Authors: Dorothy Phaire
After signing all the necessary paperwork, Miss Shepherd released sole custody of the minor child, Justin Johnson back to his mother and closed the John Doe abandoned baby case. Brenda thanked Mrs. Turner for taking such good care of her child. She thanked Dr. Renee for always supporting her, as well as, Miss Shepherd for waiving the requirement of the baby’s original birth certificate. Under the circumstances, the social worker agreed to let Brenda mail her a copy of Justin’s birth certificate after she received it from Vital Records in the next six weeks or so. The three joyful women assembled in Miss Shepherd’ office and gave each other departing hugs before they left. Brenda asked Dr. Renee if she wouldn’t mind dropping her at her mother’s house. She explained to Renee that she knew her mother had meant well this morning, she just went about it the wrong way. Renee knew that Brenda was right. While she didn’t want Brenda to leave her alone in that big house, she realized that Brenda needed to be with her own family, especially with the funeral looming ahead. Brenda strapped Justin in the car seat and sat in the back, cooing and playing with her son while Renee drove in silence to Irene Adams house on Primrose Street.
O
n Friday morning at 10 o’clock a long, black hearse stood stationed near the carved double doors of Nativity Catholic Church on Georgia Avenue. Inside the church Brenda Johnson with her family and the family members of the deceased took up the first two rows. Dr. Renee Hayes sat on the same side as Brenda, but in the last pew. Renee and Brenda’s eyes met briefly when Brenda turned around and glanced towards the main entrance. Both women smiled and nodded at each other. Brenda wore a stylish black, military-collared suit, tasteful black pumps, a black felt hat with a short mesh veil that did nothing to conceal her red, puffy eyes. Pearl posts were clamped to her ears and served as the only adornment to her outfit. Brenda sat between her father, Marvin Adams and her mother, Irene Adams. After having met Brenda’s mother, Renee was not surprised by Mrs. Adams’s brash wardrobe selection for the funeral. Unlike everyone else, Mrs. Adams stood out in a red Chanel suit, red hat, leather clutch purse, and red stiletto pumps. The rest of Brenda’s family sat directly behind her on the second row, a few cousins and an aunt who Renee had never met. She noticed Brenda’s two best girlfriends, Cha-Cha Taylor and Veda Simms, also seated nearby on the second row to console her. Jerome’s family claimed the first two pews on the opposite side of the sanctuary, his parents, grandmother, siblings, and more relatives.
Baby Justin slept peacefully as Brenda gently rocked him in her arms. Media attention had heightened around the arson/murder case. Watching Brenda from afar with her baby son cradled close to her breast, Renee knew that the recent stories being reported about her had to be lies. Renee was committed to doing everything in her power to prove them wrong. Just yesterday on yet another news headline, a station reported that Brenda Johnson had tried to file an insurance claim the day after her husband died in the fire. Renee hadn’t had a chance to talk to Brenda since she moved back home with her parents several days ago, but she didn’t believe a word of the negative press. To Renee the only explanation she could come up with was that someone must be out to destroy her trusted secretary. Fortunately, Deek still seemed to have an open mind about the case and she hoped that wouldn’t change. He confided to Renee the other day that his partner, Detective Melvin Bradford, the lead investigator, was being pressured by their superiors, the DA, and the public to make an arrest. Renee wished someone would come forward soon with new information leading to other suspects since time seemed to be running out for Brenda.
Renee spotted Deek sitting inconspicuously towards the rear of the church, but still several pews ahead of where she sat. He looked back and noticed her too, and gestured for her to come sit with him. Renee walked down the aisle, faced the altar and genuflected before easing in the spot next to him. She took in the spicy scent of his familiar cologne. Whenever they ran into each other the tension escalated. Being in church at a funeral didn’t seem to make a difference. To avoid being distracted by him, she read the program. The program couldn’t hold her interest because Deek looked as good as he smelled. Even at a funeral, he appeared ‘James Bond’ savvy in spit-shine, black loafers and trim, lightweight gray, woolen trousers that curved against his muscled legs. He wore a matching single-breasted jacket over a soft-striped shirt and woven silk, black-on-royal blue tie. Renee felt guilty getting turned on in a church but that was difficult not to do sitting so close to Deek.
