Chapter 15: Preparing the Breastworks

Once in his chambers, Judge Rule turned and said, “Roycealee, Peter, Joe Bob, anybody want a drink? Sweet tea? Jack and branch water? Some of Pappy Smith’s ‘shine? No? Well, we’ve got big problems. This smells bad enough to gag a maggot! Y’all get that feelin’ too, don’t you?”

Roycealee frowned and told him, “I’ve had a bad feeling for quite a while, but I never could get it to jell. Y’all both think we have a white slavery ring operating - at least sex trafficking, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately, I do. Drugs, too most likely,” Judge Rule responded. “Y’all agree, Joe Bob?”

“Sure as shit stinks ... oops, sorry Roycealee,” he apologized. “Sounds like kids are involved, too. Bull’s sports teams, maybe former teams. Likely that dog’s been huntin’ for a while.”

“We’ll probably know tomorrow or the day after,” Rule told them. “Bet there’ll be a pot full of high-priced, slick Yankee lawyers turning up real soon. Let’s throw them off by acting like a bunch of slow country rednecks.”

He turned to Roycealee and said, “When you get back to the school make copies of anything you can. Then give the originals to Joe Bob’s boys and girls. I also want you to look hard to see if there is evidence or even a hint that Bob’s statement about his grade can be substantiated. Get Miz Perkins to help.”

“Peter?” he asked, “This’s got to be clean. You reckon young Melba is sleeping with Bob yet?”

“Oh Hell yes!” Uncle Pete replied. “Up until she married Odell, she was their regular sitter from the time Bob was a pup and Susan a kitten. I know for a fact the three shared the Quayles’ king bed while they were gone on weekends, and I’m just as sure they cuddle up now. BUT, if you’re asking if she’s fucking him - not a chance - ‘scuse me Roycealee. Even if they were magnets attractin’, she isn’t about to do anything to jeopardize getting her pound of flesh from Odell. After the divorce, then maybe.”

“Okay, but to be on the safe side, put a bug in all their ears about underage sex,” he grimaced, “Truthfully, at their ages and Susan’s, I’m not really against it, but we need to protect them. And get Susan on birth control!”

“So, Roycealee,” the judge’s attention swung back to the principal, “Just like I don’t tell Joe Bob how to sheriff - not much anyways - I’m not about to tell you how to principal. Much ... but I have some suggestions.”

“Okay you old fart... ‘scuse me gents’,” she retorted. “Out with it!”

“Protecting the kids is a priority, and not just the Quayles, all the kids. Inside, from outside, from adults, and from other kids, too. Something’s going on. Something dangerous!” He sighed, then continued, “That passel of dimwits on the school board saddled you with a zero-tolerance rule. That’s bad enough in normal times - useless as tits on a boar hog. Someone being attacked, ganged up on, can’t defend himself - herself.” He added, “can’t even push an attacker away without getting expelled, too. The bullies know it. Use it.”

“So, as part of my amended protection order, I’m going to give you some tools. They’ll be specific to the Quayles, but with enough wiggle that you can use them in myriad other ways.” He looked her in the eyes and told her, “Roycealee, I’ve known you since before we played doctor in your Cousin Roy’s storage shed. I trust you to know when and how, and I’ll back you all the way.”

“The Quayles are allowed to defend themselves, physically if warranted, but only in reaction. They may not strike first. I’m not condoning or advocating violence, but neither will I allow them to be physically abused because of that stupid rule. Any actual or threat of violence is to be reported to me and Joe Bob immediately.” He thought for a moment to get his wording right, “The ‘no cell phone’ rule will not apply to them. They may carry and use any recording device they choose. I prefer cell phones. They can take pictures. Call for help.”