*****
A Cry in the Wind
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
Now I lay me down to sleep;
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake.
I pray Thee, Lord, my soul to take;
And this I ask for Jesus’ sake.
Amen.
Falling rain glazed the streets in Nashville. Only the reflection of the street lights glittered in the puddles of water. It had rained on and off for three days. My name is Paul Howard Jenkins. I was eight years old. We lived in a rundown house on Spring Creek, Daddy (James Ace Jenkins), Mama, Loria Mae Jenkins, and me (Bubba). Ace, that was what everybody called Daddy, was a broad shouldered man with short hair and a scraggly beard. His two front teeth were missing along with his index finger, up to the first joint. He would always joke about his finger. He would say he wore it off picking a banjo. Mama was medium weight. She stuttered a lot and had long hair that she pulled up in a bun. She was a medium size woman who wore glasses, and her heart was bigger than it all.
I remember back growing up how Daddy would come home drunk and beat on Mama and me. We tried to fight him off, but he was a big man, and mean. There is no telling how many times he blacked Mama’s eye and slapped her around. He would kick me under the table because he said I was eating with my mouth full. Many times he would hit me in the head with his fist and when I would come home in the evening he would check the refrigerator and see if I had eaten anything before supper. I would get a whipping if I had. It was hard not to eat when Mama would fix my favorite food, boiled ox tail with salt and pepper, sauerkraut and ribs, and crackling cornbread. Mama made the best. She tried to help and protect me from him, but he was so overbearing and so angry. He would lose any or all the common sense he had. Daddy, I guess you would say, was a troubled man and others paid for it.
Virgil Johnson was a good friend of Daddy and Mama. He tried to get Daddy some help but Daddy told him there was nothing wrong. Virgil looked out for Mama and me. He was a lot older and a churchgoer. Many times I would run over to Virgil’s house late at night to get away from home. He tried several times to get Mama to leave Daddy but she would never go. She was afraid. I have laid on Virgil’s couch many times at bedtime and listened to Virgil pray for us. Sometimes he would take the Bible and tell me stories of things that had happened.
But, I’ll always remember the little prayer that Mama taught me—Now I lay me down to sleep. At night when I’d go to bed I would softly say the prayer. I didn’t understand things; maybe I was still too young. But I felt safe when I prayed.
I remember that night when Daddy came home drunk. He and Mama got into it; he said the supper was cold. He flew into a rage, grabbing a hammer from off a nearby table and beat her to death before my eyes.
I ran to Virgil’s. He was asleep. As I cried I beat on his door, standing in nothing but my underwear. Virgil opened the door. I tried to tell him what had happened. I could still see Daddy with the hammer in his hand. The vision was still fresh in my mind. Virgil called the police. Quickly, they arrived at the house. Virgil and I stood outside in the yard. As the police made their way in to search the house, they found Mama dead and Daddy was gone. I started to cry. I didn’t understand why. Virgil comforted me and held me tight in his arms. Shortly, they brought out Mama’s body. She was covered with a long dark sheet. As they passed by and put her into the hearse, I whisper the little prayer she had taught me—now I lay me down to sleep. Virgil had talked to the detective in charge and filled him in on the situation. He asked the detective if it would be okay for me to stay with him a while because I had no other family. The detective told him that would be fine for now, but he would have to go to court and get custody of me eventually. Virgil told him that would be fine.
The next six months would prove to be a true test of friendship. I had a hard time giving up Mama. I constantly had bad dreams. I was afraid that Daddy would come back and get Virgil and me.
“Virgil,” why would the Lord take Mama?” I asked. “You said the Lord is good and loves us. Why did he have to take Mama? I don’t understand.”
Virgil replied, “Bubba, love hurts sometimes. Don’t you think it didn’t hurt the Lord when we nailed his son to the cross? He had done no wrong.”
“I hate him,” I cried out. “He could have stopped it.”
“But, Bubba,” said Virgil. It wasn’t in God’s hands. It was Ace’s choice.”
“You said that the Lord can do everything, nothing is impossible, but he couldn’t stop my Mama from dying?” I asked.
“You’re right, Bubba. It’s too much to understand right now,” replied Virgil. “But you will understand some day. But, I will tell you this. You won’t believe me now, but some day you’ll see. God loves you, Loria Mae, and even Ace.”
