 
Sycamore Tales

By Bobby A. Troutt

Copyright 2012 Bobby A. Troutt

Smashwords Edition

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Table of Contents

B-4

Voyage of Death

Ferguson's Trestle at Swindler's Point

Other Side of Nowhere

The Garden of the Seventh Trellis

Plea of Not Guilty

*****

Sycamore Tales

B-4

John Patrick Doyle #748912

Stoney River State Correction Facility

Cell Block B, Cell 4 – McCoy County

Little Creek, Tennessee

It was the spring of 1973 when I laid down in my bunk to the clicking sound of the cell doors of B-block being locked down for the night. The last things I heard were the footsteps of the guard walking away and the dangling of his keys as he turned the main lock for the cell doors to close. When the guard killed the lights, there was nothing but darkness all around. I laid there listening to the snoring of some of the other inmates down the block. Sometimes, in the night, I can hear someone fighting, screaming and hollering from being raped. Somehow, someway they are able to get to you whether it is through a crooked guard or a gang. The strong survive and the weak fall; the weak have no chance or mercy. When the locks turn, during the day or night, everyone is vulnerable and subject to die. If you were one of the fortunate ones, you lived to see another day. I learned very quickly to stay to myself and not fall victim to the hands of others. There is constant fighting, stabbing and raping behind these walls; it seems to be the normal way of life behind prison walls. Prison seems to have a way of turning animals into worse animals. If your life on the outside is rough, nine times out of ten it is only going to get worse on the inside. The stale 'dead air' from the block lingers with the dominating smell of sweat and body odor. The bars have been painted many times but they are still chipped and rusted in several places. Each cell has a bunk and a stainless steel commode with a sink on top. The concrete block wall cell that houses each inmate is only a six foot by eight foot square with concrete floors. The bullpen where we hang out, play cards and kill time is located between the two cell block towers. That is where we mix and mingle with each other, but we are still caged in like animals with the guards watching over us with guns. Sometimes I wonder if it ain't just as bad on the outside.

From time to time, I think back of when I was growing up and how I used to live on the streets. I prowled around a lot and slept wherever I could, under bridges, city parks and sometimes in fields. I would go around to restaurants and do small jobs like sweeping the parking lot or taking out the trash in exchange for something to eat. When the weather was bad I would sleep on sheltered park tables. If the weather was really bad I would go to the nearby mission. I carried a small bucket around with me so I could get water in to wash up; I hardly ever had soap. When it was warm, I would take my clothes off down to my shorts and wash. In the winter I washed at the mission. One time when I was taking a shower at the mission, three men came in and tried to rape me. Fortunately, I was able to back them off with my knife and get away. There are so many stories and so many things, at times, that make me wonder how I even survived on the street. I was taken to jail I don't know how many times for loitering. It's funny when you are young how things go and you never think twice about the outcome. And when you get older, you think things will get better but they don't. What we fail to realize is that it all boils down to the choices we make.

I was sitting in my cell playing solitaire when the guard came to get me. He told me John, the warden, wanted to see me. I slowly got up and turned around with my hands behind my back so they could place the handcuffs on my wrists. As they led me to the warden's office, I had no idea what this visit with the warden was all about, unless it was about the fight I got into last week. I had already served four days in the hole for that. But, around here you never know; someone could have lied on me. Snitches don't live long in here. After going through a series of barred doors and up several stair steps, we finally entered the warden's office. The warden was on the phone; he motioned for us to take a seat. When he hung up the phone, he told me that the board of appeals was granting me a new hearing. I didn't know what to say; I was at a loss for words. I had petitioned the board four times and each time they turned me down. But, finally, they were willing to listen to me. He instructed the guard to take me back to my cell. I was stunned and in disbelief as the guard led me out of the warden's office. I had been convicted of murder in the first degree and aggravated robbery. The court sentenced me to fifty years; I have already served twenty-five of them. Now, after all this time, they are willing to review my case. It was the best news I had heard in a long time. Back at my cell, I laid down for a few minutes, reveling in that moment of hope.

Two days later, the guard came to my cell and told me I had a visitor. I did my usual ritual of turning around with my hands behind my back to be cuffed. As he led me to the visitation room, I had no idea who it could be. It had been a long time since anyone had come to see me. The guard slowly opened the door to the visitation room and let me in. He closed the door behind me and stood guard outside the door. As I took my seat at the booth, I saw a young man in front of me; I had no idea who he was. He picked up the phone and so did I.

"I know you don't know who I am, but my name is Keith Taylor an attorney," he said.

I didn't say anything; I just listened.

"I found out that you are going up before the board of appeals and I would like to represent you."

"Why?" I questioned. "I don't have any money to pay you."

"I am fascinated with your case and I believe I can help you," he explained, "and I'll do it pro bono."

I sat a minute and didn't say a word; it all seemed like a dream. Why after all this time were things starting to turn around. I told him to let me think about it. I figured there must be more to it than this. He told me he understood my doubts as he slid his business card under the glass partition. I told him I would get back with him and yelled for the guard. The guard came in and escorted me back to my cell.

A few days later, I got word to him that I would like for him to represent me. He arranged contact visits through the warden so we could go over my case. I didn't know there was so much to it. He came twice a week; we went over and over the case trying to build a new case to stand on at the appeals. Days and days passed, he read the trial transcript several times looking for any loophole such as mistakes and trial errors that might have occurred. He even checked the evidence that had been presented in court. He went over and through everything that pertained to my case, the testimony, witnesses and anything that could open the door for them to set me free. Keith believed that I was innocent and falsely imprisoned. He believed if he could create a shadow of doubt in one of the members on the appeal board, they would recommend I receive a new trial.

Finally, the day arrived for me and Keith to stand before the board. He presented evidence that was brought out at the trial. That evidence along with the trial transcript, he was able to justify his reasoning for a new trial. This created doubt and helped uncover flaws in the first trial. As he proceeded, he informed the board of some circumstantial evidence that was presented against me that was irrelevant and caused pertinent facts to be overlooked that would have led to a different outcome of the trial. He told them those circumstances held a strong bearing in determining if I was guilty or innocent. In his closing statement to the appeal board, Keith presented the fact that I had already served twenty-five years of a fifty year sentence and that I have been a model prisoner. Before he took his seat, he handed them a letter from the warden regarding my behavior. The board asked me to come forward. They questioned me about my prison time and rehabilitation. They wanted to know what I had with myself since I had been incarcerated. I informed them that I had studied for and passed the GED exam and that I had also enrolled in some college classes from the nearby college that holds classes at the prison and that I had also learned a trade. After they questioned me, they asked me and Keith to step outside for a few minutes so they could discuss my appeal. About thirty minutes later, the board sent word for us to come back in; they had reached a decision. After reviewing the evidence and considering my rehabilitation, the board had decided to recommend that the court reverse the standing verdict and grant me a new trial. My heart literally stopped; I couldn't believe what I had just heard. For once in my life, I was getting a second chance. Keith thanked the committee for giving me a second chance to prove my innocence. The chairman of the committee stated that the motion had been made and carried. He slammed his gavel down and dismissed the session.

Keith gave me some encouraging words as we headed back to the prison van, but I knew the hard work had only just begun. Keith told me the groundwork for the new trial had been laid out, but the hard work lay ahead. Because going before a new judge and twelve new jurors to defend my innocence and receive a not guilty was not going to be as easy as it was before the appeal board. He said for me to be set free, twelve jurors were going to have to be convinced that I had been done wrong by the judicial system and that I had already sacrificed twenty-five years of my life in prison for a crime I did not commit. He told me to hang in there and that he would be in touch.

The guards escorted me back to the prison where I would wait for the courts to set a date. On the way back to prison I couldn't get over how good a job Keith did especially since he was right out of law school. I was very impressed and very pleased he would represent me at the new trial. But, he didn't tell me until later that he had an uncle on the appeal board. As we drove on, the guard who was driving turned on the radio; he tuned it to a rock and roll station, WHIN. Apparently, the other guard didn't like rock and roll so he changed it to WAMG, a country station. This caused a big argument so they ended up turning the radio off. At that moment, any music would have made me feel good. I thought about songs I listened to when I was growing up; they brought back a lot of memories. It's funny how you forget all of the small precious things when you are locked up. It is odd how we only dwell on the bad things that come our way. Finally, we arrived back at the prison which was about three miles outside of Little Creek. The guards took me through the normal process of being searched before I was taken back to my cell. A lot of the guys were asking me about how it went with the board of appeals and I told them I got a new trial. A lot of them were glad, but the majority of them didn't give a damn. When I settled down inside my cell, I took a deep breath and tried to relax. I couldn't believe it; I was getting a second chance. I started to wonder about some of the first things I wanted to do when I was released; there were so many things I wanted to do. It had been a long time since I had been involved in a relationship. I wondered if I... Well, anyway I'll have to cross life's bridges as I come to them. I eased back on my bunk and continued my wishful thinking.

I was fifteen when I got expelled from school for smoking pot. Not long after that, my daddy started physically abusing me. After so many beatings, I decided to leave home; I moved around a lot and picked up small jobs just to get by. I was arrested several times before I got a full-time job. Unfortunately, that didn't last long; I got fired. I knew I eventually would because I was always late; I had to walk to work and it was a good piece away. After that, I was in and out of drug and alcohol rehabilitation programs for years. I have to say, my life has been something.

Then, out of the blue, my mind wandered to the night in the alley. All I know is that everything happened so fast. I came upon the dead body lying in the alley. I knelt down beside it to see if there was anything I could do to help. I saw the crowbar lying next to the body. Without thinking, I picked it up. And that's when all the drama started. The police rushed into the alley with their headlights on bright and their blue lights flashing; the lights were so bright I couldn't see. The police jumped out of their cars with their guns pointed at me, yelling for me to drop the crowbar, get down on the ground and put my hands behind my head. I froze in my tracks; I didn't know what to do because I hadn't done anything wrong. All I could think to do was yell out that I didn't do it; I was only trying to help him. But, that didn't matter to the police. They repeatedly told me to drop the crowbar and get on the ground. Slowly, they began to move in. I dropped the crowbar when one of the officers pushed me down on the ground and cuffed my hands behind my back. I never said another word; it wouldn't have made a difference anyway. The situation I had been found in had already told my story. By the time I could get myself together, I was already locked down in the county jail. I didn't know what to do or where to turn. It wasn't long before they had me in the interrogation room questioning me about what had happened. Detective Barry Whitaker and Detective James Bailey were in charge of the investigation. They asked me what had happened in the alley. I tried to tell them but they were convinced I had committed the murder; they were adamant that it was a drug deal gone wrong. But, I continuously insisted that it wasn't.

They wanted to know how I was connected to Larry Joe Walker, the deceased. I told them I had never seen him before until that night in the market.

"He was at the counter paying for his stuff when I came in," I explained. "When I left the market, I thought I heard something in the alley. When I glanced down the alley, I saw someone lying in the alleyway. I went to see if I could help them. As I was kneeled down beside the body, that's when the police came up."

Detective Whitaker then spoke up, "The clerk at the market said you and Larry Joe came in about the same time. He thought ya'll were together. In fact, he was sure that the two of you came in together around nine o'clock."

"Where all have you been tonight?" asked Detective Bailey.

I had to stop and think for a minute. Everything was happening so fast; I couldn't think. Then I remembered my girlfriend and I had been partying all night.

"My girlfriend and I hit a few clubs and then we went back to her place," I replied.

"What's her name and how can we get in touch with her?" asked Detective Whitaker.

"Her name is Ashley Frye, but on the street they call her Brandy. She lives in the apartments around the corner from the market. Talk to her, she'll verify my story," I encouraged them. "But, I'll tell you one thing, there was someone else in that alley tonight; heard them. Why won't you believe that?" I asked.

"We will check it out," said Detective Whitaker.

"Can I go?" I asked.

"Not now," replied Detective Whitaker. "We have a few more questions."

"We'll let you know when you can go," spoke up Detective Bailey.

After about another thirty minutes of interrogation, they had a deputy take me back to my cell and I waited for them to release me. I hadn't done anything wrong. Early the next morning, they came and took me back to the interrogation room for some more questioning. Detective Whitaker said they had talked with Brandy and she told them exactly what I had said, that we had been out partying and then went back to her place. They also asked her she or I knew Larry Joe Walker and she told them she didn't, but she wasn't sure if I did or not. She also told them that we went to bed around eight o'clock. And when she got up around eight-thirty to use the bathroom, I was still in bed asleep and when she woke up again, about ten-thirty, I was gone.

"Where did you go after you left Brandy's apartment?" asked Detective Bailey.

"I couldn't sleep so I got up and I walked down to the market to get some cigarettes," I explained.

"What time was that?" asked Detective Whitaker.

"It was eight forty-five, I guess. What about the other person in the alley? Did you find out anything about that?" I questioned.

"We do have the videotape from the convenience store's camera located in the alley. It doesn't show any third person, only you and the deceased," replied Detective Bailey. "Part of the tape is damaged from the weather, but the lab is working on repairing it. However, although the videotape is in black and white and has a lot of snow in it, we can identify that it's you kneeling over the body with the crowbar in your hand. Another puzzling thing is there were no cigarettes in your possession or a lighter when you were arrested."

"I must have lost them," I replied.

"Brandy did tell us you were a heavy smoker. But, I know you couldn't have smoked a whole pack in that short amount of time."

About that time, I heard the clicking of the cell doors being locked down for the night, interrupting my recollecting thoughts. When the guard called out lights out, the blank of darkness filled the block. I eased down in my bunk and closed my eyes. It has been a wild day, I thought to myself as I drifted off to sleep.

Weeks had gone by, but Keith kept me informed of what he was doing. He was trying to get me a court date on the docket. But, it was slow going. The courts were overrun with cases. About a month later, Keith came by with some good news. My trial date was in three weeks. For the next few weeks, my nerves were on edge. I wanted to be free so bad. But, I wondered if I could make it out in the free world. I had been locked up for twenty-five years and I knew things had changed. The world and life had gone on by. I didn't know if I could adjust and make it. After twenty-five years in prison and this way of life I should be able to make it. However, prison is all together a different way of life. You either make it or you don't. Being free is something else, it's the other side of the coin and the courts are the ones who flip it.

Finally, my day in court arrived. I had been transferred the night before to the county jail; I would be transported to court from there. When the guard came and got me I was polishing my cell floor with shoe polish. It puts a real clean shine on the floor and stays shiny for a long time. On the way to the county jail, I remember a black cat crossed the road in front of us. The guard that was driving said it was bad luck but the other guard said that is was good luck since the black cat crossed the road to the right side. He explained that when it is crossing to the right it is good luck and when it is crossing to the left it is bad luck.

