A West Tennessee nonprofit organization will use a $300,000 federal grant to hire an attorney and a Spanish-speaking paralegal to help provide legal assistance to domestic violence victims. The U.S. Department of Justice two-year grant will begin Oct. 1, which is the start of domestic violence awareness month. U.S. Rep. John Tanner announced Monday that the grant was awarded to West Tennessee Legal Services of Jackson. The organization provides legal assistance and advocacy in 17 counties. "This award will offer assistance as we look for whatever ways possible to stop domestic violence and help the women, men and children who are victims of abuse," Tanner said in a news statement. The organization doesn't have a staff member who speaks Spanish and the need is increasing with growing Hispanic populations, said the organization's executive director Steven Xanthopoulos. He estimated the money will help handle at least another 180 cases next year. The group closes about 2,500 cases a year. The money was timed well because the legal group had recently lost about $120,000 in grant money due to a decrease in the poverty population in West Tennessee in Census 2000, Xanthopoulos said. "The drop in poverty is a good thing, but there is still a great need out there," he said. "So this was a very good thing." Having legal representation at divorce and child custody hearings is important in helping victims leave abusive and sometimes dangerous situations, said Margaret Cole, executive director of Wo/Men's Resource and Rape Assistance Program in Jackson. Her organization and Northwest Safeline are partners in the grant. Northwest Safeline, based in Dyersburg, is a family violence intervention project that serves Dyer, Obion, Lake and Crockett counties.

Question: "How many more cases will the grant money that West Tennessee Legal Services be able to handle next year?"

Response: "At least another 180 cases next year"

A: yes

The old vaulted church was stripped down: there was no cloth on the altar, just a DJ's toolkit and his beer. Through the dark, I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they'd taken down the crucifix. A confessional too beaten-up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside, and where the pews had been taken out, a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ's moving sermon. Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling's blue-lit, shadowed vault and the light-catching haze from who-knows-what rising between the DJ and the crowd. There was a terrific echo, each beat reverberating inside of the next, and the old stained-glass windows rattled in their frames. On the dance floor, people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air. I danced with Rachel for a while, but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes. She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd. When she hadn't come back halfway through the next song, I glanced over at the bar. It was just a little set-up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share, mostly beer. Rachel was standing with a plastic cup, looking like she was having a conversation, but I couldn't see anyone else there. The next time the crowd split, I saw him. He stood in front of a blue light, so I couldn't see him clearly, but what I saw was memorable. He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet, and his hair gleamed black against his white skin. The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor, setting off his striking face without illuminating its details, and his wrists flashed white in the darkness. He didn't move, just stared and held his drink. The next time I saw them, his mouth was moving. She nodded and he took her arm. I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall, and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong. Saturday morning, I woke up and saw that she still hadn't come home.

Question: "What was left when the crucifix was taken down from the wall at the old vaulted church?"

Response: "Three bolts"

A: yes

Grim disappeared upstairs himself, and returned about ten minutes later in the uniform of a Shereefian officer--that is to say, of Emir Feisul's Syrian army. Nothing could be smarter, not anything better calculated to disguise a man. Disguise, as any actor or detective can tell you, is not so much a matter of make- up as suggestion. It is little mannerisms--unstudied habits that identify. The suggestion that you are some one else is the thing to strive for, not the concealment of who you really are. Grim's skin had been sun-tanned in the Arab campaign under Lawrence against the Turks. The Shereefian helmet is a compromise between the East and West, having a strip of cloth hanging down behind it as far as the shoulders and covering the ears on either side, to take the place of the Arab head-dress. The khaki uniform had just enough of Oriental touch about it to distinguish it from that of a British officer. No man inexperienced in disguise would dream of choosing it; for the simple reason that it would not seem to him disguise enough. Yet Grim now looked so exactly like somebody else that it was hard to believe he was the same man who had been in the room ten minutes before. His mimicry of the Syrian military walk--blended of pride and desire not to seem proud--was perfect.

Question: "What disguise did Grim put on?"

Response: "He put on a uniform"

A:
no