Tribes of Time, page 12
“Come on Miss Ella, we just wanted to give you a memorable home coming for Mr. Davies. Don’t blame him, it was Haines’ idea.” Roderick said throwing Haines under the bus.
“Really now? Just for that Haney you all can go out back and clean those chitlins for tonight’s supper.”
“Miss Ella you sure know how to get pay back.” Nilsson looked at Roderick puzzled and asked what chitlins were. Roderick explained that it was the innards of a pig, and that they have to be cleaned prior to cooking; and that the process was not a pleasurable endeavor. Nilsson thought it would be a great cultural experience to learn African American cuisine and quickly volunteered to help.
“I’ll help Miss Ella; just show me what I need to do. I’m sure it’s like making sausages.” Cyrus took a few steps down the stairs and placed a hand on Nilsson’s shoulder.
“Son, believe me; it’s nothing like making sausages, but let’s change first then we can get started.” After Cyrus said that, Haines interjected.
“Cyrus you go inside and spend some time with Miss Ella, she’s had a heck of a time these past couple of days; I’m sure she would appreciate that. We’ll school Nilsson in the art of chitlin cleaning.” Everyone walked into the house to change clothes while Cyrus and Ella remained on the porch rocking in the chairs. After changing the men went out the back door and found a freshly slaughtered hog hanging from a pulley.
“That’s one resourceful woman.” Roderick said in awe looking at what Ella had accomplished in their short trip into town. Haines walked Nilsson over to a cut down 55 gallon barrel where the innards were placed; he knew this by following his nose. Roderick and Michaelson looked around for the chitlin stools and eventually located then just under the back porch stairs; they pulled them out and hosed them down. Nilsson was watching this whole process in amazement; and rather enjoying it.
“What are those buckets for?” he asked as Roderick and Michaelson were setting up the cleaning stations. He was referring to the five gallon buckets with wooden broom handles protruding from the sides.
“Well, it’s not too complicated actually. What you do is sit on the buckets with the stick protruding through your legs. Then you take one end of the innards and slide it down the pole pushing the contents out. Once that is done you repeat the process, but you use a water hose to flush out the remaining contents.”
Roderick rather enjoyed seeing the expressions on Nilsson’s face while learning the process of cleaning chitlins. Nilsson was ready to jump in and get dirty, he felt like a kid with his first set of Lincoln Logs. The cleaning process took about two hours, which was longer than usual; but the men were enjoying themselves cracking on Nilsson and enjoying Red Stripe beers. Once the chitlins were cleaned they were bathed in lemon water for an hour to reduce the odor which was still present.
“I get first dibs on the upstairs shower!” Haines exclaimed as he bounded up the stairs.
“Nilsson should go first, he dove head first into them stank ass chitlins.” Roderick scoffed at Nilsson. Everyone finished their evening routines and gathered around the kitchen table to eat dinner. Conversation during dinner time was jovial and Nilsson shared with the group how he had grown up in a homogeneous society in Sweden, and that he hadn’t even seen a real black person until a High School field trip into Stockholm. He related that his first perceptions of blacks were garnered from television shows like the Cosby Show and Yo MTV Raps.
The group cleared the table and retired to the front porch to enjoy the evening’s southern symphony. While out on the porch the conversation turned to the legal defense of Cyrus and Haines.
“I’m sure the Sheriff has something else planned for us, so we better get started in preparing a game plan.” Roderick expressed.
“What else can he do, didn’t he let Cyrus and Haines go because he had nothing?’ Ella asked.
“Well, Miss Ella ….it works like this. They’ll arrest or detain someone to get charging information, and then they’ll present their case to the Prosecutor for review and determination. If they don’t have enough to charge, they keep digging. I suspect the Assistant State Attorney is their shovel man.”
“I don’t think I can take anymore of this.” Ella said under her breath as she slowly rocked in her chair.
