Chapter 1

Bull---It’s been a little over two years since that situation with Jimbob and his wife came up. I’m driving my second new Ford 4-wheel drive pick-up. That’s the deal, a new truck every couple of years. Jimbob is happy, I’m happy, Sue is not very happy. She was released from prison last month and the first thing she did was to go out to Jimbob’s house to see Jimbob. Well Jimbob’s new wife, a short little heavy set girl (I’m being nice, she is as fat as Jimbob) called me.

I picked Sue up and reminded her that she was not allowed around the kids by herself or within a 1,000 feet of Jimbob. I could have made a big deal about it but I did not. Sue looks pretty damn good. She got lots of exercise and a good tan while serving her time. I checked on her every now and then and had found out her and her cellmate had developed a really friendly relationship. Know what I mean? I figure I’ll ‘help’ her out a little and she will owe me. I’ll take her up to the cabin with one of my girlfriends and watch her put on a show! My fantasy.

It never happened.

Sue saw the kids a couple of times then moved back home to the southern part of the state to care for her sick mother. I never saw her again.

It was late one night when I got the call. There had been a shooting at a new house up in the northern part of the county. I did not know the people but from what I had heard they are from Chicago and had moved down here to get out of the cold and away from the crime. Watching the house built I figured they had money so I had checked around and found out that it was the grandad who had the money. His was what you call ‘old money’. And he had lots of it. The old man still lived in Chicago on Lakeside drive. That property alone is worth millions!

The house his son built was huge! Porches all around and two stories. The garage was bigger than my house! There were also stables in the back.

My one detective, Phil Marlow, was there when I arrived. I walked up on the porch and saw JR Brooks lying in a pool of blood. He was dead with a bullet hole in his head.

“What happened here,” I asked. Phil nodded to Mr. Hunter Williams, the homeowner.

“We were asleep when there was this banging on the front door. Being new here and so far from the police station (he should have said Sheriff’s Office but he grew up in the city) I answered it with my pistol in hand.” He motions towards a .45 caliber auto that my detective is holding.

“I saw JR thru the window. I know him so I opened the door and stepped out on the porch to find out what he wanted. He started screaming about me not allowing him to date my 15 year old daughter. Hell he is what 24 or 25 years old?”

“He was 23,” says Phil.

“Still that is too old to date a 15 year old.”

“I agree so what happened?”

“He had been drinking and would not listen to what I had to say. He kept getting louder and louder so I asked him to leave. He did not and just kept on screaming. Again I ordered him to leave and he pushed me. I fell on that table and it broke.”

I looked over at the table and it was broken.

“He started to kick me and I shot him. Then I called the police department.” He called the Sheriff’s Department, not the Police.

“Sounds like self-defense to me. Is the coroner on his way?”

“Yes, but can I talk to you in private?” My detective has a troubled look on his face.

We walk out to my car.

“Bull, I know that sounds like what might have happened but that’s not what the evidence tells me.

“Go on.”

“He says he was laying on the ground and JR was about to kick him. I don’t think that is the truth. JR was shot in the side of the head and his brains are on that porch column behind Mr. Williams. If he was shot from the ground like Mr. Williams says Jr’s brains would be on the ceiling.”

“So? Who shot JR?” (Author---Sorry I just could not resist. “Dallas” 1980, remember?).

“I’m thinking one of the other family members. Dad is trying to take the blame.”

“Where are they?”

“In the living room.”

“Do you have your GSR (gunshot residue) kit in the car?”

“Of course.”

“Get it and follow me.”

We walked back up on the porch and I ordered the other deputies to seal off the entire house as a crime scene. I asked Mr. Williams if we could enter his house and he agreed. There in the living room was his wife, a real looker, his 17 year old son and his 15 year old daughter. Wow! That girl had on her pajamas, little short shorts and a top that was straining to hold those 34-d cup breasts in check. I can see why JR wanted to date her.

I start off real nice.

“I am so sorry you had to see this. I will have the body removed and the porch cleaned up as soon as the coroner gets here. Your father says JR was arguing with him over you. Did you know JR?”

She looks at her mother.

“Go ahead. Tell the Sheriff.”

“We met when he delivered some lumber for the stables. He was cute and we talked. He asked me out and I told him my parents did not allow me to date. But I did give him my cell phone number. We texted and talked a lot for the last couple of weeks. But I never went out with him.”

I turned to the mother. “Did you know JR.?

“I knew who he was. I never talked to him. Becky did tell me he asked her out but I know she never went with him. I did not know they were texting.”

“I did!” shouted the brother.

“I caught him talking to her and ordered him to stop. I told him he was nothing but white trash and my sister would never go out with him.” This kid is a real hot head, I decide to keep him talking.

“How did JR take to being called white trash?”

“He laughed at me and told me to go back to the house or he would whip my ass. Becky laughed at me.”

He is mad! So mad he is shaking. About that time one of the deputies comes in and says that he had found the round that killed JR. it was embedded in the porch column! Exactly like Phil had speculated.

What all this means is that JR was shot from the doorway not from the ground as Mr. Williams had tried to convince us. I look at the three of them. I figure that neither the girl or the mother would be able to handle that .45. The only one left is the boy.

“Test the boy’s hands.”

The detective takes the boy by his right hand and wipes a cloth over it.

“Positive.”

“Now test the father.”

“Negative.”

“Ronald Williams you are under arrest for the murder of JR. Brooks.”

The boy is handcuffed and led out to a squad car in his pajamas. Both his mother and father are protesting.

“Do something! Don’t let these rubes take my son to jail!”

Rubes! That’s going to cost her.

“At least let him get dressed.”
“He’ll be booked and given a jumpsuit as soon as we get to the jail.”

“When will his bail be set?”

“He’ll go before a judge on Monday afternoon. But in murder cases like these he will be held without bond until his trial.”