Swift Justice: The Southern Way (5 page)

“I don’t think there’s going to be any lawyer that is going to drive over five hours from Austin to Dodge County to help a Negro.”

“Let’s give it a try,” said Leon.

“How?” asked Leon’s father. “I mean how do we go about doing it. It’s not like we have any phone numbers of any lawyers in Austin, let alone any that would actually help us.”

“Wait,” interrupted Tyrone. “I think there was some organization that advertised in our church bulletin. I think they were from the ACL something.”

“Who are they?” asked Leon.

“They’re a nationwide organization that helps out poor people including Negroes. I don’t think they charge for their services.”

“No way,” said James Brooks. “They must charge something or else they must not be very good.”

“Well, it’s worth a shot,” said Mr. Stevens.

“Okay, so how are we going to do it?” asked Leon.

“I’ll give them a call right now,” said Mr. Stevens.

“Now?” asked Leon. “It’s so early in the morning. No one is going to be there.”

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” said Mr. Stevens.

“Okay,” said Leon. “Let me call them.”

Mr. Stevens retrieved the church bulletin and led Leon to his phone. Leon dialed the number listed for the ACLU.

The phone rang for a long time, and Leon was ready to hang up until someone answered the phone.

“Hello, ACLU,” a person said.

“Hi, um … my name is Leon Brooks. I’m calling for the … AC … LU.”

“Yes, that’s us. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I got your phone number from a church bulletin here in Dodge County, and I may need some legal help. I was wanting to know exactly what services you provide.”

“Okay, my name is Howard Goldstein. I am an attorney for the ACLU. We are a charitable organization whose mission is the help people in need of legal help including minorities if they qualify.”

“What do you have to do to qualify?”

“Well, we listen to your situation, and we decide if you would qualify. We have limited resources, so we have to pick and choose which cases we want to take. It is subjective. What is your situation?”

“Um, is this conversation confidential? I mean I really don’t know who you really are.”

“I understand your concern, but, yes, this conversation is confidential. I don’t know if you heard of us, but we are a well-known, nation-wide firm. You sound like you are a Negro. Are you a Negro?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, we regularly help Negroes, but of course it depends on your case. Just tell me your case.”

“Okay.” Leon sighed not knowing where to begin. “Well, I was going to be hung tonight. Three white men kidnapped me, and they were going to hang me. They had me handcuffed with a noose around my neck ready to lift me up.”

“Oh,” Goldstein said.

“Yeah. Then, what happened was someone came by that was disguised and killed them all.”

“Whoa!” Goldstein paused. “What happened to you?”

“I was in handcuffs and leg cuffs. The person gave me the keys, and so I unhand cuffed myself. The person ran off. I walked back home or actually kind of ran back home.”

“When did this happen?”

“This happened last night, right around eleven o’clock, and then I finally made it home. I’m in a neighbor’s house calling you. And I’m not sure what to do. Is this something you’d be interested in?”

“Definitely”

“How much is it going to cost?”

“It’s not going to cost you anything. We’re going to do it for free. This is what we do. This is exactly the type of case we want.”

“Great, so what do I do?”

“That is an excellent question. I have to think about it. By the way, I’m sorry to hear what you’ve been through.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. I’m not use to white people being nice to me.”

“Well, I hope I can help you.” Goldstein paused for a couple of minutes.

“Mr. Goldstein, are you there?”

“Yes, I’m thinking.” Goldstein paused some more. “Okay, I have to ask you some more questions.”

“Okay.”

“Has anyone discovered the bodies yet?”

“I don’t think so, but the police are camped out at my house waiting for me.”

“Why?”

Leon spoke to his father. “Why did the police come to our house in the first place?”

“Well, I called them earlier in the night to report you missing and see if they would try to find you.”

Leon relayed the message to Goldstein.

“So the police knew that you were missing, and they probably also know the other guys are missing,” said Goldstein. “Is that right?”

“Yes, I believe so,” said Leon.

“Did you say you were from Dodge County?”

“Yes.”

“Oh no, isn’t that the hometown of Atwood Baker, the Chief Justice of the Texas Supreme Court?”