Not long after that, Virgil went to court and got custody. As time passed, I slowly accepted things somewhat better than earlier. The detective never did find daddy. It was like he had disappeared off the face of the earth. I was living in fear of daddy’s return—that he might try to hurt Virgil and me. The old house where I had been raised was empty now and abandoned. The windows were all broken out, there was no front door; I hadn’t been back in it since they had carried Mama out. Virgil was doing pretty well, except for a cough he had. I tried to get him to go to the doctor but he wouldn’t go. I tried to say a little prayer for him, but I don’t pray much anymore. It’s been a long time. I don’t remember the last time I prayed Mama’s little prayer she taught me. It wasn’t the same.
As the days passed, Virgil’s cough got worse. He knew it probably would be a matter of time before his heart gave out, from what the doctor had already warned him earlier. But there was one thing he prayed, and that was the Lord wouldn’t let me see him die. I had already seen enough.
At the same time Nashville was terrorized by two unsolved murders. The headlines in the paper read of a killer stalking the city, killing at random. Nights screamed with the echoes of sirens. Fear hung over the city as a dark cloud.
One day Virgil asked me to run some errands for him. I told him I would. I still remember the look in his eyes that day as I left. When I got back home about an hour later, the neighbors stood outside in the yard as they brought him out. I heard one in the crowd say that Roy Gene from next door came over to visit Virgil and found him dead. I fought back the tears and slipped back into the crowd so I wouldn’t be noticed. I watched from the distance as they loaded him up in the hearse.
I was fourteen the day Virgil died. It was also the time I started to live on the street. My world as I knew it had come to a halt. For the next few days, I wondered the streets of Nashville. I’d cry a while and then cuss a while. I was so bitter, so unhappy, and so lost. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who to be angry at, myself or all the others for the way things had turned out. I was angry and bitter at everyone, especially God. I didn’t ask to be born.
“Life sucks,” I cried out.
I let my anger and bitterness drive me, controlling my life. I began to fight and steal to get by. The sirens echoed in the hollow of the night as I took refuge from the elements under bridges or in alleys. Two months had passed since Virgil had died. I still remember a lot of the things he would always say, but they seemed so senseless now and void. I miss him and Mama more each day. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about them. There are times I wish I was dead also. Maybe that would be the answer to all things.
The newspaper stated that the two unsolved murders of two women had become a cold case, but an investigation was still carried on. The word on the street was that Governor Thurman Towns was corrupt along with his office. There were murder charges pending against him. Rumor has it he had close connections with the Memphis mob. But nothing had ever been proven. They say that he is heavily in debt with them
and they want their money. Who really knows?
Not only did I have to fight my own demons, there were bullies on the street who tried to make it hard on me. I couldn’t help that I was a little slow, but that didn’t give them the right to pick on me. But most everyone on the street liked me. They would always speak good of me. I was a big help to a lot of them. I’d do things for them and help them out if I could. Deep down beneath the anger and bitterness of my heart lay a big heart, a heart that had been cheated wrongly in life’s way.
A slow, steady drizzle fell that night as I wandered around lower Broad. As I entered the alley on the corner of Demonbreun and Commerce I stumbled across the body of a dead woman. I stood for a moment, looking around. I didn’t see anyone. Then I noticed the necklace about her neck and the ring on her finger. Quickly, I took them. Suddenly I heard footsteps and someone coughing. I took off down the alley the other way and disappeared into the night. I wandered about for a while. I heard sirens crying out across the city. I wondered if they had found the body. I eventually made my way over to the mission, a shelter called Five Loafs and Two Fishes on River Street. I stayed the night there.
The next morning the newspaper headline read—Killer Strikes Again. The paper didn’t mention the woman’s name at that time. But it did say that two new detectives had taken over the case. Detective Dwight Tinsley and Detective Kevin Stephens had been assigned to the case by the chief of police because of their expertise in murder cases. Meanwhile, Jimmy Lee, a metro cop, was arriving in Memphis for a weekend getaway. When he arrived he didn’t waste any time hitting the high spots of town, club after club, he made the best of it—a real party dog. But, when he hit the Riverfront Strip Club he found her. Her name was Shelia and she was IT, all in one neat package. They hooked up quickly with no time to waste. As the weekend ended he said he’d be back. He made several trips to romance the girl of his dreams, and she, too, was having strong feelings for him. After a few months he talked her into moving back to Nashville to live. She hesitated at first, but he promised her a job at the Whiskey Barrel on lower Broad. He had a good friend who owned it. Finally, he convinced her and she moved to Nashville. She didn’t tell anyone where she was going except her best friend Donna at the club. Shelia just up and quit and took off. She stayed with Jimmy Lee for a while until they found her dead behind a store on Third Avenue a few weeks after she arrived.