"I never have heard that," said the guard driving.

"It's an old saying," replied the other guard.

I was sure hoping that might be an omen for me that my luck was going to change for the better. Keith had come by the jail to go over some last minute preparations. He had also bought me a suit to wear for the trial. I was so nervous; I didn't know how things were going to turn out. So needless to say, I didn't get a good night's sleep; I tossed and turned all night. Morning of the trial day came early or so it seemed. After breakfast, I nervously waited for them to escort me to the courthouse. I watched the clock, rung my hands and patted and shuffled my feet. Then I heard the old familiar clicking sound. It was time to go; Keith had come over to the jail to walk with me. As we entered the courtroom there was a few people. We sat down at the table in front of the courtroom. The bailiff stood to the side of the judge's bench. I didn't know what to think or feel. I never dreamed I would ever get another chance at life. But, my dream was coming true. About that time the bailiff spoke.

"All rise, hear ye, hear ye Honorable Judge Necole Depetrillao presiding. You may be seated; the Commonwealth State of Tennessee vs. John Patrick Doyle, Docket # 2437851. Court is now in session."

"Counselors are you prepared and ready?"

"Yes your Honor," replied the prosecution.

"You may proceed," ordered the judge.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury you have the say and the duty to listen to the facts and the evidence of this case in the outcome of John Patrick Doyle, the defendant," stated the district attorney as he started his opening remarks. "It is my job to present you with all the facts and evidence of this case. It is completely and totally up to you, the jury of twelve people of his peers, to find him guilty or not guilty. The motive in this case is robbery and murder. Mr. Walker, the deceased, had gone into the market with a wad of money which Mr. Doyle saw. Mr. Doyle followed him outside and brutally killed him. The defendant was found red-handed; he was found kneeling over the body of Larry Joe Walker, the deceased, with a crowbar in his hand. Mr. Doyle's bloody fingerprints were all over the crowbar. The defendant says he picked it up without thinking. But, I ask the question. Was he in the act of laying it down after he brutally killed the deceased? It is your job to come to the conclusion of the facts and evidence which will determine the outcome of this trial. John Patrick Doyle has been granted a new trial. He has already been tried once by a jury of twelve who had heard the facts and evidence of his case. They found him guilty of second degree murder. He was sentenced to fifty years in prison; he has served twenty-five of those years. My job is to see that he stay in prison and serves the rest of his time. In view of the facts and evidence, I hope to prove to you without a shadow of a doubt that John Patrick Doyle is nothing but a cold blooded and heartless murderer who showed no mercy on his victim. And the same should be done to him. He took another man's life for a few dollars."

"Ladies and gentleman of the jury," stated Keith as he began his opening remarks. "As you know, my job is to present an unraveling case of falsehood for my client, John Patrick Doyle. I will prove to you that he is an innocent victim of the judicial system. That he is one of others who have fallen through the cracks and wrongfully accused and charged with a crime he didn't commit. Yes, like the prosecution said, it is left up to you to review the facts and evidence of this case and come to an open mind that the defendant, John Patrick Doyle, is not a vicious killer without mercy. He simply was at the wrong place at the wrong time. He made a huge mistake of stopping and bending down beside the body of Larry Joe Walker to see if he could help him. I ask only one thing; please take into consideration the new evidence that I will introduce and the facts of this case. I want you to take into consideration that Mr. Doyle has already spent twenty-five years of his life wrongfully behind bars. The prosecution says the motive was robbery and murder. There was no large sum of money found on my client when he was arrested. Yes, there was money found on the body of Larry Joe Walker. But, was it robbery or was it like the prosecution's crowbar theory. Was he putting it down after killing the victim? I doubt it!"

"Prosecutor, are you ready to call your first witness?"

"Yes, your Honor, I call Guthrie Harris," he replied.

The bailiff swore Mr. Harris in.

"Mr. Harris what do you do for a living?" asked the prosecutor.

"I own and run Guthrie's Stop and Shop," he answered.

"Do you sell cigarettes at your market?" questioned the D. A.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Did Mr. Doyle buy any," asked the D. A.

"No, sir, he didn't by any cigarettes," Guthrie replied.

"Objection," cried Keith. "He's trying to lead the witness and come to a conclusion."

"Overruled," stated the judge.

"Now, that evening on the date in question, can you tell us what happened?" asked the D. A.

"I was about to close when I saw Mr. Walker come in the store. I remember him because he walked around the store several minutes. Finally, he came up to the checkout counter and bought some lottery tickets. He took a huge roll of money out of his pocket. When I looked up, I saw Mr. Doyle looking in the window," Guthrie explained.

"What happened then," probed the D. A.

"I looked back at Mr. Walker and gave him his lottery tickets. He put his money back in his pocket and headed toward the door."

"Objection," shouted Keith. "He's calling for a conclusion."

"Objection sustained," replied the judge.

"It appears to you that he was leaving," stated the D.A.

"Yes, sir," replied Guthrie.

"What happened after that?" questioned the D. A.

"Mr. Walker left and held the door for Mr. Doyle to come in. But, I noticed Mr. Doyle turned around and went back out," said Guthrie.

"What did you do then?" asked the D. A.

"I locked the doors and closed for the night."

"Had you ever seen either of the two men before that night?" asked the D. A.

"I had seen Mr. Walker in the store before. He had bought some lottery tickets, I think, two or three times before," explained Guthrie. "But, I had never seen Mr. Doyle before that night."

"What caused you to remember him?" asked the D. A.

"He had a birthmark on the right side of his neck," replied Guthrie, "right down below his ear."

"Why did you happen to notice that?" questioned the D. A.

"I wouldn't have," he said. "But, he reached up and rubbed his neck. That's when I noticed it."

"Let the record show that the defendant has a birthmark on the right side of his neck down below his ear," stated the D. A. "That's all, your Honor."

"Do you want to cross examine counselor?" asked the judge.

"Yes, your Honor, I do," replied Keith. "What you are saying Mr. Guthrie is because the two men left at the same time and Mr. Walker had a large roll of money my client robbed him. Could it have been someone else in the alley?"

"I object," cried the prosecutor. "He's trying to lead the witness and come to a conclusion."

"Your Honor, there has never been a doubt," said Keith, "that Mr. Doyle was not at the store and that Mr. Walker had a large roll of money. Just because Mr. Walker had the money and they left about the same time it doesn't prove that my client killed him."

"Objection overruled," replied the judge.

"No further questions at this time," said Keith.

"Call your next witness, counselor."

"The prosecution calls Randy Henson. Mr. Henson you work at the state crime lab where we send a lot of our police work," stated the D. A.

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"Can you give us your professional opinion on the lab work for this case?" asked the D. A.

"Well, sir," he replied. "There was Mr. Walker's blood on the crowbar as well as Mr. Doyle's. Both of them have the same blood type, B-positive. Mr. Walker had been hit on the side of his head. There was also a bloody fingerprint on the crowbar."

"Who did the print belong to?" asked D. A.

"Mr. Doyle, the defendant," he said. "The blow to the side of Mr. Walker's head was the cause of death."

"Was there blood found on any other evidence?" questioned the D. A.

"Yes, on the shirt that belonged to Mr. Doyle that the police confiscated at his arrest."

"Whose blood was that?" asked the D. A.

"Mr. Walker's," replied the tech.

"No further questions," said the D. A.

"You may cross examine," replied the judge.

"So, what you are saying is that you are basing your professional opinion on the fact of two people's blood type being the same," reiterated Keith.

"No, I'm not," he replied. "I'm saying..."

"Did the crime lab botch up the testing of the two men's blood in question?" cried out Keith. "Did they fail to test the makeup of both bloods to assure there were not two different types?"

"Yes, I can explain," he replied.

"Objection your honor," cried out the D. A.

"Overruled," replied the judge.

"Is it possible that Mr. Walker's blood could have gotten on Mr. Doyle's shirt when he bent over the body to see if he could help him and just as well when he picked up the crowbar without thinking?"

"Yes, I guess," replied Mr. Henson.

"Is it possible," asked Keith, "yes or no?"

"Yes," he answered with frustration.

"Anymore questions, counselor?" asked the judge.

"Just one, your Honor," replied Keith. "How long have you been with the crime lab?"

"About eight years now," he replied.

"From the best of your knowledge, has anything like this ever happened before?" Keith asked. "Has the failure of the lack of makeup from the blood sample of a case ever failed to be 100% accurate?

"Yes," he said.

"Giving your professional opinion, how many times do you think this has happened?'

"Several times; I know of at least six or eight times over the course of my career."

"Thank you, Mr. Henson" said Keith. "I have no further questions, your Honor."

"Your Honor, if I may, I would like to clear one point," requested the D. A.

"You may go ahead, counselor, but keep it brief," warned the judge. "It's getting close to lunch."

"Out of all those times that you just mentioned, how many of them were found guilty because of a blood test?" questioned the D. A.

"More than half," replied Mr. Henson.

"You may step down," instructed the judge.

"Your Honor, I would like to present the state's exhibit A, the crowbar. It is the bloody crowbar covered with the blood and fingerprints belonging to the defendant that was used to kill Larry Joe Walker."

"Any comment on this exhibit of the state?" asked the judge.

"Only one; it should state the assumed killer of Larry Joe Walker," replied Keith.

"I see your point. Counselor, you may enter it into the court with assumed killer," corrected the judge. "Your next witness," ordered the judge.

"The state calls Matt Coley," said the D. A.

"Mr. Coley, what do you do for a living?" asked the D. A.

"I work with video surveillance cameras," he replied.

"Can you fill us in on the final results of the videotape that was found in the alley the night Larry Joe Walker was murdered?" asked the D. A.

"Well, sir, the tape was in black and white and the weather had damaged most of it. But, I was able to determine there were two men in the alley. Mr. Walker I could make out; the other person was not as clear. That person had their back to the camera most of the time," he said. "But, I was able to see a shot of his neck when he turned around. It happened so quickly I really couldn't say for sure if it was Mr. Doyle," he said.

"In your opinion, from your experience and training, did the mark appear to look like a birthmark," inquired the D. A.

"I object your honor," cried Keith. "The D. A. is grasping for straws."

"Objection sustained," said the judge. "Counselor, get to your point."

"Sorry, your honor," replied the D. A. "Could it have been a birthmark?"

"Yes, I..." replied Mr. Coley.

"No further questions," stated the D. A.

"You may cross examine," directed the judge.

"I have one question," said Keith. "Could it have been something besides a birthmark?"

"Yes, sir," he stated. "You couldn't really tell."

"That's all, your Honor."

The judge dismissed for lunch; the trial would convene at 1:00 p.m. The bailiff instructed everyone to rise as the judge left the courtroom.

As the courtroom emptied, Keith and I went across the street for a bite to eat. As we ate our lunch, we discussed the trial. He didn't think it looked bad, but you can never be too sure in judging a jury. All he had to do was create doubt in one juror and the rest could follow. One o'clock came around quick. The courtroom was filled once again.

"All rise, Honorable Judge Necole Depetrillao presiding. You may be seated," said the bailiff.

"You may call your next witness, counselor," instructed the judge.

"The state calls Detective Barry Whitaker," said the D. A. "On the night in question, did you and Detective Bailey answer a call of a homicide in the alley on First Street?"

"Yes, we did," answered Detective Whitaker. "Well, sir we found Mr. Doyle squatted down next to the body of Larry Joe Walker," replied Detective Whitaker.

"And how did that appear to you?" asked the D. A.

"Well, Mr. Walker was lying on the ground and blood was running from the side of his head. Mr. Doyle was beside him with a crowbar in his hand," replied Detective Whitaker.

"Then what?" questioned the D. A.

"We arrested Mr. Doyle," he said. "We took him downtown and questioned him. We charged him with murder."

"Did he have a lawyer?"

"He received a court-appointed attorney."

"That's all, your Honor," stated the D. A.

"Now, Detective Whitaker," spoke Keith as he approached the witness stand. "Did Mr. Doyle, at any time, tell you that there was someone else in the alley?" asked Keith.

"Yes, sir, he did," replied Detective Whitaker.

"At any time, did you check to see if there was another person there that night in the alley?" Keith questioned.

"No, sir, not really," said the detective.

"No further questions, your Honor," replied Keith.

"Your Honor, I call Detective Bailey to the stand," said the D. A.

"Do you support and testify to Detective Whitaker's testimony?" asked the D. A.

"Yes, I do," he replied.

"And how long have ya'll worked together?" questioned the D. A.

"About twenty years," he replied.

"And when you arrived on the scene of the crime," said the D.A., "did you come to the same conclusion that it looked like Mr. Doyle had murdered Mr. Walker?"

"Yes, I did," stated Detective Bailey.

"No further questions, your Honor."

"One brief question, your Honor," replied Keith. "Could there have been another person in the alley at that time?"

"Sir, I..." he replied.

"Answer the question," demanded Keith.

"Yes," he said.

"Thank you, detective."

"Defense, are you ready for your first witness?" asked the judge.

"Yes, I am, your Honor," Keith said. "But first I would like to present the defense's Exhibit A. A document from the warden at Stoney River stating that while my client has been incarcerated there he has been a model prisoner. I also have defense's Exhibit B, documents that include his GED, a certificate of his trade and his rehabilitation records from prison."

"Your request has been accepted," replied the judge.

"Your Honor, I call Ashley Frye to the stand," he stated.

"Now, Ashley," he started to say before she interrupted.

"You can call me Brandy," she said, "everyone does."

"Okay, Brandy," he replied. "You have known John Patrick for about three years. Can you tell us about him since you have been his girlfriend, on and off, for the past three years?"

"Well, he's a nice guy," she said, "quiet in a way and sort of distant at times. But, we have a lot of fun together, clubbing, you know what I mean."

"Has he ever mistreated you?" Keith asked. "Has he hit you or anyone else?"

"I object your honor this is irrelevant to the case," cried out the D. A.

"Objection sustained; make your point counselor," warned the judge.

"Do you know of a time when Mr. Doyle physically hurt anyone? Did he ever inflict bodily harm to any one?" questioned Keith.

"No," she said.

"I have no further questions," stated Keith.

"You may cross examine, counselor," instructed the judge.

"I have no questions," replied the D. A.

"Call your next witness, counselor," ordered the judge.

"Your Honor, may I approach the bench?" requested Keith as the prosecutor approached the bench right behind him. "Your Honor, I was going to have the coroner here but he is out of town. However, I do have a written affidavit from him with his testimony. There is a statement in here I would like to address the jury with, if I may have your permission."

"Okay, counselor," she said. "I will allow it this time. But the next time, make sure your witness is here."