Renee composed herself when she saw Father Emanuel, Brenda’s priest, lead the processional of pallbearers, carrying the closed casket up to the altar. The organist played a passionate and forceful Rachmaninoff concerto. If the mood wasn’t already somber, the music cast an even deeper gloom over the funeral service. Renee didn’t even know Brenda’s husband that well, but her eyes glazed and she dabbed at them frequently with her handkerchief. In accompaniment to the music, the robed priest chanted a sorrowful praise to the Lord. After the hymn, he knelt before a statue of the Virgin Mary and bowed his head in prayer. He held a string of rosary beads within his clasped hands. The priest stood up and turned around to face the mourners and those who had come to pay their last respects to the deceased. Father Emanuel had a full, round face, glittering, brown eyes and stock of dark curls laced with copper tints that fell over his ears and down his neck. When he spoke, his message sounded like a symphony of rhythmic intonations that Renee found soothing.
“We are not here today to mourn, but to celebrate life. Jerome Antonio Johnson was a devoted husband, father, son, and brother,” said Father Emanuel, his melodic voice echoing through the church. “Although he faced temptations from the snares of the secular world and made many mistakes, Brother Johnson repented. He was on the road to overcoming his obstacles with the support of his loving wife and her unwavering faith in our Lord.”
The priest looked down at Brenda momentarily before continuing. “Tragically cut off at only 28 years old in the prime of his season, some of you may be asking why does God allow such terrible things to happen? People ask these questions all the time. Why did God take this one? He or she was so dedicated to God. Children, it’s not God’s fault when people kill each other or hurt each other,” said the priest with emphasis and scanned the congregation with his dark, liquid eyes, “God gave Man free choice to decide to commit good deeds or the free choice to commit sin. These terrible things happen because of sin and evil in this materialistically driven, sinister world we live in today.”
He placed both hands on the podium while his gentle eyes swept over the mourners before him. “I see the sorrow in your faces and sense the heaviness in your hearts. Some of you seated before me may be asking yourselves something even more personal, like, ‘Does God really care about me? Why did God put me in this situation? Why did he let this happen to me?’ Yes, life’s blows will hurt for a while but God says ‘I am with you’. Don’t give up children. Don’t feel hopeless. You are never alone.”
Father Emanuel took a sip of water and continued. “God is about goodness and about bestowing blessings to his faithful servants. We may not understand his intentions but we must maintain faith because we never know the day or the hour when we’ll be called home,” he said. “My Sisters and my Brothers, don’t be afraid of death. It is as quick as closing your eyes and opening them back up again. When you open your eyes you are on the other side where there’s eternal peace. Have faith in Our Savior, Jesus Christ and you will be ready to pass over to the other side whenever your time comes.” Father Emanuel flipped open his bible and read the marked passage. “In Ecclesiastes 3:1, the Lord says, ‘For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die’
.”
“Life on Earth is short and we suffer many trials and tribulations along the way but there are also moments to be cherished. Think on all the precious moments you shared with Brother Johnson and keep the memory of your loved one alive.” He closed the Bible and performed other rituals at the altar that Renee did not pay much attention to. Instead, she reflected on what the priest had said.
The priest’s words had comforted her deeply. When he spoke she couldn’t help thinking about her own recent loss upon finding out her uterus bore no growing baby inside of her. Last week Dr. Eckbert had told her that the pregnancy would spontaneously abort itself within days since no fetus existed to sustain hormone levels. At sunrise that morning Renee woke up with cramping and light bleeding and knew it was all over. Another failure at motherhood. Just as Dr. Eckbert expected, nature took care of its own non-survivable mistake. But somehow she got through it. Not long ago she would have needed strong medication and denial to numb herself against feeling anything, but over the past several days she discovered she could take whatever life had to throw at her.
Renee knew she was growing emotionally stronger. Watching how Brenda maneuvered through her crisis and how she relied on faith to get her through hardships had opened up a door of understanding for Renee. Renee realized she still had much to learn about experiencing life and love, things that she had never learned before in her medical and psychiatric manuals. But at least she realized there was hope now that the door had been slightly cracked open. This cracked open door is what had allowed her to get up that morning, wash away her own sorrow and attend this funeral despite her own loss. She felt Deek squeeze her hand. When she turned teary-eyed to face him, he took the balled up handkerchief from her fist and gently dabbed each corner of her eyes. Renee hoped he would assume her tears were brought on by Father Emanuel’s touching words. She didn’t want him to think that she wasn’t emotionally stable enough to focus on the investigative work as a criminal profile consultant. In fact, helping Deek with the homicide case was exactly what she needed right now.
