Black, White, and RED All Over, part 5-- Ironwood Hamilton from #freewrite in an extended story!
Thank you, thank you, thank you yet again, @freewritehouse, for making me the adoptee of the week! In addition to my keeping up my daily content, I am also presenting an expanded story featuring my detective that I introduced to you in past freewrites -- Captain Ironwood Hamilton is hard at work in now part 5 of "Black, White, and RED All Over," which you get today!
Okay, we are at a major turning point -- here are parts one, two, three, and four -- if you've been reading along, you'll know that the coming of the Lofton County Free Voice newspaper has caused great excitement among the Black and White communities of Lofton County, VA, and that the paper's demand for information about police handling on Black citizens has caused great consternation and even one bout of illness among Captain Hamilton's colleagues in the local town and county police departments -- yet to this point, folks have been seeing "red" but no crime has yet been committed.
Yet, here in part 5, we finally get to meet the brave, passionate men behind the Lofton County Free Voice, and after that, the crime is announced -- it's not too subtle and yet not too obvious, so you'll either catch it or be as surprised as everyone else in the end, but you can't lose either way!
All right -- here's the usual dividing graphic that I made -- you enjoy following the advance clues while I go finish writing parts 6 and 7... I know how it ends, but, I have to get it just right for everyone...
How it could be that the African in America was considered less than human, or less than handsome, eluded the mind of Ironwood Hamilton, never more than when looking upon men such as James Varick IV, the editor-in-chief of the Lofton County Free Voice. Certainly he had all the features Southern white men had been taught to despise – skin the color of glowing coal, black and yet luminous; broad forehead, dark eyes, broad nose, full, heavy lips. He also had the features those same white men also had always feared; he was six feet five, and every inch a fit giant of about 45 years of age. In a physical contest without weapons, he might do as he pleased with nearly any opponent.
Mr. Varick also had what Southern white men hated the most in black men: brimming masculine confidence, as befit a man walking into the enemy's headquarters to receive the enemy's surrender. He was the walking embodiment of the dashing of the Founders' plans for black men, and the failure of their Confederate sons to secure those plans – Mr. James Varick IV was every inch a man, and his presence forced one to acknowledge him as such.
At Mr. Varick's side was another man, perhaps 15-20 years younger, but also impressive – six feet tall, lithe as a graceful bronze statue, with similar features – a relative, perhaps – but with a more pointed make. He also brimmed confidence, but also something more … intense anger, of a much higher order that Captain Hamilton had encountered in Mr. Thomas Stepforth Sr. at their first meeting (which is saying a lot -- check out the "Glass Bottle" freewrite!).
The younger man was the embodiment of the hate that 400 years of hate, and ten years of injustice to be discussed that day, had created. His lip curled in contempt as he looked on Captain Hamilton, and still more as his eye registered the all-too-familiar features of Captain Lee, who had returned to Tinyville to observe on behalf of Big Loft and Lofton County. His fist clenched, as if every statue of Robert E. Lee that could not be knocked down in Virginia might instead be at least given a black eye if he could but get to Captain Lee's quite similar face. However, Captain Lee ignored him with marble precision after looking him over once, which angered him even more.
“Good morning, Mr. James Varick IV and Mr. Nathan Turner,” Captain Hamilton said.
“Good morning, Captain Hamilton and Captain Lee,” the two men answered.
“Rest yourselves and sit down wherever you like – would you like coffee, tea, orange juice...?”
“While we appreciate the hospitality, Captain,” Mr. Varick said, “we have a paper to get together. Shall we get down to business?”
“Very well; as you like,” Captain Hamilton said.
Mr. Varick pulled out his digital recorder, turned it on, and put it on Captain Hamilton's desk as Mr. Turner pulled out his notebook.
“Of course we are on the record, Captain.”
“Of course, Mr. Varick.”
Captain Hamilton pointed out his digital recorder, already on (and Mr. Turner started slightly), and then inclined his head toward Captain Lee, who was taking notes as well.