"Thank you, your Honor," Keith said as the D.A. returned to his seat. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I have here a written affidavit from the coroner which you will receive a copy of. I would like to make a statement about the coroner's report. It states that the blow to the head of Mr. Walker was probably done by a left-handed man. I want to state that John Patrick Doyle is right-handed."

Then unexpectedly, the D. A. wadded up a piece of paper and pitched it at John Patrick. Without thinking, he caught it with his left hand.

"I have no questions, your Honor," said the D. A. with a smirk on his face.

The judge banged her gavel down on the bench and told them to meet her in her office. A few minutes later, they reentered the courtroom and proceeded with the trial. The trial went on for two more days. Finally, the closing arguments were presented. Each attorney boldly stressed their side to the jury. It looked like I had about a 50/50 chance, but who knows. The jury received their orders from the judge and went out to deliberate. Keith and I sat outside on the bench next to the courthouse. We noticed some old men sitting on a bench whittling and chewing tobacco. They had whittled so much they had huge piles of cedar shavings. I told Keith that I appreciated all that he had done for me. It was more than anyone had ever done. About that time someone came to the courthouse door and yelled the jury was in. Quickly, we got up and rushed in.

"All rise," said the bailiff. "You can be seated."

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" asked the judge.

The jury foreman said, "We have, your Honor."

The foreman passed the note to the bailiff and he gave it to the judge. After she looked at it, she handed it back.

"Will the defendant please rise," stated the judge.

Keith and I rose to face the jury. I held my breath as the foreman started to read the verdict.

"Not guilty," said the jury foreman.

My legs almost went out from under me. Keith turned around and gave me a big hug. The judge dismissed the jurors and the trial. As we made our way out, I looked at the D. A. and he looked back hard at me as he told Keith that he had just got a killer set free.

Keith started to say something, but I stepped in between them. They each backed off and we left. On our way back to the prison, we stopped off and got a bite to eat. I never knew food could be so good. Keith didn't have too much to say; he seemed a little distant. It must have been what the D. A. had said when we were leaving the courtroom. But, it didn't matter now. I was free and going to start a new life somewhere other than prison. We stopped off at the prison so I could get my things. The warden had already instructed the guards to get them from my cell. The warden gave me two-hundred dollars and wished me well. I would never hear the clicking of the cell doors locking down anymore. After we left the prison, Keith took me to the bus station. On the way there, I could tell something was eating at him. When we arrived at the station, I went in to get my ticket. The bus headed north would be leaving in about ten minutes. I had figured out what was wrong with Keith when he told me he had one question for me.

"John, were you picking up the crowbar or were you laying it down?"

I was silent; I didn't say anything for a moment. I looked over at him and said, "I was laying it down."

"So, you really did kill him," said Keith.

I looked up at him and starred into his eyes. I never said another word, but I nodded my head yes and walked away. After I boarded the bus, I saw Keith sitting in his car at the bus station. I thought to myself as the bus pulled away. My intent was to rob the market. But, I changed my mind when I saw the man with the roll of money.

*****

Sycamore Tales

The Voyage of Death

Across the gulf, the moon set abreast upon the night horizon and awakened to a new dawn. As the water of the gulf waltzed in the night, it was enhanced by a sparkling light show created by the moonlight. Harper's Lighthouse stood about a mile off the coast on Flat Rock Island near Jacob's cove.

It was 1973 in the little coastal town of Summer Shade located along the Florida coastline in Hamilton County at the Junction of US Highway 259 and Cooks Road. Summer Shade is a small fishing port on the gulf side of the Florida coastline. People from everywhere go there for vacations, boating outings, fishing trips and water sports. Its sandy white beaches, piers and docks enhance the shoreline. At night the beach is dressed with all kinds of lights, parks, shops, restaurants and hotels. There are beach parties, volleyball games, cookouts and snorkeling among the reefs. Some of the restaurants are San's, Oak's and Dick's Drive-In along with many other seafood restaurants, bars and grills.

About fifty miles north of Summer Shade Kelvin and Susan are getting ready to celebrate their second honeymoon. They are headed to Summer Shade to renew their wedding vows, along with his son, Clint, who they call Boo. Kelvin married Susan after his first wife died about seven years ago from terminal cancer. They have been married for six years now. Boo was nine when his mother died; Kelvin and Susan never had any children of their own. Boo took the loss of his mother very hard at the age of sixteen he still hasn't gotten over it. Boo feels like Susan is trying to take his mothers place so they do not get along very well. He has a lot of anger and resentment towards her. Kelvin has to be the referee between them, but it is hard since he loves them both. After they renew their wedding vows, Kelvin has arranged for them all to take a gulf cruise.

Dewayne and Cynthia is an older couple from Summer Shade. They have also signed up for the gulf cruise, just to get out of the house for a change. They have been married thirty three years and are both retired; he is a retired business man. Cynthia has a drinking problem and Dewayne has an eye for the women and likes to gamble.

Marcus and Sheila is an engaged couple from Tennessee. They are in Florida for spring break and are living it up with all the fun and partying. Marcus won a gulf cruise for two so since they are already in Florida soaking up the sun and enjoying beach life, they are going to take advantage of the cruise while they are there. Right before they left for the beach that day, the phone rang as Shelia was headed out of the hotel room. Marcus was already in the car and blowing the horn to hurry her along. She started to leave without answering it but she thought it might be important.

"Hello," she said.

"It's me," replied the voice on the other end.

As soon as she heard the voice, she knew exactly who it was.

"How did you know where to find me?" she asked.

"I have my ways," he replied.

She slammed the phone down and tried to regain her composure before she went to the car. She knew who it was, but she wasn't going to tell Marcus. Shelia had an affair, about six months ago, with the man who called while dating Marcus. The man had become too possessive with her and he wouldn't take no for an answer. He just kept on calling, teasing and stalking her. She finally broke it off with him to save her engagement to Marcus. The man had threatened to kill her and Marcus. The vacation was not only a getaway, but they were trying to rekindle the flame in their relationship. After spending the day shopping and sightseeing they decided to attend the luau on the beach. The beach was covered with people. The luau party was in full force. People were dancing to the music, playing volleyball, roasting hotdogs and marshmallows around the bonfire, drinking and smoking. It was wild! Some of the women took off their bikini tops, ran out into the water and played tug of war. The food was out of this world.

When someone in the crowd yelled out limbo time, everyone lined up behind each other to do the limbo. As they waited in line, they danced to the Limbo Rock. It was crazy, but fun. By two in the morning the only ones left on the beach were the ones that had passed out and couldn't make it back home. But, the police helped make sure the beach was vacated. By daybreak the wild party of the night was a thing of the past. It was a new day and time for a new adventure.

Everyone headed for the cruise was excited. They looked forward to cruising three days around the gulf with plenty of sun and relaxation. Kelvin, Susan, and Boo were the first to reach Pier 8 at Salty Dog Boat Dock. The dock was overrun with all kinds and sizes of boats. As they made their way around the dock looking for their boat, they ran into Marcus and Sheila. Just so happened they were looking for the same boat, Hook, Line and Sinker. Finally, they found it and its captain, Anthony Lewis.

"Welcome aboard," he said to them as they made their way onto the boat. "This is Dewayne and Cynthia," he introduced. "And you must be Kelvin, Susan, Marcus and Sheila. I hope I got everyone's name right."

"Almost," they replied.

"I'm Kelvin and he is Marcus."

"And who might this young man be?" questioned Captain Anthony.

Kelvin spoke up, "This is my son, Clint, but we call him Boo."

"Glad to have you aboard," welcomed Captain Anthony.

As he welcomed them all again, he yelled for his first mate. Out from the cabin below the deck appeared his first mate and right hand man, Benny.

"This is Benny; he will show you around."

"You have a beautiful boat," said Sheila.

"Why, thank you," the Captain said with appreciation. "It's my baby. It's a Schooner 125 foot sailboat yacht with three masts, Catalina 352 Sea Rider. Benny, go ahead and show the good folk around. They may want to get comfortable because we'll be heading out for the open gulf shortly."

"What about the weather?" inquired Marcus.

"The last I heard it is supposed to be clear. But, there is always a chance that we might run into a small storm once we're out there. You never really know; it's a chance you take out on the water. Out there on the water, things can change in an instant. But, I have checked with the weather bureau, my shipping charts and logs; it should be smooth sailing. Is everyone about ready to set sail?"

"Yeah," exclaimed the others. "Let's go for it."

"Benny, let's do it," instructed Captain Anthony.

Within minutes, the boat left the pier and moved out into the gulf. It was a beautiful day; a great day for sailing. As the boat rode abreast of the water, everyone sat back, enjoyed the ride and the scenery. As Benny worked the sails and the captain steered the wheel of the boat, it seemed to ballet across the water like a ballerina. The air, along with a little mist of water spray from the gulf, was refreshing as it hit across their faces. It was a beautiful day; everyone was having fun. They were drinking and enjoying the food. The atmosphere was so romantic.

"Life is good," stated the captain.

Boo was crazy about his dad. But, ever since his dad remarried it seemed, to Boo, like his dad didn't have much time for him anymore. Boo was jealous of his new mother. She was not his biological mother and that was a major turn off to him. He blamed God for taking his mother away and had a huge chip and the weight of the world on his shoulder. He had a lot of resentment, bitterness and anger built up in him. He was like a bomb ready to explode. At times, he wished she was dead. Kelvin was a good dad. Boo didn't understand why his dad was all caught up in the marriage. But, Susan helped fill the void in Kelvin's life. His wife had only been dead a year when he remarried. It may have been too soon for him to remarry; it may have cheated not only his son but him and Susan as well. However, in life things happen unexpectedly sometimes. Kelvin was a worker; he was a good provider, planner, go-getter and loved to see accomplishments, whether his own or those of someone else. Boo claimed his dad worked too much and he had heard his mother say the same thing.

Cynthia was a drinker and talker; she loved to drink and gossip. Dewayne was a lady's man, or so he thought, and it didn't take long for him to set his eyes on Sheila. As time passed on the first day, Cynthia got drunk and started sharing some info that should have been left unsaid. Marcus and Kelvin were doing a little fishing and Dewayne was below deck. As she socialized with the others, she let it slip that her husband was an informant for the FBI and had supplied them with information pertaining to the mob. She also told them that Dewayne had worn a wire for an FBI sting that ended up getting several of the kingpins arrested. After that happened, the FBI changed his name and gave him a new identity for his protection. They were intrigued with her every word when unexpectedly she grabbed her mouth, rushed over to the side of the boat, bent over the railing and threw up. She was sick; I mean really sick. As Dewayne came back up to the deck, he saw her and knew exactly what had happened. He apologized to the others as he took her back down below deck to sleep it off. Susan and the others didn't know what to make of it.

"Do you believe she is telling the truth about Dewayne?" asked Susan.

"He doesn't seem to be that type," said Sheila.

"He looks like a used car salesman to me. You know, they all look alike. In my line of work, I meet all kinds of people," replied Captain Anthony.

About that time, Kelvin and Marcus came over and wanted to know what they were talking about. Susan told them nothing and they each started telling stories about themselves. As the orange, yellow sun began to set against the watery horizon, the night air of the gulf presented a slightly cooler breeze. The boats lights dominated the blackened sky as the moon appeared with a golden haze. Everyone decided to go down below to get a bite to eat and kick back to relax for the evening. Benny fixed him a tall glass of cold buttermilk with a little salt which was one of his favorite drinks. As they were enjoying their meal, Shelia suddenly spoke up.

"What on earth is that smell? Marcus did you fart?"

"Why no," he quickly replied as everyone looked around and started laughing.

Captain Anthony spoke up, "It's probably Benny's damn stinking feet. I've told him time and time again that he needs to keep them washed."

"That is a sickening smell," replied Shelia.

"It sure is," Cynthia and Dewayne agreed.

Benny just dropped his head and headed back up on deck with a slight grin on his face. He didn't have much to say, but he was sort of distant, quiet and stayed to himself most of the time.

As silence fell across the boat, the excitement of the first day finally came to rest upon the water. While the others slept, Kelvin got up to check on Boo. However, he was not in his bunk. Kelvin searched the boat, frantically looking for him. He found Boo sitting up on deck staring out into the gulf. Kelvin went over to him and asked him if he was alright and that he had him worried.

"I miss Mama," he said.

"I do to," replied Kelvin. "There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about her."

"Why, Dad?" he questioned. "Why did she have to leave us?"

"No one knows that except the Lord," answered Kelvin.

"But why did he take her?" Boo cried. "If he is such a good God why does he let bad things happen to good people?"

"Well, we're not supposed to question the Lord," replied Kelvin. "It was her time to go, son. I wish you would give Shelia a chance though. She means well and I believe deep down in your heart you know that."

"Dad," he said, "what am I going to do? I don't want to go around the rest of my life with a chip on my shoulder and hating others for no reason."

"I know son, you're not like that. All I want is for you to be happy."

"Dad it's hard," he replied, "to let go."

"I know," said Kelvin, "but there comes a time when you have to."

"What do you think I should do?" he asked.

"I think you already know the answer to that question, son; it's in your heart. Son, talk to the Lord."

"Do you think he'll listen?" questioned Boo.

"He always listens and he understands," responded Kelvin.

"Thanks Dad," Boo said as his dad held him in his arms.

"Well, I'm going to go below," said Kelvin. "You want to join me?"

"I'll be down in a few minutes," replied Boo.

"Okay," said Kelvin.

"Oh, Dad," said Boo. "Thanks for listening; I love you."

"I love you too," replied Kelvin.

At the breaking of another dawn, the second day into their voyage began. The warm breeze from off the gulf began to stir and fill the sails, putting the boat into motion. As far as the eye could see there was only water. They were somewhere out in the bottom part of the gulf, not too far from Mexico. They had put a lot of distance between Summer Shade and where they were now. But, the voyage had been successful and enjoyable, which was what they all needed. Boo seemed to be better, at least he was trying and that was a start. Kelvin seemed to be proud of him, but he knew Boo still had a long way to go and so did he. Time heals all wounds through the Lord, he thought to himself. Cynthia was back as spry as a chicken and with no signs of a hangover. She started her morning with a drink while Dewayne flirted with Shelia. Susan and Kelvin seemed as if they had grown closer together during the night. Marcus was up early to try his luck at fishing. And Benny, he finally washed his feet. As the morning passed, Captain Anthony began to feel the wind from the gulf starting to pick up. He looked ahead and noticed the sky was turning black and the clouds were swirling together. This caused him to become concerned and alarmed. He kept his eye on the swirling clouds and knew rough waters were up ahead. Kelvin and Marcus also noticed the ominous looking clouds and they too became worried.

