Drama in the Church Saga (32 page)

“My name is Rosa. I'll be your server for the evening.” She led them to a table and placed their menus down.

“If you don't mind I'll order for the both of us,” Colin politely requested permission from Danyelle before proceeding. She agreed, and without hesitation Colin ordered them Spanish entrées.

This was Danyelle's first time at a Latino restaurant. Vibrant colors brightened the dining area. Miniature Puerto Rican flags sat on every table, and Latin music playing from the radio filled the air.

“The way you accurately pronounced those Spanish meals, I assume you speak Spanish fluently?” Danyelle snapped her fingers to the beat.

“Yes, I used to live in Spain for two years.”

“Rev, it seems like you've done so much to be so young. You haven't lived in Philly long. What brings you to the city of brotherly love?”

“I'm searching for my mother. My parents divorced when I was still an infant, and when my father walked out on my mom she also walked out on me. My grandma raised me, but after she passed away two years ago, I figured it was time I try and find my mom.”

“Does she live in Philly?”

“I'm pretty sure she does, but the trail has gone cold.”

“Don't give up. God will place her in your path when you least expect it,” Danyelle replied.

“That's what I like about you. You have unshakable faith.” Colin found something special in Danyelle that most men couldn't appreciate. The day Reverend Simms introduced them he was immediately taken by her enthusiasm for Christ. The way she worked with the youth was endearing, and the passion in her voice put him under a spell.

He wasn't sure what had gotten into him, but a few times he had to scold himself for watching her hips shake from side to side as she walked down the center aisle during Sunday service.

Rosa returned with their meals. Danyelle looked from his plate to hers. Their meals were identical.

“I thought I would order you something simple for your first time.” Colin blessed the food, and they dug in.

Right away, Danyelle tasted how spicy and full of flavor her meal was. The rice, beans and meat were filling.

“Are you enjoying the meal?” Colin asked after he saw her plate was half empty.

“It's delicious.” Danyelle pushed another mouthful of beans in her mouth.

The table was silent as they ate, and afterwards Rosa came around to clear the table. “Would you like dessert?” she offered.

Danyelle declined, while Colin ordered a cup of coffee.

After Rosa left their table, the proprietor of the place began moving chairs and tables out of the way to open up the small dance floor. On Friday and Saturday nights the restaurant turned into a small nightclub. They sat long enough to watch a band set up, and soon that conga sound entered Colin's body and stirred his soul.

He snapped his fingers and bounced his shoulders to the beat. “Can you salsa?”

“There's not much I can't do,” she got up and shook her hips seductively.

Colin smiled broadly as he took her hand in his. “Would you care to dance?”

Danyelle was never one to turn down a challenge, but she had never done the salsa in her life. The two joined several other couples already on the dance floor.

Colin gripped Danyelle's hand tightly and spun her out until she was arm's length away from him. She felt a bit out of place in the midst of seasoned dancers, who obviously knew what they were doing. This music wasn't like the hip-hop music she kept in her car's sound system.

She stood for a moment and watched the reverend move like a well-trained dancer, until he noticed her watching him.

Placing his hands around her waist, he pulled her close to him and this was where their love affair started. He led her in a simple two-step, until the music spoke to her heart through the sounds of each instrument.

Each beat of the drum drew a pattern for their footsteps to follow. The beat was fast, and they worked up a sweat as the music hypnotized every movement of their body. With every backward step taken by Colin, Danyelle would step in.

For thirty minutes they danced like professionals. Then Danyelle's footsteps started to get sluggish. Colin could see she was tired. Salsa dancing could be exhausting. He spun her around once. Twice. Three times. Then he called it quits.

Colin dragged Danyelle off the dance floor and back to their table. He gathered their things, tipped the waitress and they departed the restaurant together.

“That was fun.” Danyelle danced in her seat. “I enjoyed myself. Thanks for the treat. If I didn't go out with you, I would probably be at home studying.”