“Write what you will about me,” Captain Hamilton said with a cool smile, “but you won't be able to say I don't believe in equality of access to information, and of keeping good records on all sides.”
Mr. Turner bristled visibly, but Mr. Varick smiled back.
“Given your record since you have taken over, I expected no less from you, Captain. But speaking of equal access to information, we are here to receive your response to the Lofton County Free Voice's FOIA request, with any details you might find of importance.”
Captain Hamilton reached into his desk's bottom drawer, and pulled out five thick folders.
“These are copies of the reports and cases involving African Americans in Tinyville for the last ten years. Each folder holds two years of data. Nothing has been redacted or withheld. I have added an index, and I have sorted them based on type of incident for ease of use.”
Mr. Varick and Mr. Turner received the files, and took their time examining them in detail. Captain Hamilton watched their expressions: surprise at the amount of data released, anger, sorrow, surprise, chagrin, even a sad chuckle from Mr. Varick with a head shake, and then surprise as they realized – .
“This appears to be complete,” Mr. Varick said.
“It is,” Captain Hamilton said. “Given that you have more staff to devote to exploration of the data than I have, there may be things you discover that I am not yet aware of, but I stand ready at any time to answer any questions you may have about the data.”
Mr. Turner had been carrying a big suitcase; at a nod from Mr. Varick, the reporter put the files into the suitcase and snapped it shut.
“I also have something else of interest to you,” Captain Hamilton said as he opened the top drawer of his desk. “This is a formal apology from me, on behalf of this department, for the injustices committed against the African American community in Tinyville and its surroundings in the last ten years I am aware of.”
Mr. Varick started; Mr. Turner scarcely restrained his lip from curling.
“Are the three lieutenants responsible for much of the data you have turned over on administrative leave, or fired?” Mr. Turner asked.
“Fired,” Captain Hamilton said. “Owing to the size of the town, I am captain, chief, and commissioner. My personnel decisions can only be overturned by the city council or the mayor, and they have declined to overturn the firings.”
“Are you aware of the county's attempts to reassign them to other positions in law enforcement in the county?”
“I am.”
“And your position on that is?”
“My position is that men who so clearly have no interest in the proper working of law and justice should never be allowed any position of community responsibility and authority again until they have brought forth fruits worthy of repentance. My position is known in every law enforcement office in the county where these men have applied.”
“Is there data supporting the prosecution of these men for criminal misconduct?”
“There is.”
“What have you done in that direction?”
“I have submitted the appropriate evidence to the county prosecutor, with the supporting evidence. The county prosecutor has declined the case.”
Mr. Turner gritted his teeth, but subsided as Mr. Varick gave him a concerned but cautioning look, and then spoke.
“Is there anything else that you can do?”
“Not in that direction, no. But I have another idea, and I hope that you will consider assisting me with it.”
Mr. Varick raised a salt-and-pepper eyebrow, even as Mr. Turner's eyes lit up and his face clearly said, “NO!”
“In those files you will discover at least 48 cases in which it is very likely that those committed should have their convictions vacated and their cases dismissed. My request is that you will not publicize the details of those cases in mass.”
“What!” Mr. Turner said. “The most damning thing on your accursed travesty of a department, and you want it withheld!”
“Let's hear him out,” Mr. Varick said. “We can always say no, Nathan – we already have the data.”
“Then why are we wasting our time with this – this –!”
He was so angry he could no longer speak, and subsided as Mr. Varick spoke again.
“I am really in consensus with Mr. Turner,” he said, “but, we'll hear you out.”
“When you have examined the data, you will observe what I observe; there are at least 48 men in jail or prison who should be exonerated. I have already been in contact with Virginia's branch of the Innocence Project up at the University of Virginia at Charlottesville, and apprised them of as much of the situation as I can, within the constraints of my position. I am willing to support your efforts, with theirs, to have the men in question exonerated; I will cooperate fully.