"It doesn't look good," said the captain.

"What are we going to do?" asked Dewayne.

"Can we make it around the storm?" questioned Marcus.

"I don't think so," replied the captain. "It's moving in too fast. It appears it's going to be rough. Can ya'll take care of everything down below?"

"Sure," they responded.

"Lock everything down," he instructed, "and hold on for the ride. Benny, let's get the boat ready for the storm," commanded the captain. "We'll prepare for the worst case scenario."

"Yes, sir," replied Benny.

The captain looked up again at the huge mass of clouds moving toward them. In the distance he could see lightning flashing inside the dark heavy clouds and he could feel the cool wind coming in off the water.

"Have you about got it ready?" he yelled to Benny.

"Almost," he replied.

The wind began to pick up and started driving the boat up and down on the water, tossing it from side to side. Captain Anthony held on to the helm as tight as he could. He had to yell for Benny to come and help him. Benny had to fight the driving wind and rain as he struggled to get to Captain Anthony. It took both of them to hold the helm and maintain the boat in the storm. The rocky waters were paying a toll upon the boat. Suddenly, one of the masts broke loose and swung around freely. Benny tried to reach for it but it just knocked him down. Finally, it lodged itself in the rigging of the other mast. The bow of the ship would rise with the force of the water and the wind would slam it back down on the breast of the troubled water. The thunder roared as the fiery lightning raped the sky with no mercy. While the waves and driving rain continued to bombard the boat, they wondered if they would be able to stay afloat. In the haunting of the blackest time of the storm, they struggled with all their might as the lightning struck at them on every side. A loud thunder burst sent a chilling and haunting cry across the gulf. The angry waves crushed against the boat. The rain pounded the boat, rocking it about on the angry waters; everyone held on for their life. The ship popped and snapped; it seemed to bow and bend. In minutes, which seemed like hours, they saw a glimmer of light breaking through the darkness. Captain Anthony turned the boat over to Benny and told him to guide it toward the light while he went to check on the passengers down below.

"I can see the light of day," yelled Benny.

As the storm moved out deeper into the gulf, the ship broke through the opening of the light of day. As they moved into the light, the waters became still and the boat became steady. The fierce and angry storm had ceased. There was only a slight stir of the wind; it blew just enough to comfort them in the heat. But when the captain returned back up on deck, he told Benny that the storm had caused the engine to stall and the radio had also been knocked out. All they had left to depend on was the wind and the sails. The instrument panel had also gone out which caused them to wander helplessly around the gulf; the storm had blown them off course.

"Do you think you can fix it, Benny?" asked Captain Anthony.

"I don't know," answered Benny, "but I'll try my best."

"Go ahead," replied Captain Anthony, "and see what you can do. We have to do something. This sun is going to keep getting hotter and hotter over this water."

"Okay, captain, I'll try," said Benny.

Benny worked on the engine for about thirty minutes. Unfortunately, he didn't have any luck and neither did Captain Anthony. The only thing they could hope for was that the wind would pick back up and catch the sails. The others had all come back up on the deck because it was too hot below. There was no air at all stirring. The boat sat paralyzed in the calm water. There was no wind stirring, nor was there a breeze. The heat was stifling. It seemed like they had been out there for days, but it has only been a few hours. Everyone was quiet and praying for a miracle when they heard the engine of another boat.

"Ahoy! Are you having trouble?" a man asked from the boat as he pulled up next to them.

"We are having engine trouble," shouted Captain Anthony.

"Do you need our help?"

"You can look at it, but my first mate and I haven't been able to get it started" replied Captain Anthony.

"Well, I have my mechanic here with me; he's the best at what he does. I'm sure he can get it working again," he responded.

Captain Anthony motioned for them to come on aboard. The man, who was the captain, his mechanic and another crew member boarded Captain Anthony's boat and everyone introduced themselves.

"That was one heck of a storm," said the other captain. "For awhile, I thought we were doomed."

"I felt the same way," replied Captain Anthony.

As the two captains talked, the mechanic went down into the hole to see if he could repair the engine. He was down there about twenty minutes when he yelled back up out of the hole for them to try it. Captain Anthony turned the key, but the engine didn't turn over.

"Wait a minute," yelled the mechanic. "Now, try it again."

But, there was still nothing. About ten minutes later he yelled again. This time, Captain Anthony turned the key and the engine fired up. He and everyone else were so thankful; they couldn't thank them enough. It was such a great relief to have the engine running again. The other captain and his crew boarded their boat and shoved off into the open gulf. As everyone waved by and thanked them once again, Captain Anthony took control of the boat and headed back towards home. But, Dewayne seemed troubled, like something was bothering him. When his wife questioned him about it, he said that one of the men that came aboard looked like one of the mobsters he had squealed on.

"Are you sure," questioned Cynthia.

"Yes, I'm sure," he replied. "Did anyone see the tattoo of a heart with a snake wrapped around it on the back of his right hand?"

"Yes, I did," said Susan.

"I saw something on his hand," replied Marcus. "But, I didn't pay that much attention to it."

"Do you think it was a coincidence that they found us out here or do you think they have been looking for us the whole time? asked Kelvin.

"I don't know," responded Captain Anthony. "We'll watch for them and see if they come back."

The still of the water created a haunting feeling; the captain had already picked up on it. He had a bad feeling about the situation, but he didn't want to alarm the others. The water smelled of death. It had never smelled like that before. There was no movement at all, not even a bird in the sky and the sun was so hot. They felt like they were being watched, but by who. The guests were still up on the deck. The captain could sense that they had smelled the same thing. And this time it wasn't Benny's feet. Captain Anthony pressed onward trying to get out of the calm. The fear of the unknown had crept upon the boat; they were all crippled by the unexpected. Then without a warning, there was an explosion; it could be heard for miles. The boat blew up in the middle of the water killing everyone on board.

Shortly afterward, another boat noticed the smoke and flames and radioed for the coast guard. They hurried over to see if they could help, but there was nothing they could do. The fire was too intense. The boat continued to burn as black smoke rose straight up toward the sky. There were bodies floating around in the water with no sign of any survivors. Slowly, the boat burned and started sinking. By the time the coast guard arrived, there wasn't much left. The other boats crew filled them in on what they had seen. They told them they had seen another boat next to the boat a few hours before it exploded, but didn't really think anything about it at the time. As the coast guard recovered the bodies out of the water, they called in for a team to pull the wreckage to shore for investigation.

Days later, the investigation proved that there was some kind of bomb device onboard that caused the explosion. There were eight bodies recovered out of the water, but there had been nine people on board. The only body that was unaccounted for was Clint's; he was the only missing person. He could have slipped onto the other boat without their knowledge and hid. Boaters had reported that sharks had been seen around the area. The boaters who reported about another boat being alongside the Hook Line and Sinker could never be found. There were no records of any other boat on the shipping chart. The investigation uncovered that Captain Anthony had a second mortgage on his boat, he was behind on his payments and they were going to repossess it. He had also done twenty-four years in prison for arson which killed a homeless man that was living in the old warehouse that he set on fire. Dewayne was tied to the mob by gambling debts. It could have been mob related or could it have been Shelia's ex-lover. The police speculated he could have been involved after they checked his background records. According to the police report, she had turned him in and he had threatened to kill her. Benny was a drifter who worked on the dock picking up odd jobs. No one really knew much about him. He just appeared there one day and never left. He took jobs on boats that a lot of other people didn't want; he cleaned and washed boats, etc. The best they could find out, he was originally from around West Virginia and he had an incurable cancer. The doctors had only given him a few months to live. He had been in Florida for about two years. He was fascinated with boats and water; he was the main suspect in the investigation. Benny had been a patient at a mental hospital years ago and was diagnosed as bipolar and schizophrenic; the doctors prescribed him lithium. They say he walked out of the hospital one day and never came back. The doctors believed he stopped taking his medicine and became unstable again. There was a warrant out for his arrest; he was linked to a murder that had occurred in Kentucky. Benny had supposedly killed Captain Anthony's younger brother over the disappearance of some money. But, Benny didn't know the man he supposedly killed was Captain Anthony's brother. The question was did Captain Anthony know Benny may have killed him. Benny always believed he had been set up by his roommate but he could never prove it. He worked in the homeless mission in Nashville, Tennessee for a while. When winter came he moved to Florida. The investigation was closed; they never figured out how the explosion happened. The investigation could not come up with enough solid evidence to pinpoint who placed the bomb on the boat. It was considered a random act with no real solid motive. The case went on for years, but later on in 1986 it was labeled a cold case FL0762-NK.

*****

Sycamore Tales

Ferguson's Trestle at Swindler's Point

Little Creek, Missouri ran down through Harris Hollow and crossed into the hilly bottom of Ferguson's Trestle at Swindler's Point. Not far from town, Ferguson's Trestle stretched across the hills of Swindler's Point. At certain times of the day, you can hear the clickety clack sound of the Missouri Sidewinder #28 crossing the trestle. Late in the evening, you can hear the lonesome cry of the train. If it's foggy, the winding cry haunts the bottom land with a weak sound of clickety clack. The trestle was built in the 1930's. At that time, it opened up the gateway through the Ozark Mountains in Gilmore County. At one time it carried passengers, but now days it carries mostly freight. The old train depot is almost gone; what's left of it has been converted into some shopping stores.

It was in 1970 when three women disappeared; their bodies were never found. The police worked on the case day and night, but failed to solve it. The three women were last seen at the Past Midnight Bar and Lounge on US Highway 32 at Junction 12-A. After they left the lounge, they were never seen or heard from again. What little leads the police got in the investigation led to a cold trail. The missing women's case was eventually filed as unsolved crimes. Two of the women were from Indiana. They were high school friends from the same town; Jennifer Key was eighteen and Tabitha Johnson was nineteen. The other woman, Deanna Langford, was from Kentucky; she was twenty-one. She had no connection to the other two women.

There was not another disappearance until 1974 when a fourth woman disappeared from the same lounge. Linda Cannon, age twenty, was from upstate Missouri. She was passing through Little Creek on her way to a job in Louisiana. But, the killer made a mistake this time. He dropped her driver's license on the ground not too far from where he buried her. Her license was found by some children playing near the old Fitts house on Old Bottom Road near Ferguson's Trestle. They gave it to their parents and their parents notified the police. When the police came to check it out, they found Linda's body buried in a shallow grave not far from where the children had been playing. She had been dead about two weeks. She had been stabbed seven times in her chest and stomach. As the police probed around in the area, they found three more bodies buried in shallow graves. The police believed they were the three women who disappeared in 1970. By now, the crime lab had moved in; the police gathered enough evidence to reopen the case. Just like the other women's cars, Linda's car was found not far from the lounge. It too had been abandoned on the side of the road. The police were sure the two cases were related.

The police always suspected that the killer hid in the parking lot of the lounge. The parking lot didn't have lights so it would be easy for the killer to prey on the victims and abduct them. The victims left alone, except for Jennifer and Tabitha; they left together. The police had several theories on what may have happened. One theory was when the victims left the lounge they would head to their cars to leave. The killer would approach them and strike up a friendly conversation. Once they let their guard down, the killer would force them into their car and drive off. Their second theory was that the killer was hiding in the back seat of the victim's cars and when they drove away from the bar and lounge, the killer would grab them from behind. The killer knew which car belonged to the victims because he would already be in the parking lot when they arrived. Once they were in the bar and lounge he would go to their cars and wait for them. The third theory was that they came up on him as he walked down the road late at night and they pulled over to give him a ride. Lastly, it was possible he knew the way the victims were going and blocked the road; when the victims stopped, he grabbed them.

All four victims had been stabbed seven times; the primary cause of death. No fingerprints were ever found. The lab reported that Linda Cannon's wounds were similar to those found on the bodies in the Fitts Murder Case in 1969. It appeared they were killed with the same murder weapon; a double edge butcher knife with a fork on the end. It had a saw on one edge and a regular knife on the other. The knife, including the handle, was about seven to eight inches long. Stories have been told, but have never been confirmed, that back in 1969 the Fitts family lived in the old house near the trestle when a stranger broke in and killed the mother and father. Their son, who lived there with them, disappeared and was never found; his name was Ollie Fitts. The police often wondered if their son killed them and not a stranger passing through. Also, they believed that Ollie saw the killer and may know the killer as well. They put an APB out on Ollie for questioning. But, they never could find him. It's possible the killer may have taken him. The mother and father were both stabbed seven times with the same kind of weapon used in Linda Cannon's murder. The police now wondered if the stranger or Ollie had returned to Little Creek. The police also suspected that the other three victims were victims of the same killer. The lab removed their bodies for further testing; there was nothing but bones, fragments of clothing and some dried blood. The lab, however, took dental records and verified who they were. It was never proven who killed Ollie's parents or what happened to Ollie and the stranger.

The police always suspected the killer would try again. So, they put two undercover officers in the bar and lounge. The officers were Miles Long, a part-time bartender, and Vickie Likens, a woman cop. But, little did anyone know, Ollie was working at the bar and lounge as the janitor. He had changed his name, identification and wore a disguise. He didn't want to take the chance of someone recognizing him. He had died his hair, grew a mustache with a shadow of a beard and wore black rimmed glasses. Ollie had worked there for about two months before Linda Cannon was murdered. Ollie, like the others at the bar and lounge, were unaware of the undercover cops.

Just about everybody hung around Past Midnight Bar and Lounge. It was a barnlike looking building with a bar, a lounge and dance hall. It was decorated with antiques and neon signs. It also had a stage for the band, a revolving circle bar and a cafeteria dining area. Some came just to eat, while others came for the entertainment. They drank, danced, shot pool and listened to music. They had great food too, especially on Friday and Saturday nights. The band was hot and the dancing was out of this world. Everyone danced to the high heavens to songs like the 'Missouri Shake Down' and the 'Mule Heel Blues.' Richie, the bartender, always kept the drinks coming. The Past Midnight Bar and Lounge was the only joint in town with excitement.

"What about another round over here, Richie?" called one man from a nearby table.

As Vickie sat at the bar and looked the barroom over, she didn't see anything unusual. A couple of men had tried to hit on her but she took care of that. Miles looked around to; it seemed like a typical bar night to him. Miles stayed busy at the bar serving drinks.

"Give me another one," yelled another man at the bar.

As usual, with all the drinking, a fight broke out; everyone stepped out of the way. They went at it until the bouncer broke it up. It was over one of the guy's girlfriend. Fighting happens every once in a while when someone drinks too much and becomes a hothead. But, you have that at just about every bar. People were coming and going all night long.