There was nothing left but the remnants of the big snow. It had snowed for two days, heavily, leaving behind eight inches of snow. But, as the snow was melting, another Nashville murder was exposed.
I was the first on the scene. She lay in behind a dumpster, curled up. I looked about but saw no one. I reached for her purse and took out the money. It wasn’t much but more than I had. I took a locket and bracelet also. Little did I know on the back was her name. As I raised up, I saw a woman looking at me. She started to yell as I took off the other way.
Within minutes, the police arrived. I stood nearby. I hid as I saw her talking to the two detectives investigating the crime scene at the bus stop. It appeared that this victim had been killed by the same killer as the others. They all had been strangled by some kind of rope from behind. The killer had made it clear he attacked from behind, probably not wanting to be recognized by the victim if they were to live. It was not a sexual killing or a robbery, except this time the killer had gone through her purse. The other victim’s money was still intact in their purses, but this victim’s purse was empty. That didn’t fit the killer’s profile or maybe this was a different killer. The women were twenty to thirty-six years of age. All of them were from Nashville except this one whose driver’s license stated Memphis. There was a card also in the purse of a club called the Riverfront Strip. They left for Memphis. Little did anyone know at that time what the two detectives would uncover in Memphis.
Arriving in Memphis around noon, they had to wait on the club to open. They grabbed a bite to eat and checked at the Memphis Metropolitan Police Department for any information on her. She had a prior arrest of prostitution and assault charges, which were dropped, and had been busted twice on drug charges. After that they made their way over to the Riverfront Strip, a well known strip joint for high top rollers. They went in and asked around, showing her picture about. Then they talked to Donna who was her best friend and sat down and asked some questions.
“She told us a few months ago that she had hooked up with some guy out of Nashville, a Jimmy Lee something. He was a cop. They hit it off real big. He talked her into giving up her job here and going back to Nashville with him. I tried to tell her it was too quick, to be patient, and wait awhile but she wouldn’t listen. She had to go.”
“Could you give us a description of him?” they asked.
“Sure,” she replied. “I’ll never forget his face. He was in his thirties, dark wavy hair, and green eyes. He was about 5’10” tall, 180 pounds, with a scar under his right eye. He had a tattoo of a cross and knife on his right forearm, and he had a mole on the left side of his nose, small but noticeable.”
“Is there anything else you can think off,” they asked, “tricks, old boyfriends, anything?”
“Yes, there is one thing else,” she said. “Do you know she is the governor’s granddaughter?”
The two detectives looked at one another as their mouths hung open.
“What,” they replied, “his granddaughter!”
“Sheila told me one time that her real name is Beverly Towns. Her grandfather is the governor. She changed her name to hide her connection with her grandfather. But of course he didn’t have much to do with her. He helped her out of some trouble a few times and gave her some money.”
They discussed the case and the new information they had received.
“They wondered if this case was mob connected?
“It could be,” Kevin answered.
“There has been a lot of talk around about the governor and a mob connection,” said Dwight.
“But why would a metro cop be hooked up with a stripper?” asked Kevin. “Especially the governor’s granddaughter unless he knew she was the governor’s granddaughter. Let’s stop off at the precinct when we get back and see what we can find out about Jimmy Lee.”
Hours later they rolled into Nashville and headed for the precinct. As they entered they started going through the data files and information on the employees. After several hours of research they came up with nothing past or present. No Jimmy Lee ever worked at Metro Police Department with the description she gave them. Then they decided to come up with a composite drawing and have it passed around to all the men.
Meanwhile, they checked in with the governor about his granddaughter. He had already heard and he put out a gag order while the investigation was going on. He did seem to be bothered by it or something. They gave him their condolences and he wanted it to be kept low profile and private at the time. Treat it as one of the other murders.
