Excerpt

CHAPTER 1
THE INCIDENT

CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH. The sound of a vehicle as it slowly rolls over the loose gravel on the shoulder of a rural paved road. Barnard Stallworth begins to stir in his front bedroom. His eyes snap open and he listens intently in the dark. His wife was dying from cancer and he sleeps very lightly. He listens very closely, finally recognizes it is a vehicle and becomes slightly disgusted. The old black man yawns, he thinks the time must be about 10:30 PM or 11:00 PM,1 because he just finished watching the 10 PM news and started to doze off to sleep. He cocks his head as he tries to hear more sounds and blinks his eyes several times in the dark. He hears the vehicle driving slowly down the blacktop in front of his house, how strange he thinks and sits straight up in his bed. He shakes his head, clears the cobwebs from his slumber, turns around and dangles his feet over the edge of his bed. He holds his breath and listens more keenly. He leans forward, feels for his bedroom slippers on the cold floor and the sound of his bed springs squeak with his movement. He cocks his head again and listens.

CRUNCH, CRUNCH, CRUNCH. He slides forward and slips his feet into his bedroom slippers. He rises from his bed with a final squeak from his bed and shuffles across in the dark to a window facing the north. He sees a vehicle drive very slowly westerly down the road to a side road, about a mile from his house. He leans up against the window and cocks his head to watch the car. He later told, The vehicle then turned around and proceeded east to a logging road directly across from my house where it pulled in and parked. He watches as the lights snap off and the red taillights disappear into the darkness. He lets out a big sigh, shrugs his sloped shoulders, turns around, returns to his bed and then sits down momentarily on the edge. He slides his foot out of his slippers and hears themthumb, thumb as they hit the floor. He listens again but it has grown silent and the night is unusually quiet. He generally can hear the little house creak in a slight Alabama wind but this night was extremely still. He sighs, turns back around in his bed and lays down. He closes his eyes and after what seems like an eternity he drifts back to sleep.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAM! The high shrill breaks the silence and Stallworth shot straight up in his bed jolted for the second time from his sleep. His eyes squint in the dark while he gets his bearings. He thinks to himself. It sure sounds like a womans screams! He shakes his head again and tries to convince himself otherwise. No, I am not dreaming, he thinks to himself. Oh, it might have been a wildcat, he thinks. He draws in and exhales a large breath of irritation from being disturbed. He shakes his head, lies back down in his bed and listens while his springs squeak again. He lays his head down on his pillow and for the longest time he just listens. It was such a jolt to his system. He whispers in the darkness to himself, like to scared me to death. Slowly he drifts off to sleep for the second time.

SLAM! SLAM is the sound of a car door. The old mans eyes snap open again. He just lies there and lets out a sigh of annoyance. He mumbles again, What are they doing! He cant fall back to sleep so he lays in the darkness and listens. He closes his eyes several times but they snap back open and slowly a third time he drifts off.

SLAM! SLAM he hears a car door banging shut again. He rolls over and mumbles to himself in disgust for this constant disturbance and the fourth time in one night. He lets out a big sigh! He sleeps lightly to begin with but he is having an extremely hard time getting back to sleep. Finally in the wee hours of the morning he drifts into a restless sleep.

Stallworth awakes early in the morning and feels tired with little sleep from being disturbed four times. He slowly dresses, shakes his head and shuffles his feet as he walks across the floor towards his kitchen. The temperature has fallen in the night and it is a typical chilly morning for early March in Alabama. He summons up his energy, opens his door and steps out about 6:00 AM. He makes his way across his little drive where he chops wood to make kindling or as he fondly calls it chipping splinters.

Humm, he mutters to himself as he looks at a light-colored station wagon that is still parked on the logging road. He stands mesmerized as the driver gets out of the car and walks to the back of the wagon. The vehicle had a back window that lifted straight up. The man opens the hatchback and the driver was a white male, a little over average height. The man faces the back of the wagon unaware that Stallworth is watching his every move. He undoes his pants, lets them slide down and kicks them off. The old black man shakes his head in disgust as he looks at the mans lily white bottom with no underwear. Nasty habit, he thinks to himself. The man reaches inside the station wagon, got a pair of olive color coveralls. He watches as he steps into the legs, pulls them up, sticks an arm into each sleeve and maneuvers the coveralls up over his shoulders. He picks up his pants and throws them into the back of the station wagon. SLAM, the old man jumps a little startled as the door slams shut with a bang.




1 Barnard C. Stallworth Affidavit, March 23, 1994, see pg. 191.


??

??

??

??