“No problem. It's good to get out of your usual routine and do something a little different every once in a while.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I haven't done that in a long time.” He laughed to himself. “You didn't do so bad yourself. I was kind of worried when I saw you standing their watching everyone else, but you did better than I did my first time.” She smiled.

“Would you like to do it again sometime?”

This time Danyelle's heart dropped. She couldn't believe the reverend was asking her out on another date. “Okay, Colin, what's up with you? In your office you kept looking at me with those sexy bedroom eyes and then you ask me out to dinner. Now you want to see me again? What is going on? You don't have enough women chasing you around church?”

He was shocked at how confrontational she was. “I like you and I want to get to know you better.”

Colin pulled his car next to Danyelle's in the church parking lot.

“Okay, I'll go out with you again, but don't think I'm easy.”

He laughed. “I never thought that.”

“Because, I'll probably be the hardest woman you ever worked for.” Those were her final words before she got out of the car.

“I never doubted it for a second.” Colin watched her get in her car and pull off.

The steel door slammed shut. “West, get up.” Still in a comatose state, Judge West lifted his head up off the table before closing his eyes and falling back off to sleep.

“Old man, you have to get up.” Instead of sitting in one of the other chairs in the room, the federal agent sat on the edge of the table. “Sorry, I'm late. I was in a meeting.”

“They brought me down here three hours ago,” the judge mumbled.

“West, it's not like you have anywhere to be. I thought you would be happy to get out of that cell for a while.”

The judge replied with a sarcastic smirk. “How long am I going to have to stay cooped up in this miserable jail? I thought being in federal custody meant I would be living the good life. For weeks, I've been in solitary confinement. If you didn't know it or not, total isolation is enough to make a man go insane.”

“I'm fully aware of that. That's why we have it.” The cocky agent winked his eye. “But that's not why we have you in exile from the other inmates.”

“Can I make at least one phone call? I've had not one visit.”

“That's what protective custody means—No contact with the outside world. We're trying to protect you.” He slammed a file folder down on the table. “Listen, if you want to leave, I can call a guard and you'll be released within the hour, but if you leave, I can no longer guarantee the safety of you or your family.”

Judge West knew the man was serious. He released an aggravating moan and grabbed at his hair. “How did they find me?”

“I'm not sure, but the important thing is that we got to you before they did. Somebody must have tipped them off that we were bugging their offices, because they started feeding us false information to take us off their trail. They pointed the finger at you for most of the crimes we're trying to tie them to, in particular, the murder of that little boy.”

“You must have a mole inside your organization.”

“Yes, but that's why we have to be careful of who we talk to. Only the highest-ranking officials in the FBI have access to your case. We have hundreds of agents who don't know the real truth.” The agent saw the leery look in West's eyes. “You don't have to worry. The FBI has conducted a comprehensive look into my background. I'm clean.”

“Since I've worked with the FBI before, I'm fully aware of the fact that they will only tell me information on an as-needed basis.”

“You're right about that.” The agent laughed.

“Well, what can you tell me?”

“The brotherhood is fully convinced that you're going to be prosecuted. We leaked incriminating evidence to the press, and if you were to go before a jury they would definitely send you to the chair.”

West did a gesture with his hands for him to continue.

“We plan to release you as soon as we get enough evidence to prove that they were the ones responsible for that kid's murder in nineteen sixty-one.”

West sighed. “After all this is over, am I going to be able to return to the life I had before?”

The agent looked at him and solemnly replied, “Let's hope so.” He pulled a letter from the folder and handed it to West. “This came for you sometime last week.”

Judge West stared at it a moment before snatching it out of the agent's hand. He glanced at the return address. The envelope looked like it had gone through Baghdad before coming to him. It was torn, taped, and the corners were worn. He knew the letter had probably been examined by practically every government agency. “You know once you find out my mail isn't a bomb or death threat from the brotherhood you should give me a chance to read it first.”

“West, you know we have to take the necessary precautions to keep you safe.”

Judge West skimmed through the letter and threw it back on the table.

“Your grandson said he found out something about your past.”