A couple of days later they found Jimmy Lee. He had been shot in the head and stuffed into a trunk of a car at the bus station parking lot on 8th Street. After running a background check, they found out that Jimmy Lee Baker was a known hit man for the Memphis Mafia. From the way it looked, someone took a hit on him. After the investigation on Jimmy Lee, they couldn’t get enough evidence to say Jimmy Lee killed the Governor’s granddaughter. It was all circumstantial. Believe it or not he had an alibi when she was killed. But they found out later the witness was mafia connected. But why was he killed and who did it? Or was it the killer of the other murders. They tried to find out.
They showed a picture of Jimmy Lee to the witness in the alley. But, she said it wasn’t him. It was a homeless man she saw. The body had been there several hours before she saw the killer. Jimmy Lee could have killed her and later on a homeless man who was lurking around the alley could have come across it and that was who she saw.
> The case was baffling. It seemed like they were going nowhere. The governor was on their back to make an arrest and to stop the killings. He was in so deep that the state’s district attorney office had opened an investigation on the governor. The FBI was probing him also, especially when the newspaper released their findings that the mafia had killed the governor’s granddaughter who was a stripper in a nightclub in Memphis. A full blown investigation of the governor and the murders in Nashville had opened up. The investigation by the FBI and metro had shown that the governor was taking bribes, bid rigging, embezzling money out of the rainy day fund, falsifying documents, and recording for personal gain. Those were some of the charges that were being brought before him, during the ongoing investigation. The murders connection was being considered. Also within a week there were two more murders, same M.O. One body was found on Jefferson Street behind a quick wash, and the other body was found on Dickerson Road.
Not long afterward I ran into Patty. She was one of my homeless girlfriends. I showed her some jewelry, necklaces, rings, and bracelets that I had found on the bodies of the victim. I didn’t see any harm in taking them. They were dead and I could hock them for money to get by on. She looked at them and found some she liked, so I gave it to her, for a kiss and hug. About a week later she was picked up downtown on 1st Avenue and Riverfront, trying to sell them. The police arrested her and took her in. They questioned her about where she got them. She told them that I gave them to her for a kiss and hug. Detective Tinsley and Stephens immediately put out an APB on me to bring me in. Metro combed the city the next day looking for me. Patty was arrested for concealing stolen property with the intent to resell. Although she had no prior record except for shoplifting and a few other misdemeanors, the judge gave her a week in jail and six months probation.
Eventually they caught me and put me under arrest, 2nd degree robbery, suspicion of murder, and tampering with a crime scene. When they took me into the precinct I unloaded my pockets. There on the table was some more jewelry. As the detective pondered through it, they ran across a bracelet with an inscription on the back that read Beverly Towns. That was enough to get things started. From that time on my life would never be the same.
“Bubba,” asked Detective Stephens, “do you want to tell us where you got all this jewelry?”
I didn’t say anything at first. Then he asked me again. I told him I found it.
“You found it where?” asked Detective Tinsley.
“In the alley,” I replied, “off the bodies of the dead women.” Then the detective stepped out of the room for a minute. I then looked at them and said, “You don’t think I killed them do you?”
“Did you?” they asked. “Maybe you wanted the jewelry and took the opportunity to get it.”
“No way,” I replied. “They were all dead when I found them.”
Then they saw the yellow rope I had tied around my waist to hold my britches up. They asked me to take it off. I told them my pants would fall off. They assured me the clothes in the jail would fit me fine.
“We’re holding you for the seventy-two hours. Take him away,” said Detective Stephens.
In a matter of hours word came to the governor. The D.A. Phillip Franklyn informed the governor of the situation of Paul Howard Bubba Jenkins. They read the arresting report of the detective, the testimony of the suspect. After carefully looking over the information, I looked like an ideal fall guy for him. I was homeless, nobody knows me, or would really care. Then he turned to Phillip.
“They wanted me put away so I would never see daylight again for these murders. Do whatever it takes for a guilty verdict.”
But little did the governor know that it would come back and haunt him later.
The next day the governor called a meeting with Judge Daniel Warren and the D.A. “Looking at the evidence against Jenkins (Bubba), it all appears pretty much circumstantial,” said the judge.
The governor turned and said that he would make the arrangements that I be tried in Judge Warren’s courtroom and he would take care of the jury selection. “Phillip will know who to pick as well as you. If Bubba is found guilty and sent to prison, look for yourself a nice little blessing out of the rainy day fund.”