“Yes, it is.”

“He’s bad news. We think he is the head of the Klan for the whole state of Texas.”

“Really?”

“Yes. How are the cops down there? Can you tell if they work with the Klan?”

“Oh yes. We’re pretty sure that they are part of the Klan. They kind of try to pretend that they are not, but we can tell.”

“Hmmm. This is a difficult situation because the law doesn’t mean anything to them, but this is common.”

“Well, what should we do?” asked Leon.

Goldstein sighed. “I would have someone drive you over to the police station right away. Don’t go to your house. Go straight to the police station. Bring a few people with you, so you have witnesses and for your protection. Hopefully, you get there before they discover the bodies.”

“What do I do when I get there?”

“Tell them what happened. Tell them the truth. They’re not going to believe you, though. They’re going to probably arrest you, interrogate you, and rough you up.”

“Why am I turning myself in—to get roughed up?”

“I know it doesn’t sound good, but you will get roughed up no matter what you do. This way we can kind of control it.”

“How?”

“Well, first of all, make sure you let them know you have a lawyer from the ACLU on their way, and that the ACLU has notified the newspapers.”

“You’re going to drive down here?”

“Yes, I plan on leaving right after we end this call.”

“Your last name is Goldstein, right?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re Jewish?”

“Yes.”

“I hate to break the news to you, but the Klan almost hates Jews more than Negroes. They’ll lynch you just like they tried to lynch me.”

“I’m not coming down there empty handed. I’m bringing a state trooper down with me that I can trust.”

“He must be the only one in Texas.”

“There’s a few. Plus, I have contacts with the newspapers. I will have an Austin newspaper reporter down there later today, and I will contact some national outlets as well.”

“Okay, so what do I do when I get down to the police station again?”

“Again, tell them what happened. Don’t mention my name or that you have an attorney until they take you into custody. But once they do, tell them my name, Howard Goldstein, and that I’m from the ACLU and will be there later today. They won’t give a shit and won’t be impressed, but I suspect they won’t make any immediate moves until they meet to discuss their options.”

“Wow, you really know the Klan.”

“Yes, unfortunately, I have a lot of experience with them tormenting other Negroes in Texas.”

“What are they going to do with me?”

“They will want to hang you again.”

“Shit, I can’t go through that again.”

“That’s why it’s important that you put them on notice that you have an attorney. Despite their arrogance that they’ll display, they will be concerned that you have a Jew lawyer coming down from the ACLU, which they despise. They hate the ACLU, and we receive death threats daily.”

“Okay, so what are they going to do with me?”

“That is a good question.” Goldstein paused to think. “I suspect that they will arrest you and keep you in custody. Then, they will either charge you with the murders and put you up for trial, or release you until they can get more evidence.”

“Really?”

“Don’t get a false hope, though. You’re almost safer in jail then outside of jail. If they release you, they might plan to hang you again or retaliate some other way.”

“Man, you’re just a bundle of good news.”

“Hey, I’m just telling you like it is. But I would get to the police station right away.”

“Okay, I head over there right now. When do you think you will get here?”

“I expect to be there in about five hours. Be careful.”

“Hey, Mr. Goldstein, thank you so much.”

They ended the call, and Leon felt that he was getting ready to walk the plank off a ship.

~~~~

About a half an hour before sunrise, Ryan and Finley pulled up to relieve the Sheriff and Junior. The Sheriff had relented and agreed with his son to go to the approximate designated lynching spot. The Sheriff radioed in for Ryan and Finley to camp out at the house and wait for Leon to show up. A crowd of Negroes was forming on the street watching the police with curiosity and suspicion.

The Sheriff drove and parked off Route 12, just north of the lake. They sat there and discussed their strategy.

“Okay, Junior, before we go, I want to think about our strategy.”

“Okay, Dad. What are we going to do? What do you think we’re going to find out there?”

“I don’t know. Leon hasn’t shown up, which I think is a good sign, but then Lucky and his wrecking crew hasn’t showed up either. This is totally unlike them. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m hoping that, best case scenario, somehow Leon escaped, and they are searching for him down in the woods.”

“Yeah, but wouldn’t they just have kind of given up and went at it again. I mean if they failed, there’s nothing Leon could do. You know you’re the Sheriff and the Judge is the Justice of the Texas Supreme Court. Nothing would ever happen to Lucky.”

“I don’t know, Son. Lucky has never failed. If Leon escaped, Lucky would hunt him down all night until he found him.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“It’s going to be light in a little while, but let’s get our flashlights and head over to where I think the spot is and see what we find.”

They got out of the car and started hiking towards the woods.

“Regardless of what we find, we have to call Acton and the Judge and let them know what’s going on,” the Sheriff said. “Let’s keep our fingers cross and see what we find.”