“However, with the exoneration of the innocent we surely must see that 48 people, or at least enough to account for those cases, have been living free in the community for at least ten years. My interest as police captain is to bring the truly guilty parties to justice. I have already begun my investigations in that direction. If you were to release all the information about those 48 cases, the truly guilty parties will know they are again in danger, and will destroy what little evidence remains to convict them, or flee.”
“That's your problem, Hamilton,” Mr. Turner gritted. “It's your problem that your former colleagues thought it was a good idea to put innocent men and their families through ten years of suffering and let the guilty run free. We want full exoneration in the eyes of the law and the community for the innocent; we don't care about embarrassing you and your department.”
“With all due respect, Mr. Turner, that is very short-sighted,” Captain Hamilton said. “Your community is part of Tinyville. It has suffered from further crimes, and likely lost more innocent men to jail and prison owing to the actions of people who were not caught and were thus emboldened to continue their behavior. Assuming they are moving around the county, the truly guilty are likely also responsible for crimes that have created occasion for false arrests elsewhere in the county – and although in Tinyville I follow the most stringent standards of investigation, I cannot do anything outside Tinyville unless called by the county to do so.”
“He's got a point,” Mr. Varick said.
“You can't be serious, Uncle!” Mr. Turner cried.
“I'm not asking you to suppress the information permanently,” Captain Hamilton said. “My plan is to work these cases as best I can such that by the time you and the Innocence Project have worked to free the innocent men, I can quickly catch up those who should have been in prison all this time. If I can't, I'll take the humiliation of not being able to provide that element of full exoneration that only I can: the capture and presentation to the force of law and justice of the truly guilty, so that the last of the stigma that the victims and their families and the region would otherwise still attach to the exonerated can fall away.”
“In other words, drip the information on each individual case slowly, so that the guilty parties don't know you are coming.”
“Yes,” Captain Hamilton said. “There has been a triple injustice done: to the innocent men, their families, and their portion of Tinyville's community; to the families of the victims, who think they have received justice but have not; and to the community at large because my department chose to indulge its racism instead of bringing the guilty to face justice. It is my opinion that as much should be repaired as possible, and if you will help me, I think we can.”
“No!” Mr. Turner thundered. “You are not going to co-opt the Lofton County Free Voice to your ideas of justice! I won't stand for it! We are not going to make yet another unholy alliance with a system that has done nothing but work to destroy Africans in America for 400 years! No! No!”
The anger and the pain upon Mr. Turner's face was vivid as he rose from his chair, his fists raised as if he would dash the life from Captain Hamilton.
“Sit down, Nathan,” Mr. Varick said, through gritted teeth. “We're in a police station and you've lost track of one of them – sit down and control yourself!”
Indeed, Captain Lee had drawn his weapon, although he had not taken the safety off yet.
Mr. Turner regained his tactical awareness, and sat down, but his seething rage had only changed position.
“The blood of my brother and many others already cry out from the soil of Tinyville to the Lord against this department!” he cried. “But you already should know that, Captain Hamilton – do you think your miserable paddy-rolling department deserves any cooperation from us? We don't want to help you work your system – it has never worked for us! You deserve nothing of our assistance – all that your people did not take from us by force in 246 years of slavery, 100 years of Jim Crow, and 60 years of permitted criminal misconduct, you may never willingly have! Do you understand me? You deserve nothing!”
“I know that,” Captain Hamilton said, very quietly.
“What did you say?” Mr. Turner gritted.
In the next instant, you could have heard a pin drop.
“I said, I know that I deserve nothing, as the head of this department. Mercy is always undeserved. But that is what I am asking for, on behalf of the whole community we have to live in. There is no other organization beside this department that can go track down the truly guilty. There is no guarantee that is can be done; there is only a decent chance. You do not have to give it to me. I, and this department, do not deserve it. I am asking for mercy on behalf of the entire town, although much of it has been merciless to you and yours for 400 years, and I submit that the mercy you show will also be of great benefit to you and yours, in both greater public safety and the completion of the work of exoneration for the innocent.”