“He couldn't have found out anything to be overly concerned about.” Judge West was sure Dean was overreacting.

“I'm not so sure about that. The guy has been up here every day for the past week trying to see you. He knows something.” The agent pushed the file folder toward him. “That's what this meeting is about. In this folder we typed up explanation scenarios for you to read through. Once you talk to your grandson, you feed him one of the stories we provided. You may have to add your own spin to make it sound believable, but it's the best we could do.”

“So, you want me to tell him a bunch of lies?”

“It's not lies. We just altered the truth.”

West rolled his eyes.

“Like I told you before, this is for his safety as well as yours.”

“We've set up a special room just for your visit with your grandson. The room is tapped. Everything you say will be monitored.” The agent got up and walked toward the door. “Read through the material. I'll tell the guard to give you some time alone in here before taking you back to your cell. It's going to take you a while to read through that.”

The door slammed shut again, and Ernest pulled the contents out of the folder and began reading.

 

 

Dean sat in the county jail visiting room in a dazed state of mind. It was hard for him to clear his mind of the picture he'd found in his grandpa's attic. He studied it from every angle, praying that his eyes were somehow deceiving him.

Before leaving the house, Dean dropped to his knees in prayer. He had to see his grandpa, and only a miracle worker could make that happen. Each time he tried on his own he was turned away, but today he received a pleasant surprise. When he requested to visit with Ernie West, the gates were opened and he was allowed entry.

Dean checked his watch three times. He wondered how much longer it would be before his grandpa arrived. Suddenly, the lock outside the room turned and the door swung open. Judge West entered the room wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and shackles that bound his hands and feet. His prison escort pushed him over to the table across from Dean. Then the guard securely handcuffed his feet to the floor and hands to the table.

Dean stared in astonishment. He could not believe how prison life had changed his grandpa for the worse. The man who stood before him was a stranger. He had dropped ten pounds, his skin was a ghastly white, and his hair had grown so long that strands reached his shoulder.

This wasn't the same man Dean idolized as a child. The Judge West he knew stood up to injustice, but the man who sat before him had accepted defeat and was now a coward.

“How are you doing?”

The judge grunted in response, and silence planted itself at their table.

Dean kept trying to make eye contact with his grandpa, but he refused to look in Dean's direction. “If a man avoids looking you in the eye, that means he can't be trusted.”

Judge West glared at his grandson.

“That was one of those precious jewels you preached to me as a kid. You promised it would be beneficial to me when I became an adult.” Dean cleared his throat. “We'll, I'm an adult now.”

Although Dean was talking to his grandfather in a stern, cold manner he could see how humiliating this was for his grandpa. Dean didn't want to waste any more time. He pulled the picture out his coat pocket, laid it on the table and pushed it in front of his grandpa. “When you were arrested I told myself that it had to be a mistake, that you would never do any of the things that they were accusing you of, but this picture proves otherwise.”

The judge lowered his eyes. He wasn't ready to face the truth. It was hard to see his past stare back at him. Judge West picked up the photo and moved it closer to his face. He was immediately taken back in time to the day the picture was taken.

“I thought I knew who you really were, but this photo paints a different picture. Do you know what I see when I look at this sickening picture?” Dean was angry.

“I . . . I . . .” Judge West's voice cracked, and he put his head down momentarily to regain his composure. “I never wanted you to find out this way. I'd give my life to protect you from the truth.”

“What is the truth?” Dean pounded his fist against the table.

The urge to confess everything was strong, but if he deviated from the script a horde of federal agents would burst in and cut his visit short. Then they probably wouldn't allow him to have any more while he was in lock up.

“The truth is, at one point in my life I was an active member of the Ku Klux Klan.”

Dean shut his eyes to block out his grandpa's upsetting words. “Why?” Dean shook his head, as if to dispel the thoughts from his head.

“I know it's hard to understand, but I was raised in a house that lived and breathed hatred. Both my parents were card-carrying members of the brotherhood. My grandfather was a high-ranking official in the Klan, and my great-great-granddaddy owned at least forty slaves on his plantation. That's the kind of ancestry I inherited from my family.”