The governor boasted that if he could get those murder charges off of him, the worse they can do is impeach him and he could get the other charges lowered to a lesser charge with a plea bargain. Probably he would have to give up his office but I’ll be a free man. Now let’s get it done.
The evidence, although it was circumstantial, was beginning to pile up against me. They put me in a line up where I was recognized by a witness at one of the bodies. I had all that jewelry on me, plus they searched where I stayed and found some other things I took. The yellow rope was close enough to the kind of a rope the women were killed with. The fiber was close to the same and my prints were found at the scene. When it boiled down to it, they had enough on me to take me to trial. They came and got me and took me back to the interrogation room. They read me my rights then they charged me with the Nashville murders. Book him and call him a lawyer was the last thing I heard when I left the room.
When the governor heard the news that they had charged Bubba with the murders, he called the D.A. and requested that Johnathan J. Owen be assigned as my lawyer. He went on to state that Johnathan owed him quite a bit of money and this could be a good way to pay it back. Then he laughed.
“Where can I find him?” asked Phillip.
“Start first at the bars on lower Broad and keep someone with him until this is all over. He’s got to stay sober.”
The newspaper spread it all across the city—Nashville Murders by Homeless Man. It was the talk of the town. The spread of the fear had left the city and the people were back, ready to party.
In no time I was sent up for arraignment. The charges were read to me. I pleaded not guilty. The case was turned over to the Grand Jury. Trial date was in two weeks from that day. Mr. Owens did try to get a bond set for me. He petitioned to the court that Whittemore’s Bonding Company on the corner of Third and Charlotte had agreed to bond me. But the judge denied it.
I left out of the courtroom that day with little to no hope. The lawyer they gave me didn’t really have that much to say. I thought about a lot of things that day—the first time I had thought that much in years. My eyes filled with tears as I thought about Mama and Virgil. I would have given anything if they were here. As that metal key turned the lock of my cell, little did I know what lay ahead for me. The only comforting thing I knew was the prayer Mama taught me—Now I Lay me Down to Sleep. It had been a long time since I had prayed it.
I tried to go to sleep, but I couldn’t; I had too much on my mind. Tossing back and forth, “Why, Lord,” I thought. “Why me?” Virgil always said that the Lord would watch out for you and help you, if you trust him. I couldn’t help but wonder where he was now, where he had been. I didn’t seem the same anymore. The next two weeks would be the longest and most worrisome two weeks in my life.
I was lying in my bunk facing the wall when I heard the metal key noisily enter the lock. The squeaky cell door opened as the guard told me to get up. Then the other guard with him placed chain cuffs around my ankles. As I turned, they pulled my hands behind my back and cuffed me. Those very moments I had every thought that had ever raced through my mind. As the guard turned me about, I walked out and down the hall. If there was any hope left, it was all gone. Who would care about a homeless man who had nothing nor would leave anything behind?
There are times when I am alone that I still cry for Mama. No one knew it, but Virgil did. I still recall, after all this time, her gentle caress and the soothing voice that told me everything would be alright. I close my eyes sometimes and I can see the smile on her face as of time long ago. But there is one thing I have seen countless times, but I don’t see it now. She cries no more.
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sp; The news media were standing outside of the courtroom as we entered. The courtroom was packed. As I looked about I saw no one that I knew. I felt so alone and abandoned. I had a bad feeling, a very bad feeling.
Suddenly the court officer spoke up, “All rise.” As the judge entered the chambers he continued, “Hear ye, hear ye, the criminal court of Davidson County is now in session, Honorable Judge Daniel Warren presiding. You may be seated.”
As the judge slammed the gavel down, he welcomed everyone. Then the court officer spoke up again, “The Commonwealth State of Tennessee vs. Paul Howard Jenkins docket #399872-01.”
From the sound of the gavel to the opening remarks of the attorneys little do I remember of what happened after that. Both sides presented their case and as the time passed, I was losing ground. On the fourth day of the trial, the jury deliberated. It only took then one hour and a half to reach a verdict. The courtroom was silent as the jury returned.
“Have you reached a verdict?” asked the judge.
“Yes, your honor, we have,” replied the jury foreman.
Then he handed the verdict to the bailiff, who handed it to the judge. The judge looked at it, and it was handed back to the foreman to read aloud.
“You may read the verdict,” requested the judge.