“I know this is hard to hear Miss Ella, but expect it to get worse before it gets better. I’m sure they’ll attempt to character assassinate and discredit you before this even hits a courtroom.” Michaelson added to the conversation. Roderick proposed that Haines and Cyrus continue not providing any information to the Prosecutor’s Office or the Sheriff; and to only respond to concrete evidence. He was adamant about not professing any involvement in the deaths of the six men and if any evidence was gleaned implicating them; they would assert the affirmative claim of self defense. They continued through the night deposing Haines and Cyrus and formulating which Attorney would handle specific aspects of the defense should the need arise. Roderick felt they had done enough preparations and decided to retire for the evening.
“It’s been years since I’ve fished. Flying into the airport I observed that little river down the road; is it public access?” Roderick asked Cyrus
“Yeah it’s open to the public for fishing. There some good sized fish in that slough; would you like to go in the morning?” Cyrus responded. The other men in almost unison answered yes and were excited about some release.
“Aw’right, I’ll go get some bait tonight. What kind of fish you guys wanting to catch?”
“I don’t care what type of fish as long as their edible.” Michaelson replied.
“Y’all bring me some Catfish, Sun Perch or Crappie.” Ella answered for them; those were her three favorite fish to eat. Cyrus got up from the porch followed by Nilsson, who had by now become his little shadow. Nilsson was truly enjoying his immersion in black culture. Cyrus walked to the garage and removed a hand full of “U” shaped pieces of iron wire. He then walked over to the work bench and gathered up a coil of extension cord with the protective covering removed.
“What’s all of this for Cyrus?”
“If we’s going fishing we need to get bait, this is to catch the bait.”
Nilsson was still dumbfounded what Cyrus was planning on doing with the items they recovered from the garage. Cyrus paced back and forth through the back yard and when he got to a place he liked, he instructed Nilsson on what to do.
“Place one of those rights there.” Nilsson just did as he was instructed and followed Cyrus around the yard like a puppy; happy just to be a part of something. Once all of the “U” shaped iron wires were in place, Cyrus started watering down the area. Once that was done, Cyrus started weaving the coiled extension cord through them.
“Okay let’s go make sure no one is off the front porch before we set this thing off.” He and Nilsson walked to the front of the house and told everyone to stay on the porch for the next 15 minutes. Michaelson was perplexed by this statement and had to ask why.
“Cyrus, what’s so important about being on the porch?”
“Can you dance child?” Ella asked with a wry smile on her face.
“I haven’t danced in years, why.”
“You step off that porch and you gonna be doing a Tennessee jig.” She and Cyrus shared a good laugh together. She then proceeded to explain what Cyrus was doing. Cyrus and Nilsson returned to the rear of the house. Cyrus entered onto the screened back porch and retrieved a flashlight; which he handed to Nilsson.
“Go stand on the steps, but don’t step off them. Just watch the area where we put the wires.” Nilsson was getting really excited about what possibly could happen; he couldn’t figure it out. Cyrus then plugged the pronged end of the extension cord into the wall.
“LOOK AT THAT!” Nilsson practically yelled. Haines, Roderick and Michaelson ran through the house to see what all of the excitement was about. Ella just rocked in her chair laughing at the men running to see what was happening, like little boys on Christmas day. When everyone got to the back porch Nilsson turned in their direction and just pointed at the ground speechless.
“That juice just brings them above ground, no digging needed.” Cyrus was enjoying imparting an aspect of his knowledge that the others didn’t possess. Cyrus then pulled the plug from the socket.
“Aw’right y’all, get the bucket and let’s start getting them before the sting wears off.” The men jumped off the porch and started competing against each other to see who could catch the most night crawlers. Cyrus told the men to leave the small ones and to let them grow some more.
“Man that was fun; I’ve never seen anything like it. It was like a cheese grater the way them worms came shooting out of the ground.”
Nilsson said looking down into the writhing mass of night crawlers. Cyrus went to the kitchen and got some old coffee grounds; which he mixed with dirt and shredded newspaper.
