Due Process (Joe Dillard #9)(70)







TUESDAY, OCTOBER 22

A light snow, the first of the year, began to fall as Caroline and I headed into the mountains west of Knoxville on our latest trip to Nashville for her immunotherapy. She was doing relatively well, all things considered, and I was feeling relieved after being able to climb out of the pressure cooker that had been the ETSU rape case that wasn’t a rape at all.

“I don’t think I ever told you how proud I was of you,” Caroline said as her car climbed steadily along Interstate 40.

“Proud of me for what?”

“For taking on that case in the first place. For believing in those boys. For having the courage to take on racists from both sides. And for making sure it turned out right.”

“It didn’t turn out right for everybody,” I said.

“It shouldn’t have turned out right for some of them. Karma’s tough on some people.”

Judge Neese had been true to her word. The Tennessee Supreme Court had suspended Mike Armstrong’s law license pending disbarment proceedings in front of the Board of Professional Responsibility. An assistant district attorney named Tony Brooks had been appointed to serve in the interim, pending the primary election the following April. No one had seen or heard from Armstrong since he received notice of his suspension, but the newspaper had reported that the feds had opened an official misconduct investigation. Since Erlene didn’t actually pay him any money, he might beat the charge, but he’d certainly be sweating—or crying—for several months to come. I didn’t really give a damn what happened to him. He’d done a great deal of damage, and he deserved every bit of what was coming.

The most shocking thing that came of the hearing—outside the bloodbath that occurred afterward—was that Bo Riddle hanged himself in his jail cell three days after Judge Neese held him in contempt. I suppose he knew the real hammer would come down on him sooner or later. Leon Bates had discovered videotape of the truck that was at my house the night the cross was burned. The feds had moved in and turned up the heat on his buddies that were captured at the power station, among them Garrett Brown. All of them were facing a variety of federal firearms charges along with attempted civil rights intimidation charges. One or two of them apparently had made deals and agreed to testify against Riddle. He must have known he was on his way to a federal penitentiary when he slipped the sheet around his neck. I worried about Greg Murray, Sarah’s boyfriend, a little. Even if Garrett Brown and his white supremacist buddies went off to the penitentiary for a while, they’d most likely be back in five years and Greg might have to deal with them. They had to know it was him who gave them up.

[[?page_288?]]All three of the players: Kevin Davidson, Devonte Wright and Evan Belle, were allowed to return to school and the football team. They had classroom work to catch up on and they had to get back into shape, but the last time I talked to Kevin, he seemed genuinely satisfied with the way things were going. He and the other boys had retained civil attorneys to deal with the university. ETSU wouldn’t be paying Erlene Barlowe, but they’d being putting out some money for the three young men they condemned before they were given their day in court.

As for Erlene Barlowe, Leon had decided to leave her alone. He didn’t want erotic videotapes of himself and Erlene being distributed throughout the state, and he figured Erlene had been punished enough because everything had gone so terribly wrong. Sheila was dead, along with several men. There had been a lot of property damaged or destroyed at the courthouse and at my house. The university was paying—they just weren’t paying her. So Erlene was still free to ply her trade and prey on lonely perverts and druggies.

“Thank you,” I said to Caroline. “What you think of me means more than anything else.”

She reached over and took my hand as the snow began to fall harder. It was beautiful against the backdrop of the mountains.

“You’re a good guy, Joe Dillard,” Caroline said. “I’m glad we found each other all those years ago.”

“Me, too,” I said as I turned to her, smiled and winked. “And we still have a long way to go.”




Thank you for reading, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed Due Process. As an independently published author, I rely on you, the reader, to spread the word. So if you enjoyed the book, please tell your friends and family, and if it isn’t too much trouble, I would appreciate a brief review on Amazon. Thanks again. My best to you and yours.

-Scott

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