“The jury finds the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree on all six counts, guilty of tampering with evidence, guilty of interfering with an investigation, and guilty of six counts of felony thief of a corpse.”
Then the judge thanked the jury and dismissed them.
My heart stopped. That moment I prayed that it would never start up again. But it did. The courtroom was filled with mixed feeling and emotion. Two who were very uneasy were Detective Tinsley and Detective Stephens. From the very beginning they had had bad feelings about it all.
Then the judge slammed the gavel down and called the courtroom to order. As the crowd slowly quieted down the judge turned to me and said, “Paul Howard Jenkins you have heard the verdict of your peers.”
I didn’t say a word.
Then he picked up the gavel once more and said, “Sentencing hearing will be in two weeks. You are held without bond. Court is adjourned.”
As they led me away, I looked at the faces in the courtroom. I knew at that moment if the world should stand another ten thousand years, I would never see my accusers again.
The governor was out playing golf when the messenger from the D.A. came to him and told him that I was found guilty. Within hours the murder charges held against him were dismissed, but he now was facing preliminary hearing on the other charges against him, possibly impeachment.
The two detectives, Tinsley and Stephens, went to the police chief and asked him could they stay on the case. There were a lot of loose ends that were yet to be explained. Some of the evidence on Bubba’s defense that was not allowed in court, and there are other questionable things. After consideration the chief disagreed.
He stated, “Too much of the taxpayer’s money had already been used on this case. But,” he said, “You can do it on your own time. I can’t say anything about that.”
They agreed.
“First let’s get him a new attorney.”
“I know just the man,” said Tinsley. “William Randy Calaway.”
“Good choice,” replied Stephens. “Let’s go by and see Bubba first.”
“Good idea,” replied Tinsley.
When they got to my cell they found me very disturbed, withdrawn, and depressed. They spent the next two hours talking with me about the case. When they left, I did seem to cheer up. I’ll never forget what they said as they were leaving. I looked up at both of them and smiled.
I said, “Virgil always said when the Lord closes one door he will open another.”
From the look in my eyes, they both knew I was innocent. Then they went over to see Randy, but he was going to be out of town a few days. They hated to wait because time was crucial to them.
The morning that Randy was to come back, word came that Johnathan J. Owens had been found dead. When they arrived on the scene, they began to ask questions. According to the coroner’s brief statement it looked like he died of alcohol poisoning. As the detectives wrapped up, they headed over to Randy’s. He was on his way out; luckily we caught him. They asked him if he could give them a few minutes.
He replied, “Sure.”
They explained to him about the situation and Bubba. He was already familiar with a lot of the case. He had been following it closely. He himself said it looks like everyone wants an escape goat to get the Nashville murders behind them. They asked if he would be interested in taking the case.
He replied, “Sure, I’ll do it bono. I believe they have the wrong man. I’ll come by the jail this evening and talk with him.”
“See you there,” they replied.
That evening they all met at the jail. They all had a long talk and a cry. Within the next few days they worked as a team, getting things ready for the appeal bond to petition a new trial for Bubba. It looked like a lot of the loose ends were coming together to our advantage.
Meanwhile, word around town was the feds were coming down on the governor. More and more evidence was piling up against him. Probably it will be either impeachment or step down. Jail time is questionable.
Once again, they came to my cell and got me. Once again my shadow lurked in the courtroom.
“Will the defendant Paul Howard Jenkins rise and face the judge?” said the bailiff.
“Mr. Jenkins, after careful consideration of your case, the conclusion of my finding, which has been hard, is to sentence you to life without parole. Do you have anything to say?” he asked.
“I don’t want to go to prison,” I cried.
“May I address the court?” Randy asked. “Your honor he had only been retained for a short time. We are working on an appeal for a new trial. We would like to petition the court, considering the circumstantial evidence against my client, for a lesser sentence.”
“I understand, counsel, your burden for your client. But he has been found guilty, and I have already made my unchangeable decision, life without parole. Mr. Jenkins will be taken to Stoney Point State Prison, Patterson Road in Jackson County. There you will remain the rest of your life.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” I cried out pleading mercy from the court.
Then the deputies led me away. With every step I made as I left the courtroom that day, my heart grew harder and harder. Randy told me to hang on and trust him, that he would get an appeal as soon as he could. Little did I know as I looked out of the window of the police car that would be my last time to see the free world.