“Cyrus how’d you learn how to do that, I would never have guessed that was a way to get worms.” Nilsson posed.
“I learned from my daddy and he learned from his daddy, I suppose it’s been handed down through the family.” Nilsson just watched Cyrus for the rest of the evening thinking this man was intelligent, but you’d never know it by the diction he uses. He now had a new perspective on those around him that he used to perceive as less intelligent by the way they spoke.
“Well y’all, this is where I bid you g’nite. I’ll be waking y’all about 5:00 am. Perch and Crappie are morning biters.” The men bid goodnight to Cyrus, but remained sitting out in the screened porch area.
“Have you guys ever seen anything like that before, who would’ve thought of something like that?” Nilsson chimed.
“I’ve seen my grandfather do it once when I was younger, he was the only other person I know that gathered bait that way.” Roderick responded.
“Don’t let these country folks lure you into thinking their stupid, many of them just didn’t have an opportunity to get formal education like us; but they’re just as smart or smarter.” Haines was right, many southern blacks had to adopt the dumb Negro persona to stay alive; but possessed great intellect.
“I have to go post this on my face book.” With that, Nilsson excused himself from the group and went inside to his iPad. Michaelson just reclined back in his chair and sipped on his beer looking at the night sky. Haines and Roderick continued chatting about nothing in particular, just old friends catching up; eventually they too called it a night as well. Before long Cyrus was at their doors waking them up for breakfast before they headed out to the slough. Again Nilsson was the first to volunteer to get the gear ready and placed in the bed of the truck. After breakfast they all loaded up in the truck and headed off towards Cyrus’ favorite fishing hole. Ella watched as the truck disappeared down the lane before she went back into the house.
CHAPTER 16
CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE
“T
errance have you secured that warrant yet? We need to get started as soon as possible on this; time is of the essence.” Milford shouted at Terrance from across the courtyard as they were both merging on the Prosecutor’s office.
“Yes we have, your assistant should’ve given it to you yesterday evening.” Terrance responded as he turned onto the walkway leading into his office. He stopped and waited for Milford to catch up to him. Once the men were face to face, Terrance said
“I’ve also included the car belonging to Haines and Cyrus’ truck.”
“You want a pat on the back? That should have been included in the initial warrant.”
“I totally agree, one of Vernon’s young Deputies wrote the initial warrant and he took it to get signed by Judge Von Brugge. I won’t take responsibility for that major fuck up.” Milford looked at Terrance side eyed as they walked into the building, he didn’t like the fact that he was so quick in throwing out Vernon’s name for the oversight. He knew the misstep would be challenged in court, and Vernon was not the best person to have on the stand.
“Okay so tell me where we’re at now?” Milford said as he sat down in Terrance’s chair leaving him to sit on the other side; where he wasn’t accustomed to sitting. Terrance reiterated that in the new affidavit he requested permission to obtain samples from every drain within the Davies home, access to the vehicles on property; and to legally obtain hair, blood and saliva samples from Haines and Cyrus. Milford looked at his watch and was getting anxious that his assistant hadn’t arrived yet.
“I’ll be heading out to the airport around 7:30 am to pick up the two Pathologist and Serologist I requested. Once they get here, I want you to take the Serologist out on the warrant service with you.” There was a knock at the door, which was already opened; but it was customary to knock before you entered a room. Milford and Terrance looked up and saw that it was the assistant that helped Terrance with the preparation of the new warrant.
“I looked for you sir when we completed the warrant, but we couldn’t find you.”
“Vernon took me out to the scene to meet with this Anthropologist, rather fascinating her field of study.” Milford stood up from his chair and stuck out his hand for the warrant. He read through it carefully to ensure no pertinent information was missing. Milford then stepped from around the desk and headed for the door.