The story of the Fitts family began when they were murdered in the house next to the trestle. Ollie's mama was from Kentucky; she lived there with her husband until Ollie was two years old. She took him from his daddy and ran off to Tennessee with another man; she kept Ollie from his biological father. Ollie's mother and the man married in Tennessee and lived there for three years and then moved to Missouri. When Ollie was growing up he never knew the man he called daddy was actually his stepdad, not his biological father. His mother broke the news to him on his sixteenth birthday. Ollie was hurt that she didn't tell him sooner. His stepdad had been pretty good to him; they had their moments. But, as he grew older, they drifted further apart. He resented his mother for not telling him, but he repressed his anger toward her because she was his mother. After he found out the truth about his daddy, he started getting into trouble. He got into fights, which led to trouble with the law. His mama repeatedly told him he was just like his daddy. One day as his mother was looking for something in the cedar chest, she found Ollie's birth certificate and an old photo of her and Ollie's daddy. She gave them to Ollie; he carried the picture around with him from that day on. It made him feel better and he was relieved to know the truth; he finally had proof.

It had been several days and everything at the lounge was running as usual. The two undercover cops had not seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. There had not been any more abductions. An unmarked police car parked outside the lounge in the parking lot sat idle, waiting for something to happen. There were also two patrol cars patrolling the roads near the bar and lounge. They spent most of their time arresting the bar and lounge patrons for dui.

One evening, Ollie decided to go back to the old house where he grew up. The house was in ruins. Most of the windows were broken and part of the roof had fallen in. The floors squeaked and popped; the walls were full of holes. It was hard for him to imagine that he had actually lived there. As he walked around reminiscing, he couldn't help but see the rats running here and there. He even came upon a chicken snake that nearly scared him to death. It was home at one time, he mumbled to himself. He could picture his mama setting the kitchen table and his stepdad watching TV and the smell of the tobacco burning in his pipe. It all began to come back to him. Especially the night the murders happened when he was fifteen years old. His stepdad was watching TV and his mama was in the kitchen fixing supper. Ollie was prowling around in the living room closet looking for something when suddenly a strange man kicked the front door in and rushed in. His stepdad jumped up out of his seat and yelled for Ollie and his mother. Ollie eased back into the closet and watched through the crack of the door. The stranger grabbed his stepdad first and stabbed him several times in the chest and stomach; blood splattered everywhere. Ollie covered his eyes because he couldn't bear to see it. About that time, his mother ran from the kitchen into the living room screaming at the top of her lungs. But, her screams were drowned out by the Missouri Sidewinder crossing the trestle. As his stepdad bent over and fell to the floor, the stranger grabbed Ollie's mama and stabbed her. Ollie couldn't bear it, he was scared to death the stranger would kill him. His mama doubled up and fell to the floor next to his stepdad. The stranger looked around the room as he held the knife dripping with the warm blood of his mama and stepdad. Ollie quietly leaned back in the closet and eased the door closed. Everything fell quiet; all Ollie could hear was his racing heartbeat and breathing. When he had almost calmed down, the closet door flew open and there before him stood the stranger with the bloody knife. Ollie was face to face with him. The man slowly lifted his hand from his side and placed it on Ollie's head. Ollie was so afraid he wet his pants. The stranger paused for a minute and looked at him. He slowly stroked Ollie's hair and moved his hand down the side of Ollie's face. He eventually rested his hand under Ollie's chin. Without harming Ollie, he turned and left. Ollie sat in the closet with the warm blood of his parents smeared on the side of his face. Ollie knew the man was no stranger. He was the man in the picture his mama had given him from the cedar chest weeks ago. The man was his real daddy. Scared and afraid that he might come back, Ollie ran off into the woods behind the house. He was afraid and in shock with no place to go. He made his way up to Swindler's Point because he knew the train would slow down enough for him to hop it; it always slowed down to ease through the tunnel.

Suddenly, Ollie heard a car pull up. He rushed over to the window and looked out. It was his daddy with one of the women from the lounge. Quickly, he turned and ran into the living room closet again. As his daddy barged in the door, he was dragging the woman by her hair. She was screaming and kicking, but he was too much for her; he was in control. Ollie watched his daddy slap her around the room, pull her hair and tear her clothes off. The next time he hit her, she fell to the floor with blood dripping from her mouth. As she lay unconscious, he gagged her and tied her up with rope. His dad then walked across the room and pissed in the corner. He lit up a cigarette and started smoking. After he finished his cigarette, he walked over to her, grabbed her by the hair of her head, pulled back her head and spit in her face. After that, he started pacing the floor back and forth. Within a few minutes, the woman started coming to. Unaware that she was coming around, the man left to go hide the car. When he went out the front door, Ollie slipped out of the closet to untie the woman. Vickie saw him come out of the closet and realized he was the janitor that worked at the bar and lounge. Afraid for Ollie, she tried to watch out for him as he untied her. If the man knew she was a cop, he would have killed her on the spot; Ollie didn't even know.

Back at the lounge Miles noticed he hadn't seen or heard from Vickie lately. He had seen her go outside, but he never saw her come back in. A few minutes later, he got worried and decided to call it in. The patrol cars checked the roads around the bar and lounge but couldn't find her. However, her car was still in the parking lot. Miles left the bar and lounge to help with the search. The police knew they had to act immediately on the situation. They figured the killer may have gotten her.

Back at the Fitts house, Vickie and Ollie ran out the back door and into the woods. Ollie pretty much knew every inch of the woods since he used to play there all the time as a child. But as they took off for the woods, Ollie's dad heard them. He grabbed his gun and went into the woods after them. Luckily for them, there was a full moon that night and it made it easier for them to see the way. Unfortunately, it also made it easier for him to see them. The game of cat and mouse had begun. It seemed like they could not get away from him. A couple of times they had to stop to catch their breath. Every time they stopped to catch their breath, he would shoot at them, but each time he missed and hit a tree instead.

By this time, the police had figured out the killer had Vickie and pretty much knew where he had taken her. They were on their way to the old Fitts' house near the trestle.

Ollie figured if they could get to the highway on the other side of the woods, they could probably lose him. As they reached the end of the woods, they ran out in front of a car and almost got hit by the car. The driver stopped to see if they were okay. He was shaken and scared. As he was asking them what was wrong, he looked over toward the edge of the woods and saw a man pointing a gun directly at them. Ollie's daddy shot into the air; everyone scattered. The man jumped back in his car and took off. Vickie went one way and Ollie the other. Vickie believed she could double back to the house, get to the car and get help. As she ran through the woods and raced against the clock, she pushed with all her might to get back to the house. She worried about Ollie because she never saw him again after they split up. She didn't see Ollie's dad, but she could sense his presence. It was dark; she tripped and fell a couple of times, nearly breaking her leg. Finally, she reached the house. She couldn't see him but she heard him calling out her name over and over, taunting her. She ran and hid behind an old rain barrel. She watched and waited for him to appear. When she peeped up over the rain barrel, the light of the moon shined through the trees and they stood face to face. As they stared at each other, he suddenly reached for her hair. She screamed and fought for her life. When she kneed him in his groin, he let her go and buckled up at his knees. She took off running toward the trestle and started climbing. Within minutes, he had regained his composure and looked up to see her climbing the trestle. He tried to grab her feet and legs to pull her back down. But, she kicked and screamed trying to fight him off. They climbed up and up and up. By then the place was covered with police. They saw Vickie climbing the trestle with a man hot on her heels. One of the officers wanted to shoot him. But, the officer in charge was afraid he might hit Vickie; it wasn't a clear shot. Miles reached for his gun and shot up into the air as he ran toward the trestle. Then out of the night came a piercing light. It was the Missouri Sidewinder crossing the trestle. As Vickie kicked, the vibration of the train passing on the trestle caused him to slip and loose his stance. When he leaded back, he lost his grip and fell from the trestle down through a pine thicket to the ground. Miles rushed over to the trestle to help Vickie get back down. He climbed the trestle as fast as he could to get to her. She was frozen in her tracks, but she had a tight grip on the trestle. As Miles climbed, he kept telling her not to look down and he was on his way. Finally, he reached her and carefully helped her back down. She was weak and trembling when they put her into the ambulance and took her to the hospital. However, she was okay. The other officers continued to search the pine thicket for the killer. They searched and searched but he seemed to have disappeared; they couldn't find him.

"He's got to be around here somewhere," said one officer.

"Maybe he crawled away," said another officer.

"Not from that fall. I don't think so," replied Miles as he walked up. "It's so dark I can hardly see."

By the time the police found the killer, he was dead. He had a broken leg and arm from the fall, but that was not the cause of his death. He had been stabbed seven times in his chest and stomach. After a thorough search of the area, they found nothing.

Vickie figured the young man who helped her had also gotten away. The next day she turned in her report and at the same time, on Highway 95, a young man stood beside the road hitchhiking with a sign in his hand that read 'Kansas.'

*****

Sycamore Tales

Other Side of Nowhere

(A Parable)

There came a time, in the land of Wuz, when an old man left and took a far away journey to the other side of nowhere. The people of Wuz, the land of Wuz and Nowhere lay beyond the shadows of the mountains in the valley of No More. The Lord guided the old man's steps through the Naked Desert and the Forgotten Forest that dwelt not too far from Wuz. In the Naked Desert dwelt the Wuznots. The land was barren since the Lord had held back the rain; it had not rained in the desert for three years.

There was a place in the desert where the Wuznots went to pray. Each day they would come and go, some came from far off and others came from near. The old man saw that the Wuznots were good; he prayed with them and then left for Nowhere. As he left the Naked Desert, he stopped and looked back over it. In the sky he saw a dark cloud, about the size of a man's hand, full of rain. Then there came the sound of thunder and a flash of light lit up the sky. The Wuznots praised the Lord for the rain.

The journey of the old man carried him to the Forgotten Forest where there was no light. The trees were so thick that the lights from Heaven couldn't shine through to the forest, so the forest stayed dark because of the lack of light. The people who dwelt there were Forget-me-nots. They got their name from the flowers they grew. But as the years went by, the forest grew so thick that it shut out all the light to the forget-me-nots and they could not grow. It came to pass, in the land of darkness, the Forget-me-nots prayed each day unto the Lord for light to peer through the darkness so the forget-me-nots could grow. The old man saw that everything was good. He saw the love in their beauty and he told the Lord that they were good. It came to pass that the old man prayed in the Forgotten Forest. He prayed that the Lord would divide the light between the forget-me-not flowers so they could grow and the Forget-me-not people so they could pray and see the light. After seven days, the light appeared in the Forgotten Forest. All the Forget-me-nots and the old man praised the Lord and exclaimed that everything was good. The light came as fire burning its way through the timbers and left behind a trail of light. After seven more days, the forget-me-nots bloomed and the sweet smell of the flowers traveled through the forest. The Forget-me-nots were forgotten no more.

There would be many days that would come to pass before the old man reached the shadows of the mountains in the valley of No More. A strong wind drove him; it guided his steps to where he was going, the other side of Nowhere. As the wind became still, the travels of the old man came to a halt at the foot of the mountains in the shadows of the valley of No More. Carefully, he looked up at the giant, silent beast that stood before him. He looked to the left and then to the right for the direction he should go. He was faced with three roads from which to choose. He brought it upon himself to choose the choice he chose. As he walked to the left, he looked up the road and saw three goats standing in the path of his way. Then he looked to the right and there stood a big black bear that was foaming at the mouth standing in the path of his way. That's when he remembered he had forgotten to pray. He immediately asked the Lord to forgive him for not seeking his will. After his repenting prayers, the old man looked back to the left and the goats were gone; he looked to the right and the big black bear had also disappeared. He paused for a moment and listened to the still voice that came from within the mountains. The old man walked straight and narrow down the middle of his journeys path. After a while, he came upon a creek that flowed wild and free through the mountain. There in the shallow of the creek laid twelve stones that allowed him to cross the flowing water. As he stepped on each stone, step by step, he never tilted from side to side nor did he step off the path a step or two. He prayed and made it to the other side. When he crossed the creek, he did nothing. He saw an old bridge that someone had burned some time ago. The charred boards and planks lay in the creek bed with the nails covered in rust. Some of the bridge laid covered with mud while the other was buried in the creek bed. The old man wondered how many had crossed the bridge, how many people had burned it and how many bridges were still left to burn.

The people who lived in the mountains of the shadows of the valley of No More were called Lost. They lived in the caves of the mountains and in the cracks and crannies of the cliffs. The Lost had nowhere to go, nor any way of going back. They were hard workers; they dug tunnels through the mountains. Yet, they were still lost, searching and looking for a way to be found. However, they had no time for the Lord since they were too busy digging tunnels searching not for what they needed but looking for what they could not find. The old man watched them for days and days. The Lost knew that something was missing in their hearts and lives. The old man tarried there for a season and let his light so shine that the Lost would become aware of how they stood and what they needed. The example the old man set opened up their hearts and eyes unto the Lord. And one day a blessing came to them and set them free from the bondage that held them captive. Through the blood of the lamb on the wings of a dove, the Lost were set free through their many prayers and the prayers of the old man. The Lord changed their name from Lost to Found. That very day, the Lord smiled and placed a bow across the sky. The emptiness in them was filled with the Lord's Spirit that took them to their new home beyond the tip of the mountains of the shadows of the valley of No More. The Found prayed daily unto the Lord and read his Word that became an instrumental plumb line for them to live by.

In the mountains of the shadows of No More was a path from No More to Nowhere. As it was, the passage way was straight and narrow until the other side when the way became wide and broad. On the other side of Nowhere there was plenty of rain and light. The people who dwelt there were called Nothings. They were Nothings doing nothing and all that they did do was worthless. The Nothings were blind and could not see. They roamed here and there in the land of Nowhere. The land was corrupt, diseased and withered. It was bitter as gall and the wind stayed angry. After a while, the rains and the light were cut off; the land lay in waste and their needs went unfilled. The ground was hard, dry and cracked. The bitterness in the wind scorched the ground so that not even a weed would grow. As far as the old man could see, there were Nothings doing nothing that didn't amount to anything. The moon was the light and the stars had fallen from the sky. At night a devilish chill roamed the land until the break of day. Slowly, the moon would hide behind the clouds as nothing happened. The Nothings carried on with nothing in the land of Nowhere. Sin was abounding upon every hand; wars, murders, rapes, and adultery took a toll. Drugs and immoral sex lives conquered every being of Nowhere. The Nothings took it all and left none behind for they were guided by the spirit of darkness that hung over them like a dark cloud. When the old man prayed, he looked and saw above their heads a cobweb intertwined with negative thoughts and hopeless dreams.

"My God, my God," the old man cried, "is there no hope or way for them this day?"