Silence, for a long time, and then Mr. Varick spoke in a calm, authoritative voice.
“The Lofton County Free Voice has a team of editors, and you are not on it, Captain,” he said. “But neither are you, Nathan, although of course your opinion holds much more weight with the team. The deciding factor must be the greater good of the constituency we are primarily concerned with. The 72 percent of this town you represent by your heritage has made a hard bed for itself with its injustices, Captain, and it is not our primary concern to help you solve that problem. However, we are interested in the full exoneration of the innocent, and in public safety for the town because we live here, and are going to take an even more active role in it. Therefore, the editorial staff will consider your request.”
“That is all I ask,” Captain Hamilton said. “Thank you. I will pursue the 48 cases in any event, and it is also in my interest, because in the interests of justice, to see the innocent parties fully exonerated.”
“You shall be given plenty of occasion to assist with that, Captain,” said Mr. Varick, “and we will be right along with you to witness it, and report on it.”
“I expect no less, gentlemen,” said Captain Hamilton. “You have certainly impressed me with the investment you are making in the discourse and direction of this town's affairs.”
Mr. Varick smiled thinly.
“We are 28 percent of the population of Tinyville, 39 percent of Lofton County. We are delayed in making that impression, but not denied. We do not intend to ever be denied again.”
“You have certainly impressed me with the fact, gentlemen.”
Mr. Varick reached over and turned off his digital recorder, and Mr. Turner completed his notes. Mr. Varick stood first, then Captain Hamilton, then Captain Lee, and then Mr. Turner, who put his notebook in the suitcase before moving.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” Captain Hamilton said.
“Good morning, Captains,” the two news men said.
They strode off, data in hand, a passionate discussion commencing when they thought they were out of earshot – but not quite.
Passing up the street, coming also to see Captain Hamilton, was Captain Bragg, apparently in the middle of a conversation –.
“Smash those fools like rusted tin cans, now that we've got a line on them –.”
He had walked into the middle of the office while saying that, and then jumped – “Oh, sorry, y'all, on the phone – hey, let me get back to you on that. Thanks.”
And he reached up and touched his Bluetooth, and shut it off – almost. The little blue light at the top kept blinking, a phenomenon that seemed to fascinate Captain Lee so much that it attracted Captain Hamilton's gaze as well …
“I was passing through on my way up to Big Loft and I thought I'd stop by and let you know where I am on this whole FOIA foolishness, Captain Hamilton, but wasn't that some folks from that rag now, just leaving you?”
“Yes.”
“Got them arguing among themselves with the line you took, I take it – good job! A little more of that from you, and we'll be able to get this whole mess settled down, combined with what I am doing.”
“Which is?”
“I've been in the county and Big Loft's ear all morning, and I've got my people going through the records. We've found out some things: old Angler [Captain Angler of Smallwood] was right. There's enough data to drown a small paper – we just have to do the sort so they the things we want hidden stay hidden. Everybody already knows there's racial profiling, and a majority of the people of this county support it – so, let the rag whine, and blow off steam until there's some other news for them to focus on!”
Captain Bragg's blue eyes gleamed brightly, by contrast to the cooler light in Captain Hamilton's eye, and voice.
“I agree with the idea of a full release, with some tweaks to the methodology.”
“Well, of course you do!” Captain Bragg said. “Any sensible person – anyway, we are all following Angler's lead in the next few days, so if you could go ahead and get moving, Hamilton –.”
“Consider it done, Captain Bragg.”
Captain Bragg smiled gently.
“Do you know what I like about you, Captain Hamilton?” he said.
“No.”
“You've been home three months, and you didn't come home presuming to leadership because you've been around the world and done this and that. Even though some of your ideas are ridiculous in terms of how to deal with the minorities in this town and county, at least you work with those who know better in a productive way! You are really good at facilitating and working with those who have had to hold the line for law and order down here while you have been away. You don't presume to leadership where you don't deserve it and haven't earned it. ”
“In my experience,” Captain Hamilton said, “time and circumstances reveal the quality of a leader, and he will rise to the top in his time.”