For the first time in his life Judge West saw disappointment in Dean's eyes.

“From the moment I learned to read, I was forced to study books that depicted whites as the superior race. It consumed my life. Wherever I went, white purity and segregation was preached. ‘Don't allow the coloreds to move next door to you, or your property value will fall. Don't allow those Negro children in our schools or your children will turn out dumb just like them.' It went on and on.”

“What about the kid you're accused of murdering?”

Repulsed by the sight of that picture, the judge flipped it over face down on the table. “I told you I was brainwashed. I believed I was doing the Lord's work.”

“That included killing an innocent kid?” Dean jumped up and kicked his chair across the room. It crashed loudly against the wall. He paced the room hysterically, repeatedly slamming his fist into his bare hands. “I don't know you at all,” he shouted. “I've been living with a liar my entire life.”

“Dean, I understand you're upset, but I won't allow you to continue disrespecting me. I'm still your grandfather.”

“Please! Don't talk to me about respect when you're chained to the table,” Dean yelled from across the room.

“Please,” his grandpa begged him. “Hear me out?”

Dean wasn't sure if was ready to hear any more. It took him a moment to get control of his feelings. Eventually he picked his chair up from off the floor and sat back at the table.

“Every member initiated that enters the brotherhood must take an oath of secrecy. I vowed to never divulge any information that could harm myself, the order or any members in the brotherhood. That night I accepted a lifetime membership into one of America's most powerful circles. The Grand Wizard made it clear. The only way out was by death.

“When hate simmers it fuels anger, and when you least expect it, that anger will boil over and lash out at the first person you see. That's what happened the night that kid died. They pumped so much hate into me that for me to take that young boy's life meant nothing.”

The judge could tell Dean believed every word of his story. He wished he could tell him the real story. “A few days after the”—West chose his words carefully—“incident, pandemonium broke out throughout town. Racial tension was high. Everyone wanted to know who killed that kid. The mayor and governor were under a lot of pressure from the White House to place someone under arrest.

“I steered clear from a lot of my friends for the next few days, then before I knew it, a man I had never met before confessed to the killing and his trial started shortly thereafter. I could not figure out why that guy would admit to a murder that could send him to jail for life. During the trial, I sat in the back of the courtroom thinking it could've been me sitting before a judge and jury.

“I will never forget the prosecution's closing remarks. He called that man names like Satan and the Prince of Darkness. He described the killing as cruel and vile and said that no respectable human being could commit such an act. The prosecutor's words convicted me. The more he talked, the more I felt like he was peeling away layers of who I really was. For the first time in my life I felt unworthy. I didn't even think I deserved to live among society any longer. I thought the brotherhood would revoke my membership and make me an outcast.

“An all-white jury found him guilty, but he was only sentenced to ten years probation. The coloreds were outraged he received such a light punishment, but there was nothing they could do about it.”

“Did you ever find out why that guy took the blame for you?” Dean eyes were full of curiosity.

Judge West nodded. “When I exited the courthouse I was surprised at the number of people who had descended upon the courthouse steps. Never in my life had I seen so many people assembled in one place before. It was amazing the crowds this case had attracted. I looked to the left and there were thousands of colored people holding up signs demanding justice, and to the right were the whites who wanted the murderer to go free. Straight down the middle, keeping the two groups separated, stood the National Guard in army fatigues, holding rifles in their hands. Ready to point and shoot.

“From the corner of my eye I spotted the Grand Wizard standing behind a pillar, quietly observing the crowd. This was the first time I had ever seen him not adorning that bright red satin robe. When I approached him I started to talk, but he stopped me with his hand. Then he pointed for me to listen. We watched the stylish, educated, and articulate prosecutor step up to the podium.

“I watched him carefully explain to the crowd that justice had been served that afternoon. He said, ‘The accused has been found guilty, and although his punishment may seem minimal, it isn't. The state of North Carolina is committed to protecting its people.'