Renee looked out at the mourners to see if they too felt moved by the service. At that moment, she felt a strong awareness that she was being watched. Every so often a man seated a few rows in front of them and wearing a brown suit and a colorful orange and royal blue kinte cloth around his neck, surveyed the back pew and peered in her direction. Renee finally recognized him as the obnoxious customer from Good Looks beauty parlor but she couldn’t recall his name.
“I have to get out of here,” she whispered to Deek, “I passed a private office in the basement coming in this morning. Can we talk for a few minutes? I have something I want to show you.” Deek nodded and followed her out to the vestibule. There was intermittent sobbing coming from the deceased side of the church as they quietly exited the sanctuary.
Once outside in the vestibule, Renee and Deek descended a narrow stairway that led to the church basement, and they entered one of the unlocked counseling chambers. They sat down on a striped Chippendale sofa. Before he had a chance to ask what she wanted to talk about, Renee removed a folded clipping from that morning’s Washington Post Metro Section from her clutch purse and handed it to Deek. “Have you had a chance to read this morning’s paper yet?” she asked. “It’s nothing but lies about my secretary.”
He took the clipping and unfolded it. Then read the caption aloud.
Young Washington area mother suspected of arson and murder. Police suspect co-conspirator could also be involved.
Deek’s face didn’t register any surprise as he read the rest of the clipping in silence. Renee already knew exactly what it said, having read it several times earlier that morning in disbelief.
In the aftermath of Monday’s arson at a Southeast Capitol Hill rowhouse that left 28 year-old Jerome A. Johnson dead, the lead investigator on the case, Detective Melvin Bradford, says attention is now being focused on the victim’s wife, Brenda Adams Johnson. Mrs. Johnson is the sole beneficiary of a fifty thousand dollar life insurance policy on her husband’s death. After receiving an anonymous tip and questioning witnesses, police uncovered a hidden web of lies, infidelity, and drug abuse that could have sparked the domestic turmoil within the Johnson household that led to the crime on Monday afternoon. As yet, no formal charges have been filed. Investigators are awaiting lab results of physical evidence before making their move to arrest Mrs. Johnson on suspicion of murder, conspiracy to commit murder, arson and insurance fraud. The Johnson family maintains their daughter’s innocence and retained the nationally renowned criminal attorney, Mr. K. C. Bloodstone as their daughter’s legal counsel.
In a recent chilling discovery based on an unidentified caller’s tip, this was not the first time Mrs. Johnson has come under suspicion for murder and insurance fraud. Police later confirmed the informant’s claim by searching police records. Records reveal that nine years ago an unwed, 19 year-old Brenda Adams, now known as Johnson was charged with involuntary manslaughter in the death of her six-week old infant daughter. At that time Miss Adams collected a $15,000 death benefit on her infant’s life insurance policy that had been taken out on the very day of the child’s birth. However, due to lack of physical evidence to prosecute, the DA dropped the charges against Miss Adams (aka Mrs. Johnson) and marked the infant’s death accidental. Uncovering this new skeleton in Mrs. Johnson’s closet has shed further suspicion on her credibility.
“It doesn’t look good for Brenda,” said Deek, refolding the news clipping. He then handed it back to her. Renee gave him a pained expression without knowing what to say. Deek leaned back against the couch with his arms folded, apparently reflecting on his own private thoughts. She had hoped he could shed some light on where all these lies were coming from. But were they all lies, she asked herself. Could Brenda really be guilty, she thought. People were not always who they seemed to be. As a trained psychologist, she recognized the many faces of deceit. Brenda presented herself as a loving mother, devoted wife, and she called herself a Christian woman. But could she in fact be a cold-blooded killer motivated by money and greed? Renee decided that Brenda’s mother certainly came across as conniving, selfish, and greedy. But, what about her daughter? She wondered if the apple fell close to the tree in the case of mother and daughter. For a second she felt puzzled, but then her head cleared. No, there had to be another explanation.