“Exactly. As men of thought go, Hamilton, you have a lot of good sense. I'm considering your release done, and I'm off to Miniopolis. Two days from now, think of that whole rag's staff, all sitting in one place, overwhelmed by that load of kindling we're giving them, waiting on the next news – oh, it's a thought that warms the heart!”
Off he went, having never even acknowledged Captain Lee, who in turn never acknowledged him, but persisted in working on his notes until Captain Bragg turned his back. Captain Lee noiselessly rose and followed Captain Bragg into the street, and watched, until …
“Captain Bragg is parked around the far corner,” he said.
“I'm glad you thought of all that,” Captain Hamilton said as he at last turned off his recorder.
“Why not?” Captain Lee said grimly. “He may indeed have hit on a solution to several things of your interest, and that of this county.”
Captain Lee went over to the copy machine and made copies of his notes to leave with the Tinyville captain, and the Tinyville captain turned his attention to the report Lieutenant O'Reilly had left about his call that morning, and the update he had just sent in. When he looked up, Captain Lee was standing at his desk, his normally composed face covered with emotion.
“I would applaud you – I would cheer you for how you have conducted yourself this morning, except that I know that it is the Spirit of God within you that has led you through this morning in this amazing way, and Who must get the glory for what is done and yet to be done!”
“Amen,” Captain Hamilton said. “I was just thinking the same thing. All praises and glory to God, Who has led me through this treacherous morning and the days that are to come!”
Captain Hamilton stood and reached his hand out to his cousin, who shook it, and then pulled him into his embrace.
“Oh, Ham, if I had given up at any point, I would not have been here this day!”
“I keep telling you, Harry – God wants you here, because there is a lot we can and must still do! Survivor's guilt is a tough thing, but we survived Five Bright Nine because our work wasn't done. Our buddies went to their reward – but we're not finished yet!”
“I see it, Ham – and I'm starting to feel it, just today, here with you. Oh, thank God, thank You, that You never have put up with this Lee's follies any more than You ever did any another! Thank You! Thank You!”
Captain Lee lifted his hands heavenward for just a few moments in worship and praise, and then calmed down.
“I'm due back at my desk at 1:00 – care for some lunch?”
“Lieutenant O'Reilly is bringing it, with a great story that will cheer us right up –.”
“I'm here – and I solved the cow-tipping case!” cried the young lieutenant as he burst in, all fresh air and blue skies and knowing nothing about the heavy work that had been and was still to come in that office.
“And we want to hear all about it!” Captain Hamilton said as Captain Lee smiled and relieved the younger man of his bags of lunch.
After lunch, Captain Hamilton walked his cousin to his car.
“Pull out all you can about theft and grand theft incidents from the FOIA,” he said, “and send me a good summary. I'll do the same for you. My thinking is that the data will suggest both possible answers and good questions.”
“It is going to be interesting, getting those questions asked and answered,” Captain Lee said.
“Oh well,” said Captain Hamilton. “We survived Five Bright Nine, Harry. By comparison, this will be a Sunday School picnic.”
Captain Lee laughed from surprise.
“Forever the optimist!”
“One of us has to be. Virginia already has Big Pappa glowering everywhere, his stone face unable to smile ever again. Terrible thing they've done to him, in making him an idol. And then I have to get you sold on smiling again – so yes, one of us has to be an optimist!”
Captain Lee laughed until he cried.
“Let me out of here before you have me running off the road, laughing! You're a menace to all depression, Ham!”
“Unrepentant and unashamed,” Captain Hamilton said after he closed his cousin's car door and his cousin rolled down the window. “Stay in prayer, and try to get me that information no later than tomorrow afternoon.”
“You'll have it tonight, Lord willing. I'll see you later.”
“Oh – you're coming back to the meetings!”
“I do listen to you, Ham, even if I don't show it.”