The Lord spoke not a word but eventually said, "Old man, don't tarry too long unless you plan to become a Nothing too."

But, the old man pleaded with the Lord. He said, "But, Lord, if I find one who shall turn away would that not bring hope? Maybe I can find 40, 30, 20, 10 or one; wouldn't just one be worth it, I say."

"Find me one, old man, amongst the Nothings of Nowhere and I'll see how true your love is to me. But remember, don't tarry long or you will be a Nothing in the land of Nowhere."

The old man roamed and searched the city as he cried out, "Would there be one to set an example and come to the Lord? Only one it will take for the others to follow. I'm sure they will for God is great, merciful and is love."

But, the more he cried, the Nothings changed not. The young and the old stood naked and shameless. It all had become their way of life, accepted from generation to generation. Nothing would ever change; it was all hopeless.

As the time passed, the old man began to fall weak. He had been too long out of the light and his faith was tarnished with doubt and unbelief. He tried to make it back to the passage but it appeared he had stayed too long. Slowly, his thoughts became mangled, his eyes lost their twinkle and his desire to go was slowly changing. Then out of the darkness the old man heard a voice.

"Lord, is that you? My Lord," he said with the last tear in his eye.

"I see you have found one," said the Lord.

"Oh, no, oh, no, my Lord, I have found not one."

"Yes, my son, you have one," replied the Lord.

"I beg you," my Lord, "whom is this one I am supposed to have found?"

The Lord replied, "It's you."

The old man began to cry and so did the Nothings who hadn't cried in a long time. The Lord parted the darkness and there was light. The scales fell from the eyes of the Nothings; they were able to see the glory of God, his son Jesus and the power of his might.

"But how, Lord? How could this be?" asked the old man.

"All they needed was for one to step out and show them the way. I used you as my instrument to spread hope to them this day. Your faith, patience and love that you showed was the key I needed to touch their hearts and spare their souls."

The Lord blessed their land and changed their name from Nothing to Something. All was well on the other side of Nowhere where the sun is the light of the day. The old man cried out this time with joy in his soul.

The old man shouted out with joy, "Lord, it is good. Ain't they something!"

The Lord looked down from Heaven and replied, "Amen, my son. Yes, it is good. They are something."

The old man accomplished what he set out to do so he returned to Wuz.

*****

Sycamore Tales

The Garden of the Seventh Trellis

By the light of the silvery sky, the days were as they were and the time was as it was in the season of the darkened moon. I was on a journey from where I had been to where I was going. There beside the road was a wagon with odds and ends furniture, whatnots, odd pieces, and scrap items. As I pulled up, there seemed to be no one around. The wagon was broken; its paint was flaked, scarred and scratched. Carefully, I prowled about. As I peeped inside the wagon there came a voice from behind the wagon, startling me.

"May I help you," the man's voice asked.

"Oh, I don't know," I replied as I looked on.

"I have some very unique pieces," he said as he rubbed his mustache and long black beard. "Some of them may interest you."

"Maybe," I hesitantly replied.

I didn't want to appear so eager. I was amazed at his odd collection of rare pieces.

"Where on earth did you get all this junk?" I questioned.

I didn't want to create an attitude of being too interested.

"My collection consists of rare collectables from all over the world," he said proudly.

"So, I see," I replied as I continued to survey his collection.

"Do you see anything that catches your eye?" he asked.

Suddenly, I saw it buried deep within the clutter. It was a reflection; a small beam of light that flickered. Hurriedly, I dug my way through all the junk until I reached the back of the wagon and laid my hands on it. As I reached for it, it seemed to reach for me. When I grabbed it to pull it out, it seemed to grab me to help push its way through all the clutter. I brought it out into a much clearer and brighter light; it stood boldly before me. It was an old mirror dressed in mahogany finish. The wood was embroidered with leaves, flowers and jewels; it was laced with golden trim and touched with a silver glaze. It hung inside an ivory trellis from golden rods with diamond tips.

"So, you found something," spoke up the stranger.

"Why, yes. Yes sir, I believe I have," I replied. "Where on earth did you find such a piece?"

"Why that old piece of old junk, I won it off a band of gypsies by playing cards one night, somewhere in Germany," he stated.

"What would you be asking for this?" I asked unpretentiously.

"Oh, it's not really for sale," he hesitantly said. "It's one of my favorite pieces of junk."

"I have to have it," I eagerly spoke. "It would look great in my home. Please, what on earth would be your price?"

"It's not really for sale," he replied. "But, I will tell you what. I'll loan it to you for a short while and by then, if you still want it, maybe I'll be willing to get rid of it."

"Why, yes," I cried. "That is an excellent idea. When will you come for it?"

"When I get there," he replied.

"But you don't know me or where I live."

"Oh, that's no problem," he said with a deep haunting laugh. "Are you ready to load it onto your truck?"

"Yes, sure, I'm ready," I mumbled.

We struggled with the mirror trellis, but we were finally able to get it in the truck bed.

"Now be careful," said the stranger, "and take good care of it. It may be junk to you now, but later you may find it to be a treasure."

Hurriedly, I drove home; I laughed and made fun of the old man all the way home. He doesn't know me so he doesn't know where I live, I said to myself. He's an old fool who doesn't know anything. He thinks he has loaned it to me, but I'm going to claim it as my own. Suddenly, I noticed the mirror trellis in the rearview mirror of my truck; it reflected the image of the old man with his haunting laugh. I could not believe what I was seeing. I checked my side mirrors and his image was there also. I slammed on my brakes. What on earth is happening? I cried out. Then as quickly as the image appeared, it was gone. I had no idea where the image came from. I thought for a moment as I tried to come to my senses. I took a deep breath and sighed. It's only me; I'm too tired I guess. I hurried home and struggled to get the mirror into the house. I worked and worked, resting every few minutes, until I finally got it in. I looked around to see where I could put it. I tried here and there but no place seemed to be the right spot. Finally, I found the very spot; I faced it east with the morning sunlight.

"There," I said. "That is the perfect place." As I stepped back, I couldn't help but adore the fine piece of workmanship as it stood before me.

I looked into the mirror and saw myself. It looked like I had gained a few pounds and needed a haircut. I turned from side to side and jumped back and forth. I was so happy and pleased with my new treasure that I had no intention of giving it back. As the days passed, I admired the mirror trellis more and more. I waited for the stranger, but he never came; he was probably miles away from here. Why that old fool didn't know my name or where I lived. He may have thought he did, but I tried to tell him. Day after day, I admired myself in the mirror. I combed my hair, brushed my teeth and admired how good my clothes looked on me. Weeks passed and the old man never came, just like I thought and hoped.

The lights from the east shined in through the nearby window and reflected in the mirror trellis; it lit up the room in a heavenly glow. It soon came to pass that morning as I stood before the mirror once more and the light of the east continued to shine through. As I stood there, my image in the mirror became a watery wave. Confused, I stepped closer to see what was wrong. When I reached out to touch the plated glass, I was pulled inside to the backside of the mirror. I was so afraid; I feared for my life. I screamed out, God help me! I fell weak; my body trembled, my legs quivered and my mouth dropped open. Cautiously, I looked around at my surroundings. I had no idea where I was. I wanted to go back, but didn't know how.

Carefully, I turned around. There was nothing behind me; no mirror back, trellis or light. There was nothing but empty space. As I continued to look about, a beautiful garden appeared before me with all kinds of flowers, trees and the smell of fresh spring. The woven carpet of green grass led to a path. I followed it throughout the midst of the garden and there stood a giant golden trellis draped with flowers, vines and pollinated with bees, hummingbirds and butterflies of all kinds. The sky was so blue and the air was so warm that you could smell the fragrance of each of the flowers in bloom. But, as I got closer and stepped into the trellis I suddenly heard a child crying. Startled, I looked down and there at my feet was a basket with a child wrapped in a sheet. I took the little one up into my arms, held him close and rocked him. As I swayed back and forth, I hummed a few lines of a song my mother used to sing to me when I was a child. Shortly, his little eyes fell heavy; he closed them and went to sleep. When I placed him back into his basket, I couldn't help but notice that he looked a whole lot like I did when I was a baby. As I slowly straightened up, I saw a giant eagle perched upon a limb directly across from me. I looked down to check on the baby and he was gone. I looked everywhere but I couldn't find him. I heard something above me and looked up; the eagle took flight and disappeared into the trees. Where, oh where did the baby go? I thought to myself. I looked up again to see if the eagle had returned but all I saw was a torn piece of the baby's sheet hanging from a tree limb and dangling in the wind. Slowly, I turned and walked out from under the second trellis and resumed my journey.

Not far down the path, I came upon a sign. The garden eventually led to the valley of the midst where Lick Creek crossed Stone Place. However, there was another sign that hung beneath it which read Oak Knob, Antique Shop and Winkers What Nots on the corner of Witcher and McClure. This must be my way, I thought. Maybe there I can find the mirror trellis and find my way home. It seemed like I had traveled for hours; I was tired and worn out. The air was getting warmer and the once cool breeze was now stifling. The freshness of spring had all but gone as the summer heat set in. I was about to give up when I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw the Oak Knob Antique Shop. It was an old rundown building with tarnished boards of age, broken windows and a collapsing porch. I rushed upon the porch and knocked on the door. I stopped when I noticed the out to lunch sign swinging in the wind. Should I wait or go, I thought. By now the sun was extremely hot. I paced back and forth as I tried to figure out what I should do. I didn't know if I should look in, go on or stay there. I decided to look in to see if I could see anything. But as I peeped into the dirty window, I saw nothing but an old empty room with a boarded floor. Disappointed, I turned and ran up the path and over the hill.

It seemed like I had run for miles until I fell beneath the third trellis in the garden. I asked myself if there was no end. I rose to my feet and looked about; I was sweating so because it was so hot. According to the sign, I was in the valley of Slick Rock. As I stood under the trellis, I saw a young boy playing in the meadow. He was flying a kite and tossing a ball like a typical boy. I watched in amazement at the young lad; I looked closely at him. Why he looks like the baby boy in the basket, I thought. I tried to get his attention by yelling out to him but I couldn't because I was bound by the trellis. I could see him but I couldn't reach out to him. As I watched the lad, I saw me in so many ways; I laughed and cried when I saw my victories and failures. Why, I even breathed the same breath for he was the image of my childhood life. Slowly, he faded into the light of the sky and vanished before me as he had once before. As soon as he vanished, the trellis unbound me and set me free. Once again, I put one foot in front of the other and tried to find my way.

I headed down the path away from the valley of Slick Rock. As I traveled, I noticed the air was getting more brisk and chilled. Hurriedly, I made my way down the path. I saw the leaves begin to change; the reds, yellows, oranges, and mint greens were so beautiful. I could have looked at them all day. The sky had even started to blend. The clear blue sky was now mangled with gray and white; there was even a patch of black here and there. It came to pass, as I wandered the path that was once green and is now brownish yellow that I reached the fourth trellis in the garden of the valley. Lo and behold, there before me was a beautiful maiden. She was so beautiful to look upon in that garden of love. She was as I had always dreamed of. She took my hand in the spot where one path of the garden crossed another; it was called Crooked Point. We had so much to talk about and learn. Together, we strolled onward. Finding the end didn't matter to either of us. We were in the beautiful garden together. Her name was Priscilla and my name is Nathan. We became as one in this garden of love. Onward we ventured into the autumn sunset and pressed upward toward the horizon to cross over to the other side.

Days came and weeks passed as we found refuge in the hollow of a tree under the fifth trellis called Twisted Limb. The ground was white with a heavy, thick blanket of snow. Ice hung from the trees as the chill of winter blew about us. We spent winter in the hollow of the tree and we were as one. As the days passed, we scratched a mark in the bark of the hollow so we would know how many days had passed. Winter was long and bitterly cold but the tree sheltered us from the elements. The days were short and the nights were long. I awoke one morning to the sound of dripping water. As I made my way out of the hollow of the tree, the sun was so bright and the sky was so blue. I looked down beside the tree and saw a flower that had bloomed through the patch of leftover snow. The air was a bit cool but the smell of spring was near. So, we packed up and moved on.

Just up ahead, we came upon the sixth trellis and beneath it was a cave inside of a hill. I knew we shouldn't return to the hollow of the tree because the birth of our son was near. Priscilla, me and Albert, our child to be, lived, loved and shared the garden of the valley of the sixth trellis. As the seasons passed, our days grew old; our child was now a young man and we were tarnished with gray and wrinkles of old.

We knew our time was drawing near as we ventured out again through the valley of the trellis. We didn't know if we would ever pass through that way again. Sorrowful and saddened by our mistakes, our hearts yearned for our youth. But, our loved endured through it all. When will our end be, I thought? When shall we awake and realize it might have all been a dream? Where do we find the end? Is it at the beginning where it all started? A long time had passed since I looked into the mirror trellis but what waited ahead was what worried me the most. The land that was once green with the abundance of flowers and trees is now a desert covered with rock and sand. The blue sky was now darkened with night and the smell of spring was but a memory of times passed. Onward we pressed toward the darkness that lurked in the sky. Miles and miles from everywhere we looked was nothing but empty sky on the horizon.

"But wait," I cried from atop of the Sandy Ridge. "Look over there; I see it."

"I see it too" she cried.

"Hurry," I shouted, "run as fast as you can."

As we grew nearer, our run slowed to a stop. There before us was the seventh trellis of the garden. And behold under it was a giant wooden door with a lock. I rushed over to it and tried to open it, but I couldn't. I beat, knocked and called out but there was no answer. I took a heavy stick and pried, pushed and pulled, but I still couldn't budge it.

"Look through the keyhole," she said. "See if you can see through to the other side."

I fell to my knees and pressed my eye against the keyhole to see; I figured this would be our way out. I suddenly gasped for a breath of air, for it almost took my breath away. My eyes watered and twitched as sweat ran down my face. There was only darkness behind the door; it was darker than a thousand midnights.

"What is it?" she asked. "What do you see?"

"There is only darkness," I replied.

She turned to me and questioned, "Is there no light?"

I looked once again and as my eyes searched, I found nothing. There wasn't a beam or even a glimmer of light.

"Hey, Dad," my son yelled. "Look at what is written on the door?"

"The valley of the seventh trellis set in the land that wuz and in the land that will never be," I read out loud.

"Look Nathan, look again," Priscilla insisted. "Maybe you are mistaken. Surely, there is a light."

"No, I didn't fail," I said as we sat down on a rock. "There's no hope," I cried. "It's all hopeless. Oh, God, where have I failed?"

We reached for each other and held each other tight. We cried together in our hopelessness of no light.