“I’ll be back as soon as possible; I’m going over to see Judge Von Brugge and get him to sign off on this. How is the old codger these days, still a curmudgeon? Milford was a law clerk for Von Brugge during the summers to help pay for Law School.
“I’m sure he’s still just the way you remember him. I’d recommend you stop by and get a bottle of Maker’s to butter him up.” With that Milford left the office and proceeded to the Judge’s office on the other side of Hemmings Park. The meeting with Judge Von Brugge went rather smoothly and the two men reminisced for about forty five minutes after the formality of the meeting was over. Milford hurried back to Terrance’s office to gather him and his assistance for the ride out to the airport. The men loaded up in two of the suburban’s and headed out to Ocelia’s little municipal airport. During the drive to the airport Milford was briefing his assistant to begin an outline of an arrest warrant, but to leave the names blank; just in case they find enough to actually nail these bastards this time.
“Let’s get some coffee while we wait for the plane to arrive.” Terrance said as the vehicles pulled into the parking lot.
“Sounds good to me, get me a Caramel Macchiato” Milford was used to being attended to by other’s that he just expected it everywhere he went. Terrance had an indifference towards Milford and subtlety let him know that.
“See Winston, you said that rather smoothly; I’m sure you’d have no problem ordering from the barista.” This little slight was not received well by Milford.
“What the hell was that Terrance, are you forgetting I’m you’re superior; not to mention I’m here cleaning up your shit pile.” Terrance was not phased one bit by the inference of Milford being his superior.
“Correction, you’re here cleaning up your cousin’s mess, I just happened to be the clean up man. I’d be more than happy to completely step aside and let you take the reins.” Milford didn’t expect Terrance to stand his ground; he was used to sycophants jumping at his every order.
“Maybe we’re getting off on the wrong foot this morning. I’ll take back the comment about being your superior; I was wrong, we’re all here to do the same job.”
While the two were in the suburban quipping with each other, Milford’s assistant had gone inside and ordered two caramel Macchiato and a double Espresso for Terrance. He knew that was his drink of choice since they had stopped the day previous to get coffee before they worked on the warrant. He opened the door and handed each man their drinks, then took a seat back inside the vehicle. The plane had landed; Milford and the other’s walked out to meet them as they were gathering their bags. Milford told the disembarking party.
“Get one of them boy’s over there to bring your bags to the car.” Milford pointed to a group of African Americans waiting just outside of the airport doors. Terrance turned and looked in the direction Milford had pointed to; he observed a group of men that he recognized as a group from Nashville there for a financial conference.
“Those men don’t work for the airport Winston.” Terrance informed Milford.
“Who cares, they’re still nigra’s aren’t they?” everyone in the group looked at Milford with disbelief that he just made that statement. Terrance definitely didn’t share those sentiments of Milford; the others didn’t appear to either. Terrance pulled Milford aside to speak with him privately while the others helped to take the luggage to the vehicles.
“Winston I know your personal sentiments when it comes to race relations, I definitely do not share your philosophy in that regards. So I’m asking you to keep those comments confined to those who do; I will not have my name besmirched or tainted.” Milford just smiled and coolly responded
“Your Pappy would be very disappointed boy, what happened to you in those Yankee schools?”
“That’s the very reason I chose those schools to get away from your asinine way of thinking. Let’s get one more thing straight, I’m prosecuting this case based on facts and not the fiction that’s common in these types of cases.”
“And what kind of case is that?” Terrance just turned and walked towards the vehicle without answering him. Milford stood there for a moment watching Terrance walk away before he threw his last barb.
“Where are you going, the vehicles are full, you’re going to have to find another ride back into town.” Terrance just kept walking and threw up a middle finger salute over his shoulder as he walked into the airport terminal. Milford made sure everyone was loaded up, and then instructed the drivers to proceed back to town.
When the small caravan of vehicle pulled up in front of the Prosecutors office Vernon was waiting for them. He watched as everyone exited the vehicle, but he didn’t see Terrance.
