Thread: Southern Sins (Kassy & Reaperlament)

That smoldering hot summer of '65 was turbulent all over the country but nothing compared to the tragic trail of events that started one June night in Tallahassee Florida. Racial tensions were rising as minorities across the US had had just about enough of the Sam Crow attitudes and bigotry that white America seemed to be unable to let go. It was this backward way to thinking that had so many Negros up in arms about the way they were being treated, and in turn made so many white folks nervous about what was to come. Little did anyone know what a watershed moment this season would bring and the repercussions that would rack the sleepy little southern town thereafter. James Lesner remembered it well, it was his first year on the Leon County Sheriff's department as a junior deputy. He'd graduated high school the year prior, a state champion running back for the Tallahassee Leatherbacks and prom king, Jimmy was the towns golden boy. His Uncle, Earl Lesner was the county's dully elected Sherriff for ten years running and ruled with an iron fist, which the conservative locals happen to adore. Uncle Earl had pulled some strings and got Jim a job in the department without any of the police training usually involved with such a career move. By all standards Jim had life by the 'short curlies', his own mobile home, quaint but not too unrefined, a jacked up pickup truck with a siren and light bar on the roof, which got him through any pesky traffic lights throughout the day and a high school sweetheart for a main squeeze that most the men in town were jealous of. Kassandra Kimble was the head cheerleader and probably the most privileged white girl in town. Her father was Aliester Kimble, Mayor and president of the elitist country club known as the 'Dapper Dandy'. Truth be told, Jim had out grown Kassy shortly after graduating high school but he was a southern gentleman and not a stupid man and so he kept his opinions about her spoiled demeanor to himself. It was a muggy Friday night that June that everything changed for him, he could still remember watching a thunderstorm crackle blue strobe over the lake when the call came over the radio. Jim had been posted on the corner of two dirt roads watching the parking lot of a dive bar called the Boar's nest as the patrons inside cranked country and western music till it shook the windows in their frames. He had no intention of arresting anyone inside as most of the inhabitants were good ol' boys from around town. This was more of a public service, if any of them got behind the wheel too drunk, he'd throw his lights on and pull them over, but not to issue any tickets or citations, instead offering to give them a lift home to insure they didn't kill anyone. It was 1221 am when the red light on his dash radio flashed green and the familiar voice of Deputy Hank Grimshaw spoke up. ' Jim....Jim you got your ears on?' Yeah, I'm here Hank, what cha got? Jim depressed button on the handset of his CB radio. 'I'm out here in the mangroves with your Uncle and we need a vehicle that'll pass the goatpaths out this this way. Your uncles cruiser isn't up to the task.' Hank replied, a certain nervous energy in his voice. Why's that? One of those swamprats out spotlighting gators again and get his toes bit off? Jim asked a slight chuckle escaping him. Nah Jim...I'm afraid it might be a bit more serious than that, you gonna wanna put on your flashers and get a move on...this looks pretty serious. Hank replied and Jim couldn't tell if it was interference from the coming storm or if Hank's voice was actually quaking. Alright hold yer horses, I'll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Jim replied, dropping his big pickup into gear and tearing off down the dirt road. The mangroves were pretty far out, not many folks lived out that way and the ones that did were either dirt poor swamprats, or colored folk. Not too much call for sheriffs in that neck of the woods and when they did have to respond to a call it was usally pretty trivial stuff. But the sound in Hank's voice had to make Jim wonder. The drive took close to thirty minutes but once he entered the mangroves it wasn't hard to find, not many roads out that way. His uncle's cruiser was parked infront of Hank's Mercury, both of them had their lights on and Jim could see the two men standing at the edge of the road, hands on their hips. He pulled up next to them and leaned out the window casually hanging his elbow out of the door frame. What's all the hub-bub boys? Wipe that damn grin off yer face Jimmy, We got a body in the swamp. Uncle Earl said, his face more serious than Jim had ever seen it. A body? What in tarnation? Who is it? Jim asked, all the color leaving his tan cheeks. Don't rightly know, it's a little girl though...or atleast it was. I got the call from the ol' man Turner about an hour ago. He said he was out spotting and saw her strung up in a tree. He said they strung her up by the neck like a common 'coon, if'n ya can believe that. Earl answered, his tone still deadly serious. A black girl? Jim asked. Nope a pretty lil' white girl...damnedest thing I ever saw. Hank answered, interrupting his superior officer, to which drew a disapproving look from Earl. The thought of someone killing and hanging a white girl shook Jim to his core, he could hardly imagine such a thing, sure in filthy cities like New York, or Chicago, or even LA things like that happened, but not in the small town of Tallahassee. Who in the hell would do something like that? As I said, I don't rightly know nephew, but we are damned sure going to find out. I wouldn't be too terribly damn surprised if'n it was some hopped up 'Spook trying to get a bit of payback for years of 'oppression'. They all got themselves an idea that us white folk owe them something ever since that reverend King Jr been getting'em all riled up... Now I want you to listen and listen good. Me an Hank are gonna take yer truck back into the swamp and fetch that poor young woman's body, I want you to take my cruiser and drive yer way up to the Colored folks neighborhood. It's the grouping of shanties at the end of this road. There is a nigger fella lives back there who got himself in trouble a few years back for getting liquored up and accosting a white woman at the town picnic. You know the nigger I'm talkin' bout? Earl asked. Yeah....I mean yeah but...He hardly accosted her. She spit on him and he returned the favor. I ain't saying it was in good taste but it hardly constitutes being a suspect in a murder investigation. Jim started to protest but his Uncle stopped him in his tracks. Never you mind that, just bring him into the station and I'll meet you there after Hank and me finished with the nasty business at hand. Earl scolded, and Jim dropped his gaze. Yessir It took another twenty minutes to reach the end of the dirt road through the mangroves and as Jim rolled up on the 'shanty' neighborhood consisting of ten or more houses. Many of which were far from shanties at all. These people were proud and used their meager incomes from fieldwork and manual labor fix up their homes, in some cases nicer than some of the white people's houses in town. Jim shut the lights off in the cruiser and parked his Uncle's cruiser in the driveway. He stepped out and instead of making his way directly to the door he had himself a little look around first. Jim sparked his flashlight on, keeping it pointed at the ground so as not to attract any unwanted attention. He made his way up to the older vehicle that was parked in the families driveway. Seeing no fresh tracks, it didn't appear to have been driven today. He placed his hand on the hood and didn't feel any heat emanating either. A quick look inside revealed only some quilts folded on the seats, nothing nefarious at all. Apprehensions be damned, Jim still had his orders to uphold so he made his way over to the house, ascending the short stairs onto the black family's porch. By then he could see several of the other houses curtains pulled back with people watching from the security of their homes. Jim reached up and gently knocked on the front door. Sheriff's department...Anybody home? I need to have a word with the man of the house please! Jim announced in a polite tone. He expected the usual distrust and anger from whoever answered the door, afterall when the law came knocking in this neighborhood it usually wasn't for the police charity benefit. But Jim couldn't have been more surprised, when the door opened he was greeted by one of the prettiest black girls he'd ever laid eyes on and he was taken aback. Aaaahhh....Hi....I mean....Hello....Is your father at home? Jim stammered in the face of her beauty.