Our hope was about gone when Priscilla glanced up at the keyhole and then cried out, "Look, Nathan," she said with excitement.

In the keyhole I saw a glimmer of light. I jumped to my feet and rushed over to the door and looked in. There before me was a small spot of light.

Our sorrowful spirits leaped with joy until my wife cried out in fear, "Nathan, look out!"

Immediately, I looked down. The darkness was sweeping out from under the door. It was dark, black and sticky; it stretched as I tried to pull away. I pulled, pushed, jerked and yanked but I couldn't get away. My wife and son screamed as they fought to set me free. But, their efforts failed. Slowly, the darkness crept up my legs; it pulled and tugged at me.

"Let me go," I yelled out in the name of the Lord.

Unexpectedly, I heard a haunting but familiar voice calling my name.

"Nathan, Nathan, Nathan."

"How do you know me? How do you know my name I screamed?"

"I know who you are and where you live," said the haunting voice from the past. "Remember, it's only junk."

I started screaming like I had never screamed before. As the darkness raced up my body, I gasped for air. In the faint distance, I could hear a voice calling me by name.

"Nathan, Nathan, wake up."

As I felt hands about me, I leaped forward and cried, "I don't want to die."

I looked around and there was no one there but the old stranger from whom I had gotten the mirror trellis from.

"What on earth happened to you, Nathan?" he inquired? "Did you have a bad dream?"

"What did you call me?" I questioned. "How do you know my name and where I live?" I asked as a woman and young man entered the room.

"Oh, by the way, Nathan," he said. "This is my wife, Priscilla and my son, Albert."

"But.....it can't be," I mumbled.

"What's wrong with him?" asked the stranger's wife.

"Oh," said the old man, "he probably had a bad dream is all."

"Bad dream," I said.

"Do you still want to buy the mirror trellis or do you want me to pick it up?" questioned the old man. "That's why I'm here."

*****

Sycamore Tales

Plea of Not Guilty

It was the summer of 1948 in Sycamore Creek, Mississippi in Anderson County. The town was so small; if you didn't have to slow down for the bump in the road, you would miss the town. It had turned hot early that year. The spring rains were few and far apart; we needed rain badly. I remember that summer was so hot and humid that you could hardly bare it. Late in the evening we would either sit out on the porch or by an open window hoping to catch the cool summer breeze that blew in after the sun went down. At night you could hear the crickets and frogs; it was such a relaxing sound. We, the children, would catch lightning bugs and play hide-n-go seek. We loved to catch June bugs; we'd tie a string around one of their back legs and let them fly above our heads as we held on tightly to the other end of the string.

We lived back off from the main road. There was an old wagon road we used as our drive. It was used to bring cut timber from the back of the farm to the main road during logging times. Just above the house was another road that cut down through the field leading to the creek. The old log road, our drive, that went down behind the house had been closed for years. We drew our water from a well, gathered our own eggs from our chickens and our milk from the cows. In the early summer, we would pick poke salad and hunt for ginseng to use and sale. We didn't have much nor did anyone else, at that time, in Sycamore Creek because it was one of the poorest towns in Mississippi. There weren't any factories, only a few businesses and very few people. Why we stayed there I'll never know. I'm sure it was because Mama and Daddy was born and raised there. Times were hard; we grew most of our food in the garden. We ate some and canned some for the winter. Daddy and some friends cut wood for winter heat. We bought lard, salt, flour and meal at the country store located not too far from the house. We'd use what little money we had to pay for it or we would trade eggs, picked berries or even ricks of wood to help pay for it. In the winter, we killed hogs and smoked the meat. We had shoulders, hams and bacon in the smokehouse behind the house. We would eat all of the hog including the chitterlings and pigs feet. Daddy would also make sausage. He'd cook the fat off the meat to make lard and make cracklings out of the skin. Mama made souse meat out of all the remaining scrap pieces; I didn't like that too much. But, that was the south back then. We wore hand me downs, went barefoot and played in the creeks. Late at night, in the summer time, you could hear coon hunters running their dogs in the distance.

I remember the night that changed our lives like it was yesterday. Everyone was asleep when the sirens pierced through the darkness creating a haunting sound that sent chills down our spines. I wondered what it was and what on earth had happened. In only a matter of minutes, I heard the police cars as they sped down the main road and turned off onto the old wagon road leading to our house. The other police cars and ambulance took the road through the field above the house. Word spread like wildfire that a half naked white girl was found laying in the small creek that ran through the back of our farm. The police cars stopped at our house. Mama and I were already out on the porch. They got out and began asking questions; questions I didn't like. Mama told me to go get Daddy. When I went to get him, he wasn't anywhere around. We hadn't seen him since supper. The officers proceeded with their questions. I asked them why they were asking all the questions. The officer let me know real quick that he was the one asking the questions. The other officer was looking around the house and peeping in the windows. Within a few minutes, he came from around the back of the house and Daddy was with him. When I saw Daddy, I ran to him and hugged him; I started crying.

Daddy looked at me and said, "Don't cry, Butterfly, everything will be alright."

"Where have you been, Jeremiah?" asked the officer.

Daddy looked over at him and replied, "I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk."

"Where did you go, Jeremiah?" the officer questioned.

Daddy replied back, "Down behind the house and headed back home. When I heard the sirens, I cut through the garden behind the house from off the road."

"Can anyone verify your story, Jeremiah?" he asked.

"No, sir," he replied. "I was alone."

The officer shined his flashlight at Daddy's feet. Daddy's shoes and the bottom of his pant legs were wet and muddy.

"How did your shoes get so wet and muddy?" asked the officer.

Daddy took a deep breath and sighed, "It must have happened when I cut through the garden behind the house."

"We haven't had any rain in a while, Jeremiah," he stated.

"Well," he said, "late this evening I watered the garden from the well."

"My Daddy is telling the truth," I yelled.

"I understand, Butterfly, but we have to question all the possibilities," explained the officer.

Mama stepped up behind him and said, "Jeremiah is telling the truth. I helped him water the garden."

"Is that right, Jeremiah?"

Daddy didn't say anything at first, but then he put his arm around Mama's shoulders and said, "That's right."

I stepped up to Daddy's defense once again, "My Daddy ain't no liar."

"What exactly are you insinuating?" Mama inquired. "Is he being charged with something?"

"No ma'am," assured the officer. "But, some coon hunters found a dead woman in the creek on your land," he said.

"Wait a minute, are you accusing Jeremiah of that girl's death?"

"No ma'am," interrupted the officer. "Nobody is accusing anyone of anything. We are simply asking questions at this time. We are checking around in the area to see if anyone heard or seen anything out of the ordinary," replied the officer, "that's all. Thank you for your time. We will be in touch," he said as they left.

"Oh, Daddy," I cried. "Surely they don't suspect you."

"Jeremiah, where in the world have you been?" questioned Mama.

"I took a walk," he answered. "Is there anything wrong with that?"

We didn't know it at the time, but Daddy had gone back down to the creek where he found the woman's body. No one was there but he sensed he was being watched so he left and came back home.

"A walk in the middle of the night!" she scolded him.

"I have done nothing wrong," he answered with a stern voice. "It's not against the law to take a walk at night."

It was early the next morning when I saw the police cars go down the road through the field; there were several of them. I assumed they were going to search the crime scene to see what they could find. It was around dinner when I saw them coming up through the field back to the main road. Daddy and Mama didn't say much to each other. But, they did understand the unfortunate situation that we were in. A dead white girl found on the property of a black family stirred a lot of talk in Anderson County. It made it even worse that she had been raped. It was like waking up in a bad dream, not knowing what would happen next. Some of the neighbors came to offer their help, if we needed it, and some of them quit coming around at all because they didn't want to get involved. But, besides it all, we would have to face it on our own. I was afraid, especially for Daddy. It was but a few days when the police came knocking on our door and asked for Daddy. I'll never forget that day as long as I live. They put Daddy's hands behind his back and placed handcuffs around his wrists. I started crying and holding onto him, but another officer pulled me off him.

Mama cried out, "Take your hands off our child!" As tears filled her eyes, she turned to Daddy, "Jeremiah it's going to be alright."

I held onto Mama as they escorted him to the police car. The policeman told Mama that they were taking him in for questioning and he was not being charged at the time with anything. As Mama and I stood in the yard watching them leave, I knew from it all that things would never be the same again.

Mama fell to her knees and cried, "Oh, my God."

I tried to comfort her; I knew she would never let it go. From that day on, my Daddy turned hard against life. I guess, in some ways, I did too. But, I always believed my Daddy was innocent and I didn't care what evidence they had. In my heart and eyes, it would be easy for him to make a plea of not guilty.

They interrogated Daddy and held him until the next day. The police had found Daddy's pocket watch at the creek near her body. It was the watch I gave Daddy last Christmas. The watch was found partially covered with mud on the bank of the creek and the broken chain dangled in the water. Daddy told them he must have lost it when he was hunting for ginseng. The watch was splattered with drops of blood and her blood was on the ground everywhere. There was a cut on her forehead, but that wasn't the cause of death; her throat had been cut. Her name was Billie Duncan, the daughter of Jimmy Duncan. According to the obituary, they had just moved to Sycamore Creek a few months before she was killed. She had been murdered around 8:45 that Friday morning. The coon hunters found her body around eleven o'clock that Friday night. The girl had a fractured skull; the police assumed she was hit in the head with a rock from the creek, but the rock was never found. She was bound; her hands and feet had been tied. She was also gagged. Her breasts were covered with bite marks and her nose had been broken.

The police received an anonymous phone call which helped the investigation. The caller stated that he had seen Daddy running out of the woods toward his house around 8:15 that Friday morning. The caller said he was driving down the road when he saw Daddy running and as long as he had known him he had never seen him move so fast. The police presented the startling new evidence to the DA and they arrested Daddy. He was charged with second degree murder.

It's true; Daddy was in the woods that day when the girl was killed. I found that out when I visited him in prison; he was hunting ginseng down by the creek. He heard someone coming through the woods so he ran and hid behind some trees and bushes. When he peeped out, he saw three white boys and a white girl. She was blindfolded, gagged and her hands were tied behind her back. The boys were laughing and acting like they were on something, probably drunk. They horsed around with her as they pushed and knocked her around. He then looked down the stream trying to figure out a way to get out of the situation. When he saw them turn the other way, he got the opportunity to slip back up the creek. He didn't think they saw him, but they must have. He was afraid to tell me what happened after that. He was sure the girl was still alive when he left. Only the Lord knows what happened after that. Daddy said he was extremely troubled after that, even to the day he died; he was never quite the same. The haunting of the girl paid a big toll on him. He told me he was raised to stay out of other people's business, especially white people's trouble. There ain't too many white people who would listen to a black man's advice. But, Daddy told me many times if he had it to do over, he would have done things differently. That night Daddy went for a walk he was bothered by what he had seen earlier in the day. He made the second trip down to the creek to see if she was still there. When he arrived, she was all alone. The upper part of her body lay on the bank and the other part was in the creek. He said he cried out for God to forgive him. Then he said he heard some dogs coming and he took off running back to the house. When he reached home, the police were there; it was 11:30 that Friday night.

The next few weeks were terrible. It seemed like they was rushing through things to get the trial over with. The trial date was set and it rolled around so quickly. Daddy's lawyer didn't have enough time to prepare a proper defense for him. They had already started selecting a jury. Daddy's court appointed lawyer didn't act like he had too much sense. Mama and I tried to get enough money to retain a good lawyer for Daddy but they were so expensive; we couldn't afford it. Yes, the trial was the talk of the town. A black man had raped and killed a white girl. The trouble was everyone was so busy running their mouths that they didn't want to hear the truth,

I didn't know until years later that one of the white inmates had threatened Daddy. He told me that certain people were watching him and us, his family. And that a group had their eyes and ears open on how Daddy was going to handle the trial. He let him know how pretty Mama and I were; he told him he hoped nothing happened to us. Daddy was terrified and feared for our safety as well as his. He didn't have time to respond to the white inmate before the jailer came in and told the man he was free to go. Daddy told me as the man left he turned and told him that he would see him around and that he was counting on him. Daddy knew where he was coming from. Inside he hurt over it all, but he knew he had to be careful. He didn't want to jeopardize me and Mama. He told me if anything ever happened to me and Mama he wouldn't be able to bare it because we were all he had in this world. He said he thought many times about what his daddy always said and that was to stay out of white people's business. He respected his daddy and understood. But how in the hell can a person stay out of it when they put you in the middle of it. Then he reached up for the bars and cried out.

"Oh, my God, what in God's name am I going to do?"

Daddy also told me, when I visited him in prison, that the cards were stacked against him. He had heard the judge and DA were members of the Klan, but he had no way of proving it. It was the judge's grandson, Larry Gene, the DA's boy, Douglas Neal and some other boy by the name of John Allen that brought the girl to the woods that day. But, Daddy didn't see them kill her. I wanted to tell everything he had told me so bad to help set Daddy free, but he made me swear not to tell anyone, not even Mama. I always respected him. I told him I loved him and I wouldn't tell a soul. He told me that no matter what happened to take care of Mama. As I cried, I kissed him and hugged him tight because I knew it wouldn't be good.

The days passed and the day of Daddy's trial finally came. The courthouse was filled to the brim. They had moved the trial to the county seat in Tupelo. People came from miles around; they were even standing along the walls of the courtroom. Daddy and his lawyer, Jimmy Bennett, sat at the table to the right and the DA, Douglas Martin, sat at the table to the left. Mama and I sat in the courtroom and nervously waited for the trial to start. Finally, the bailiff entered the courtroom.

"All rise," he stated, "Honorable JB Clark presiding. Hear ye, hear ye the state of Mississippi vs. Jeremiah Williams is now in session, docket #7325421-0. You may be seated; please remove all hats."

As the lawyers went forth to the judge's bench he talked to them both. We don't have any idea what was said. But when they returned to their seats, the DA opened the trial with his opening remarks.

"Ladies and Gentleman of the jury, we have here before us Jeremiah Williams. He is on trial for the brutal murder of Billie Duncan, a young girl who had her whole life before her. We have evidence that her life was ended too soon by the hands of Mr. Williams. She was a pretty girl and well liked. She is greatly missed by her family and friends, she was so much like our own daughters; she was full of life and vigor. She had the world at her fingertips. Her life was suddenly cut short by the hands of a sick man, Mr. Williams. Jeremiah, who claims to be innocent, was seen by an eyewitness running from the murder scene. Not only that but the police found his pocket watch only inches from her body, an engraved pocket watch with his daughter's name on it and inscribed with To Daddy with love, Butterfly. My job is to present you with the facts and evidence of this case. I hope that you will agree without a doubt that Jeremiah Williams is guilty of aggravated second degree murder. I only ask that when you have heard all the evidence that you will show no mercy on him, just like he showed no mercy on Miss Billie Duncan. Oh, yeah, I failed to mention Miss Duncan's head was bashed in and her throat was cut which was the cause of death. Thank you, jurors, for your time."

