white man, black boy,” said BJ.
“Maybe I am and maybe I ain’t. But, one thing for sure, I’m stupid enough to blow off kneecaps. Your choice, cracker.”
They heard a siren in the distance and saw a dust cloud as a patrol car raced down the dirt road. In a very short time, it pulled up and a large sheriff got out. He was White and had on a Smokey the Bear hat and mirror sunglasses. A big pistol was on his hip. A deputy, also White, got out of the passenger side holding a high powered rifle with a scope. He also had mirror sunglasses and his rifle was clearly trained on BJ. BJ couldn’t believe it. Who was the white man here?
The deputy spoke. “I got him, Luther. Uncock that blaster.”
The three Black men lowered their weapons but kept them in their hands.
The sheriff got on the radio and made sure the ambulance he’d called for was on its way. Afterward, he took his time lighting a cigarette. He inhaled deeply and finally spoke. “Well, well, well. Where you boys from?’
Luke, who during this whole process had wet himself, answered. “We’re from Biloxi, sir.”
“Shut up,” hissed BJ. “I’ll do the talking.”
“Well then,” said the sheriff, talking a drag off his cigarette, “you talk.”
“We was driving down this road, minding our own business, when we found these two along the side of the road. We was bringing them to town to help them.”
Shotgun spoke, “That’s a dang lie, sheriff. My Masie saw these crackers come along and hit Johnny in the head with that bat.”
BJ acted incensed. “You gonna believe me, or you gonna believe black boy there?”
“Well,” said the sheriff. “seeing as how you got a thirteen-year-old girl tied up in the back of your pickup, and that fool in there looking like he’s been having his way with her privates, I’m gonna believe the man I’ve known all my life.”
A woman had climbed in the bed and cradled the now conscious girl’s head in her lap. The sheriff walked over.
“Lucy, listen to me girl and tell me the truth. What happened?”
The girl had blood down the front of her from her bloody nose and began crying in relief when she saw the sheriff. Between the sobs, she said, “Me and Johnny were coming home from church. We heard a car behind us so walked on the side so we wouldn’t be in the way. When that truck passed, I heard a crack and saw Johnny fall down with his head bleeding. The truck stopped and these men got out. That one (pointing at BJ) raised that bat above his head and said, ‘Glory be. I got me a nigger.’ I tried to get Johnny up but he wouldn’t move. I knew he was hurt bad. They started coming at me so I ran. The little one in the here (pointing at Wallace) chased me down and hit me. He kept grabbing me in my private places and then dragged me back here. I was trying to get away so he (pointing again at BJ) hit me in my face. I don’t remember anything more until I woke up.”
BJ was incensed. “You gonna believe that little nigger, sheriff? Or you gonna believe three white men?”
The sheriff dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. He then walked over to BJ and took off his sunglasses. Looking directly into BJ’s eyes, he said, “Officer Dooley, if any one of these three fools moves, shoot ‘em all.”
“You got it sheriff.”
“Turn around, son. I’m going to cuff you up.”
BJ started screaming. “You gonna believe a bunch of niggers over me? What kind of county is….”
Before BJ could finish the sentence, the sheriff, with lightning speed, holstered his big pistol and put two inches of the barrel in BJ’s mouth. No white man had ever pointed a gun at him before.
“You’re allpowered right I am. I ain’t your normal redneck sheriff. I sorta think the law should apply the same to everybody. We don’t cotton to no outsiders coming in here and stirring up trouble. Now, you gonna cooperate? Or am I gonna bust your head open with this pistol like you did that boy’s? You decide.”
BJ held up his hands like he was surrendering and the sheriff reholstered his pistol. BJ turned around and the sheriff put on cuffs behind BJ’s back. “Get down on your belly there and wait for these other two.”
Hatred filled BJ’s eyes but he did as he was told. The sheriff did the same with Wallace and Luke. By that time the ambulance was heard in the distance. The sheriff turned to Shotgun, “Luther, you get these children to the hospital. I’ll take these crackers in and lock them up. All right?”
Shotgun looked at the sheriff. The intensity in his eyes was frightening but he finally let out a sigh and said, “All right, sheriff.”
The sheriff stepped toward Luther and said in a kind voice, “I know it’s hard. I promise you – I’ll take care of this.”
Luther nodded. “I know you will, sherrif.”
“Dooley, let’s take these fools in.”
The three were put in the back of the patrol car while the injured teenagers were put in the ambulance. When the patrol car rolled into the small town, the sheriff turned and spoke to them.
“You boys made a big mistake. I don’t stand for that kind of cracker hijinks in my county.”
BJ decided to keep his mouth shut. This sheriff was obviously a nigger lover. He looked at Wallace and saw he was scared. His one good eye was darting back and forth like a trapped animal and the strong smell of urine filled the car. Luke was crying.
There were already people standing around waiting to see who the sheriff arrested. The patrol car parked in front of the jail and Officer Dooley and the sheriff got out. The sheriff opened the door where BJ sat and Dooley opened the other one. The sheriff knew that if there was trouble, it was comming from BJ Walker.
When Dooley and the sheriff got the three men out of the patrol car, the sheriff led them through the door to the jailhouse. He put BJ in a cell by himself and Luke and Wallace in the other cell.
Dooley locked the doors with a key from a steel ring the circumference of a basketball and said, “You boys just cool your heels. We’ll get you something to eat in about an hour.”
BJ suddenly reached out for Dooley through the bars. Dooley stepped back and put his right hand on his pistol. “What do you think you’re doing, fool?”
“What are you doing taking sides against white men? What kind of a man are you?”
“I’m a man who does my job. And Sheriff Rawlins is right. Everybody in this county tries to get along. And we don’t need no trouble from redneck s like you. Ya’ll made a big mistake bringing that cracker garbage around here.”
Three days later, they were brought before a circuit judge. They each had handcuffs on as Dooley and Sheriff Rawlins led them in the court and made them remain standing until the judge told them to sit. There was a man in solid red pants and a red madras sports jacket seated at the table next to them. He had a white shirt and a wide bright red tie. He had Elvis Presley hair and a toothpick in his mouth.
“Morning, boys,” he said in a thick Mississippi accent. “I’m Holley Watkins, appointed by this here court to be your attorney. So, ya’ll just keep your mouths shut and let me do the talking.”
Before BJ could answer him, the bailiff said, “All rise for the honorable Judge Mason LaBrie of the seventh circuit court of the great state of Mississippi.” Mississippi was pronounced Miss-sipp.
The judge brought the gavel crashing down and yelled, “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Everyone in the court sat and the bailiff read the charges and said, “You three boys stand up.” The sheriff and Dooley stood up and pulled the three accused to their feet. Lawyer Watkins also stood, toothpick poised and hair in place.
The judge, a slender man with