pastor. You’ve done your homework.”
“Did you keep up with the Drumm case?”
“Oh, I thought about it off and on for a few years. I figured the lawyers and courts would eventually realize they had the wrong boy. I mean, hell, even in Texas they have higher courts to review cases and such. Surely, somebody along the way would wake up and see the obvious. Over time, I guess I forgot about it. Had my own problems. When you’re in max security, you don’t spend a lot of time worrying about other people.”
“What about Nikki? You spend time thinking about her?”
Boyette did not respond, and as the seconds limped along, it becameobvious that he would not answer the question. Keith kept scribbling, making notes to himself about what to do next. Nothing was certain.
“Do you have any sympathy for her family?”
“I was raped when I was eight years old. I don’t recall a single word of sympathy from anyone. In fact, no one raised a hand to stop it. It went on. You’ve seen my record, Pastor, I’ve had several victims. I couldn’t stop. Not sure I can stop now. Obviously, sympathy is not something I waste time with.”
Keith shook his head with a look of disgust.
“Don’t get me wrong, Pastor. I have a lot of regrets. I wish I hadn’t done all those terrible things. I’ve wished a million times that I could be normal. My whole life I’ve wanted to stop hurting people, to somehow straighten up, stay out of prison, get a job, and all that. I didn’t choose to be like this.”
Keith deliberately folded the sheet of paper and tucked it into his coat pocket. He screwed the cap onto his pen. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at Boyette. “I guess you’re willing to sit by and let things run their course down in Texas.”
“No, I’m troubled by it. I’m just not sure what to do.”
“What if they found the body? You tell me where she’s buried, and I’ll try to contact the right people down there.”
“You sure you want to get involved?”
“No, but I can’t ignore it either.”
Boyette bent forward and began pawing at his head again. “It’s impossible for anybody else to find her,” he said, his voice breaking up. A moment passed, and the pain eased. “I’m not sure I could
“Why were you fired?”
“Stupid. Stayed too long in a bar one night. The cops busted me for drunk driving, then they realized the truck and tags were stolen. I spent a week in jail.”
“In Slone?”
“Yep. Check it out. January 1999. Charged with grand larceny, drunk driving, and whatever else they could throw at me.”
“Was Drumm in the same jail?”
“Never saw him, but there was a lot of talk. Rumor was they’d moved him to another county for safety reasons. I couldn’t help but laugh. The cops had the real killer, they just didn’t know it.”
Keith made notes, but had trouble believing what he was actually writing. He asked, “How’d you get out?”
“They assigned me a lawyer. He got my bond lowered. I bailed out, skipped town, and never went back. I drifted here and there and then got arrested in Wichita.”
“Do you remember the lawyer’s name?”
“You still fact-checking, Pastor?”
“Yes.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“No, but it doesn’t hurt to check the facts.”
“No, I don’t remember his name. I’ve had a lot of lawyers in my life. Never paid ’em a dime.”
“The arrest in Wichita was for attempted rape, right?”
“Sort of. Attempted sexual battery, plus kidnapping. There was no sex, didn’t make it that far. The girl knew karate. Things didn’t go the way I planned. She kicked me in the balls and I puked for two days.”
“I believe your sentence was ten years. You served six, now you’re here.”
“Nice job, Pastor. You’ve done your homework.”
“Did you keep up with the Drumm case?”
“Oh, I thought about it off and on for a few years. I figured the lawyers and courts would eventually realize they had the wrong boy. I mean, hell, even in Texas they have higher courts to review cases and such. Surely, somebody along the way would wake up and see the obvious. Over time, I guess I forgot about it. Had my own problems. When you’re in max security, you don’t spend a lot of time worrying about other people.”
“What about Nikki? You spend time thinking about her?”
Boyette did not respond, and as the seconds limped along, it becameobvious that he would not answer the question. Keith kept scribbling, making notes to himself about what to do next. Nothing was certain.
“Do you have any sympathy for her family?”
“I was raped when I was eight years old. I don’t recall a single word of sympathy from anyone. In fact, no one raised a hand to stop it. It went on. You’ve seen my record, Pastor, I’ve had several victims. I couldn’t stop. Not sure I can stop now. Obviously, sympathy is not something I waste time with.”
Keith shook his head with a look of disgust.
“Don’t get me wrong, Pastor. I have a lot of regrets. I wish I hadn’t done all those terrible things. I’ve wished a million times that I could be normal. My whole life I’ve wanted to stop hurting people, to somehow straighten up, stay out of prison, get a job, and all that. I didn’t choose to be like this.”
Keith deliberately folded the sheet of paper and tucked it into his coat pocket. He screwed the cap onto his pen. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at Boyette. “I guess you’re willing to sit by and let things run their course down in Texas.”
“No, I’m troubled by it. I’m just not sure what to do.”
“What if they found the body? You tell me where she’s buried, and I’ll try to contact the right people down there.”
“You sure you want to get involved?”
“No, but I can’t ignore it either.”
Boyette bent forward and began pawing at his head again. “It’s impossible for anybody else to find her,” he said, his voice breaking up. A moment passed, and the pain eased. “I’m not sure I could
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