At four o’clock that same day, we listened as Governor Thurman Towns resigned as the governor of the state of Tennessee. The newsman went on to say that the charges against the governor have been dropped to a lesser charge, putting him on probation for the next twenty-five years. The plea bargain was reached today from the D.A. office and the FBI. The whole state was shocked. Some even made the comment that the governor should have gotten life without parole and Bubba should have gotten probation.
Randy and the detective worked hard day and night, going back over the case time and time again. They did a deep search into every nook and cranny. There was not a stone left unturned. Meanwhile weeks passed and Bubba was now housed at Stoney Point.
It was hard for me to get adjusted to prison life. I felt like a caged animal being poked by everyone. I didn’t know if I could make it. But I guess I had no choice. If there ever was a hell on earth that Virgil talked about I was in it now.
Weeks passed as Tinsley and Stephen raced for time. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, they got their first break in the new investigation. They found out that the two prostitutes that were killed were connected with ex-Governor Towns. Our sources, through select interviews with prostitutes off Dickerson Road, say they ha
d seen Towns and his friend pick up the ladies many times. The more they dug into Towns’ background, they uncovered a conspiracy to frame Bubba. One of the ladies that were found dead was a young lady from Vanderbilt, a communications student fascinated by high crimes. Our investigation uncovered that she had found out about the two prostitutes being killed, and the governor had put a hit out on her. Another woman was an ex-girlfriend of Towns and was going to blackmail him. Her best friend was also a victim who, after the death of her friend, threatened to go to the FBI with what she knew. But before she could go she was killed.
“How could we make such a blunder? This judgmental case literally was that of blinded truth of innocent to be proven guilty. But, the real price of it all we found in the murder of Towns’ granddaughter. It proved that the mafia had her killed by Jimmy Lee.
But Ex-governor Towns had Jimmy Lee killed. The overwhelming evidence was in the name of the killer of them all. His name was Ace Jenkins, Bubba’s daddy. Ace was a half brother to Ex-governor Towns. Towns got him to do all the dirty work. When he had killed Bubba’s mama, Towns got him out of town and took care of him. Later on, as things died down, he came back and by night he was a stalker for Towns’ prey.
An APB was put out on Ace Jenkins. It would take them a few days to find him. He was tracked down in Atlanta stealing a car and was expedited back to Nashville for seven counts of murder including his wife.
They had enough evidence for a retrial and enough to put Towns in prison for a long time. Randy, the two detectives, and the investigating team’s hard work had paid off. And when they took the new evidence to the state attorney’s office, Judge Warren and D.A. Franklyn came forth and told of Towns whole conspiracy theory for framing Bubba and how it was done. The two men were arrested and charged and are now in jail. They agreed to turn states evidence for a lesser verdict. The state attorney’s office issued a warrant for the arrest of Towns.
Back at the prison things had gotten worse. Since I’d been there, I had been raped twice, beaten up I don’t know how many times, stabbed, and suffered broken bones. It had been a while since I had smiled, nor even laughed as I used to do. This is one of the most hopeless places I can ever imagine. Death is thick in the air. It’s stale and stinks of flesh. I don’t know what to do. My thoughts are heavy, my heart feels no more. I don’t understand it all, my life and all that has come along. But I’m tired, weak and weary. I wish I could die. God is that so bad?
Randy went to the new governor and filled him. The governor called for a meeting with the pardon and parole board. With the new evidence, the board and the governor agreed for a new trial, and, even better, the governor called Stoney Point to have Bubba released, a free man. But when the warden went to his cell to get him, they found Bubba hanging from a pipe in his cell. He was dead. In minutes the warden called the governor back. Everyone was there celebrating Bubba’s liberty. When the phone rang his secretary came in.
“Sir, it’s Warden Thompson from Stoney Point.”
“Oh, yes,” he replied, “thanks. Hello, warden.”
Then there was silence. Everyone knew something had happened. Fear smothered the room as the governor slowly hung up.
“They found Bubba. He hung himself. He is dead. The warden also said that he had left a note on his bed, the words to a prayer—Now I Lay me Down to Sleep.”
*****
About the Author
Bobby A. Troutt is a southern writer who enjoys writing about southern living, mystery, crime, and suspense. To read more of Bobby’s stories, visit www.bobbysbooks.8m.com
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