Mr. Bennett stood and went before the jury for his opening remarks. You could tell he was nervous and it appeared he hadn't done this too many times.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client, Jeremiah Williams, is a good and decent man. He has lived around here all of his life and has never been in trouble with the law before. So, why on earth would he do it now? Well, he wouldn't and he didn't because he is not guilty of the charges that are set before him. Yes, Mr. Williams was in the woods that day; he was hunting ginseng, not murdering Billie Duncan. Yes, his watch was found but we all have lost things before. Yes, it was a Christmas present from his daughter, it's no denying that. But, I do not agree that he murdered Billie Duncan just because his watch was found near her body. Like I say, such as the watch, time will tell as we get to the bottom of this case. The truth is that Jeremiah Williams is not guilty and should go back home with his family. Everyone has doubted his plea of not guilty. But, I appear before you, jurors, to study the evidence of this case with an open mind so that the truth will come forth and be revealed. Then Mr. Williams and his family can go home, put this tragic event behind them and hopefully return to their normal life while the real killer or killers is found and brought to justice. Surely, the right thing can be done here in this courtroom today. Thank you."

"Is the prosecution ready to call its first witness?" asked the judge.

"Yes, your Honor, I am," replied the DA. "But first I would like to present evidence A-1, the blood splattered pocket watch of Jeremiah Williams, to the court. The hawkbill pocket knife, the murder weapon, and the rock were never found. Now, your Honor, I call Jimmy Duncan to the stand."

(He was sworn in).

"Mr. Duncan, what relationship are you to Billie Duncan?" asked the DA.

"I'm her father," he replied.

"Now, Mr. Duncan on the day Billie's body was found (Friday I believe), did you see her that day?" the DA asked.

"No, sir," he replied. "I left that morning before she got up and she didn't come home that night."

"Did you know where she was?" asked Mr. Martin.

"No, sir, not really," he replied. "But it was unusual for Billie. She always let me know what she was doing and where she was going, except that day."

"You and Billie moved here not long ago," the DA stated, "after your wife died."

"I object," said the defense. "Mr. Martin is fishing and I don't know where he's leading the witness."

"Objection overruled," replied the judge. "Make your point, counselor."

"Your Honor, I am trying to establish that Billie Duncan was a good girl, well liked and from a good family background who fell prey to an animal."

"I object," cried the defense. "He is summing up my client with his own opinion."

"Objection overruled," replied Judge Clark.

"No further questions, your Honor," said the DA.

"You can cross examine, Mr. Bennett."

"I have no questions for Mr. Duncan. But, for what it's worth, I do believe Billie was a good girl, Mr. Duncan," he said. "That's all, your Honor."

"Prosecution, you may call your next witness."

"I call Officer Wendell Gray."

(He was sworn in.)

"Now, Officer Gray on the night in question, did you go to Mr. Williams' home?" asked the DA.

"Yes, we did," he said.

"What did you find?" the DA probed.

"Well, when we arrived Mr. Williams was not at home. We talked with his wife and daughter," he stated. "But, they didn't know where he was," he said.

"Did Mr. Williams finally show up?" asked the DA.

"Yes, sir," replied the officer. "When we asked him where he had been he said he had taken a walk because he couldn't sleep."

"And what time was that?" questioned the DA.

"About 11:30 p.m.," replied the officer.

"Was there anything unusual about him?" asked the DA.

"Yes, sir, he had mud on his pants and shoes and the bottom of his pants were wet," answered Officer Gray.

"I object," yelled Mr. Bennett. "The DA is calling for a conclusion."

"Objection sustained," replied the judge. "Mr. Martin, rephrase your question."

"Was it raining that night or had it rained earlier in the day?" the DA asked.

"I object!" shouted Mr. Bennett.

"No further questions," replied the DA.

"You may cross examine, Mr. Bennett," said the judge.

"Officer Gray, you said you saw mud and water on Mr. Williams' clothes and shoes," stated Mr. Bennett. "Did you see any blood on him?"

"No, sir," replied the officer.

"If my client had raped and murdered Ms. Duncan, don't you think there would have been some traces of blood somewhere?" Bennett questioned.

"Yes, sir, I guess," the officer replied.

"One other question for you Officer Gray, you said that Mr. Williams had no blood on him. Yet, there was blood on his pocket watch. My theory is Mr. Williams lost his watch when he was ginseng hunting down by the creek. The watch was splattered with Ms. Duncan's blood when she was killed, not by my client, but by someone else."

"I object," cried the DA. "He's leading the witness."

"Objection sustained," replied Judge Clark. "Be careful, counselor, don't put words in his mouth."

"No further questions at this time," said Mr. Bennett. "But, if needed, I may call him back for further questioning."

The trial went on and on, as each lawyer called their witnesses. Finally, the judge called for a recess. We got a short break for lunch but it was hard to relax. I saw Daddy as he was getting up; I blew him a kiss. I think it cheered him up because a slight smile came across his face. He looked so alone and abandoned during the trial. I could tell he had all that he could bare at the time. Mama and I tried to be strong for him, but sometimes the burden seemed more than we could bear. After lunch, around one o'clock, the court reconvened.

The DA's first witness after recess was one of the coon hunters. There was no need to call the other coon hunters because all their stories had been collaborated. And that was that they had come up on the girl's body at the creek, where they were running their dogs. I didn't I know the coon hunters and the three boys were the same people. Larry Gene, the judge's grandson, Douglas Neal, the DA's son and John Allen, a close friend. It was John Allen who made the anonymous tip. He reported that he saw Daddy running from the woods about 8:15 that morning. The DA called John Allen to the stand.

(He was sworn in.)

"That morning when you were coming down the road, you said you saw Jeremiah Williams running out of the woods toward his house," said the DA.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "He was getting it."

"Did you see anyone else with him?" asked the DA.

"No, sir," answered John Allen.

"About how far was it from where you saw Jeremiah running out of the woods to where you found the body?" asked the DA.

"It wasn't far; I would say only a few feet," he answered.

"Objection, your Honor, Mr. Allen is no expert on this matter, it is all speculation," cried Mr. Bennett.

"Objection sustained," replied Judge Clark. "Have that last remark stricken from the records."

"No more questions, your Honor," said the DA.

"You may cross examine, counselor," instructed the judge.

"I have no questions," replied Mr. Bennett. "But, your Honor, I'd like to call Sheriff Roger Long to the stand. He is my only character witness."

(He was sworn in.)

"Sheriff Long, you deal with all kinds of people in your line of business," stated Mr. Bennett.

"Yes, I do," he replied.

"From the best of your ability and your experience dealing with criminals, off the record, how does Jeremiah Williams appear to you?" asked Mr. Bennett.

"I don't believe he would be capable of committing such a crime," he stated. "However, I do believe he knows more than he's telling."

"I object," shouted the DA. "First of all Sheriff Long is not a criminal psychiatrist. He is speculating the ability of Mr. Williams which is his opinion. If I'm not mistaken, he has been friends with Mr. Williams for years."

"Objection sustained," said the judge. "Sheriff Long is only a character witness and he is friends with Mr. Williams. Let the record show that Sheriff Long is only a character witness, not a professional witness. You may go on, Mr. Bennett."

"That's all I have, your Honor," responded Mr. Bennett.

"Do you have any questions for Sheriff Long?" the judge asked the DA.

"Just one," replied the DA. "With your experience, Sheriff Long, in the criminal field, have you ever been wrong about a person?"

"Yes, I have but...," he replied.

"It is a yes or no question," stated the DA. "Answer one or the other."

"Yes...I...," he replied.

"No further questions, your Honor. The prosecution rests."

The trial went on for three days and at the end of the third day, the jury went out to deliberate. During the trial, Mama had become sick and was bedridden. I tried to take care of her and support Daddy at the trial. But, it was hard. During the trial, I watched the juror's faces as the lawyers presented their cases and so did Daddy. I often wondered what was going through their minds. What they would believe was my million dollar question. Mr. Bennett did a lot better job than I thought he would. It only took the jury an hour and a half to reach the verdict. That definitely was not a good sign. When the jury came back into the courtroom, I felt a cold chill from within me. I expected the worse and it was. The jury foreman stood, along with Daddy and his lawyer as the verdict was read. Daddy was found guilty of aggravated murder in the second degree. My heart stopped and my eyes filled with tears as I screamed out for Daddy. He turned toward me but the court officer grabbed him by the arm and led him back to the jail. My legs trembled and my hands shook as my heart cried out oh, my God, why. God didn't answer; I was dumbfounded. All I could hear was the sound of the courtroom doors swinging as the people left. Daddy's fate rested in the hands of twelve jurors, eight men and four women, all white; two of them were members of the KKK. It would be several years later when I learned that Daddy's guilty verdict hinged on the sway of two votes.

Two weeks later, I saw Daddy again at his sentencing hearing. The judge gave him twenty-five to thirty years for aggravated second degree murder. He would be eligible for parole in twenty years.

After Daddy went to prison, it turned him hard toward life. He let it eat at him; it almost destroyed him. I knew in my heart Daddy was innocent and I was determined that I was going to clear his name, regardless of what it would take. I hired Mr. Bennett to help me clear my Daddy's name. But, he wouldn't take any money. He, too, believed Daddy was innocent. He could only work on it in his spare time, but he said he would find out the truth.

Mama's health was failing; each day she went down more and more. She could never let go of what happened to Daddy. In a way, she just gave up; she didn't want to live without Daddy. I'll never forget the day she died. I had just picked some beans from the garden and I was out on the front porch breaking them when Auntie Mae screamed out for me. It was a blood curdling cry. Auntie Mae was Daddy's sister; she had come to live with us to help take care of Mama. I dropped the beans and ran into the house. Mama was gone; she had taken her last breath. She lay so still and peaceful. I began to cry, but I knew she was better off; Auntie Mae came over and held me in her arms in what seemed like forever. She comforted me and repeatedly told me that Mama was at peace and resting now. That she was in God's hands. I'll always remember the summer of 1956 when Mama died.

Auntie Mae and I got in touch with Daddy; he took Mama's death hard. He was filled with so much anger and hatred that he couldn't let go of his tears. After Mama's burial, I went to live with Auntie Mae.

I went as often as I could to visit Daddy. We were always glad to see each other. We talked about a little bit of everything, especially what had happened. Daddy had been in the hole several times. They tried to break him, but they couldn't. In 1951, Daddy finally decided to come forth with the truth.

Mr. Bennett worked on Daddy's appeal, but it was a slow process. Every time he presented Daddy's appeal before the Board of Appeals, he was always turned down by some technicality. It was like they were holding him there to keep the truth from coming out. He even tried to make a motion for a new trial, but it was denied. When the word got out that Daddy was ready to talk it opened up a can of worms and also cost him his life. In 1958, Daddy was killed in a fight in the laundry room. Two men jumped him and stabbed him several times. Rumor had it that the KKK set it up for him to be killed, to keep their secrets hidden. But, they didn't know Daddy had told me a little about what he had seen that day at the creek when I visited him. Unfortunately, I didn't believe it was enough to be concrete. I told Mr. Bennett everything Daddy had told me and he got to work on it immediately.

It would be two more years after Daddy's death when we got the big break we so longingly hoped for. John Allen, one of the three boys at the creek that day, came to me and Mr. Bennett with the truth of what had happened the day Billie Duncan was killed. He told us that he couldn't live with the murder and lies anymore. He let us know that it was Larry Gene, Douglas Neal and him that killed Billie Duncan. Daddy was at the creek when they were coming through the woods. He took off running when he saw them and Billie was still alive when he left. Larry Gene and Douglas Neal were young members of the KKK. Their daddies, Judge Clark and the DA, Mr. Martin, were high officials in the KKK at the time and took care of them. Even two of the jurors were members. Daddy never stood a chance. I had heard earlier, before the trial, that the KKK sent threats to Daddy threatening to harm me and Mama. I didn't know for sure, at the time, if it was true or not. But, John Allen's statement verified that it was so. After we met with John Allen, Mr. Bennett contacted the authorities and an APB was put out for Larry Gene and Douglas Neal.

With the new evidence, Mr. Bennett went to Jimmy Duncan, Billie's dad, and explained exactly what had happened. Jimmy was relieved to finally know the truth and have some peace. He apologized to Mr. Bennett and me. He and Mr. Bennett had been friends for years until he represented Daddy at the murder trial. He held it against him for representing Daddy. But, at last they were friends again.

It was early one morning in 1960 when Mr. Bennett was getting ready to leave to go to the state attorney office in Jackson. When he got into his car and turned the key, it blew up; it killed him instantly. When Mr. Duncan heard the news, he knew what had happened. Luckily, Mr. Bennett had given me a copy of all the paperwork on the case just in case something happened to him. After Mr. Bennett's death, Mr. Duncan told me that Mr. Bennett had been receiving threats every since the day he took Daddy's case. Mr. Duncan and I rode up to Jackson where the NAACP had an office. We went to them with Mr. Bennett's file on the case and filled them in on everything we knew for sure. In a matter of hours, the NAACP had taken action. John Allen was already in custody and they saw that Larry Gene and Douglas Neal were brought in.

The new trial for the murder of Billie Duncan was held in Jackson, Mississippi at the State Building. In 1961, Larry Gene, Douglas Neal and John Allen were found guilty of aggravated first degree murder, kidnapping and rape. Larry Gene and Douglas Neal received the death penalty and John Allen, by coming forth with the truth, received life without parole. Larry Gene was executed in 1963 and Douglas Neal was scheduled for execution in 1964. The bombing of Mr. Bennett's car went unanswered. The two men who killed Daddy were transferred to another facility and were later found dead; their deaths were ruled accidental.

***

Two years later, after Butterfly cleared her Daddy's name she died peacefully in her sleep. She was laid her to rest beside her Daddy and Mama in a small graveyard in Sycamore Creek, Mississippi. Mr. Duncan took care of the arrangements and the following inscription was engraved on her marker.

Kathleen "Butterfly" Williams

1936-1965

The proud daughter of Jeremiah Williams

Mr. Duncan visited the graveyard often and brought flowers.

*****

Discover other titles by Bobby A. Troutt at Smashwords.com

Beyond the Truth

A Cry in the Wind

Thistles and Thorns

Dead Limbs and Leaves

Troubled Waters

When Autumn Falls

When Time Was

Bittersweet