~~~~

The sun had risen, and a few people were starting their commute to work. Mr. Stevens parked his old Chevy truck at the police station. The police station had about ten steps leading up to the front door.

On the way to the police station, Leon and his father picked up Leon’s two older brothers, Deron and Reggie. When Leon saw his brothers, he immediately hugged them. They never hugged before, so it was a little awkward. Leon didn’t care because he was so happy to see them considering that he was ready to die the previous night.

After Mr. Stevens parked the car, they all remained in the car to figure out their strategy.

Leon’s brothers were against the plan of having Leon go to the police.

Deron, the tallest of Leon’s brother, spoke, “Man, I don’t like this, bro. They’re going to kill you all over again. They’re going to blame you for the killings and string you up. Please, bro, don’t go.”

“Yeah, bro, don’t go, man,” said Reggie, Leon’s oldest brother at thirty-one years old.

“Look,” interrupted James Brooks, “the lawyer told us to go to the station. He’ll be here later today.”

Reggie snapped, “Yeah, Pops, you goin’ to trust a white lawyer. You think a white lawyer is going to drive down here to save a bunch of niggers?”

“Son, he’s from the ACLU. They help people like us.”

Leon spoke. “Y’all, we have no choice. I have to go in. No matter what I do, they will hunt me down. Our best chance is to come forward before they discover the bodies.”

“I don’t know, bro,” said Deron. “I don’t like it.”

They eventually got out of the car and walked up the stairs to the police station.

~~~~

They all walked in and immediately approached a long counter with Officer Sam Clark standing behind it. To the left of the counter, was a little door where the cops gained access to the back. To the right of the counter was a long hallway where the public bathrooms were located. Further down the hall was the entrance to the jail cells and the dreaded interrogation rooms.

Sam Clark was a short man with a large potbelly. He only had hair on the sides of his head, which he did not groom well.

Leon could barely breathe. He was so nervous and anxious. Leon heard rumors about the interrogation rooms, which the cops referred to as interview rooms. The police beat many black people in these rooms through the years. Leon heard that any black person that goes into the police station does not come out the same person—that’s if they ever come out.

Sam Clark stared at the black men in bewilderment, as black men didn’t usually voluntarily show up at the police station.

“Hello, what can I do for y’all?” asked Clark.

Leon stood in front of Clark. “Well, my name is Leon Brooks.”

“Leon Brooks,” Clark said with puzzlement. “A lot of people been looking for you, boy.” Clark paused. “I’m supposed to radio the Sheriff if we hear anything. So wait here while I call him on his car radio.”

Leon waited patiently. He didn’t like the sound of the Sheriff wanting to be called at the mention of Leon’s name. Things were not looking good.

Clark went to the desk that had the two-way radio and called for the Sheriff, but there was no answer. Clark returned to the men. “Okay, I can’t get a hold of him, but why y’all here?”

Leon was nervous and didn’t know how to begin. “Well, what happened tonight was that Lucky Bennett, John Favors, and Tom Jenkins—”

“Do you know where they’re at?” Clark interrupted.

“Yeah, I know where they’re at. They tried to hang my ass earlier tonight.”

“What?”

“Yeah, they tried to hang me.”

“So where are they?”

Leon felt like they were getting the plank ready for him.

“Well, let me finish.”

“Okay, boy, go ahead and finish,” Clark snapped back with a stern look.