Chapter Twenty Nine
My fellow American we are fast approaching the first anniversary of the Atlanta Race Riots. It is a date and headline that each is more of a symbolic than accurate account of the violence and civil unrest that happened here, in and around these grounds where I am standing, one year ago. Nonetheless, we will continue, even today, even at this hour to seek out answers to all of the delicate questions that have arisen over this time period. Granted, some of these questions may linger with us indefinitely. In the meantime, we must revisit the events over the next few days, weeks and years and learn why such animosity swells and flourishes into the tragic undertaking it became. As a nation we must learn from our mistakes. We must adapt and change. Yet, I think that most importantly we must bridge the gap in understanding, respect and tolerance between the two prevalent races in what is still the greatest nation on this planet.
-Anthony Lavell, the second Black President of the United States
Angel
Hubert Park Neighborhood Park; SW Atlanta, March 2012
Christopher said, “I know this place.”
Dr. Angel Hicks Dupree took off her hat and unbuttoned her coat, with what seemed like a daily rainstorm finally ending after a 30 minute downpour. She cautiously limped down the hill towards the playground and angled towards the swings. The weather was warming at its own pace after the rain had passed. The birds were singing and rejoicing. The four Peacekeepers assigned to Christopher’s security detail weren’t so jovial. She knew that they were probably still muttering their complaints and curses after he’d ordered them to allow this conversation between himself and his childhood friend without their interruption.
Seth, to her surprise, had accepted her explanation as well when asked him to stay in the car and wait for her to return. She saw Roxanne raise her eyebrows, hopeful that she would go through with it.
“Of course you recognize it, silly,”
Chris looked as if he were taking it all in again—and for the first time as well.
“This was our place.”
“Yea,” Angel’s smile rivaled her best friend’s. “Yea, a very long time ago this was our place, Christopher.”
“Damn,” He walked around and touched the swings as if he were assuring himself that they were real. “I’m out in this area quite a bit in my work…well at least I used to pass through this neighborhood after a day’s work in the field office. It’s amazing how you look at something every day yet you never actually see it. Damn,” He repeated himself. “How could I almost forget this place was here?”
Christopher took off his coat jacket, rolled up the sleeves and tossed it over a nearby branch. He was looking so fit. He’d kept the weight off since the drastic weight loss he’d started after Serena’s last night on this—
Don’t think about Serena. Don’t think about Lisa Healy…
Unfortunately, she recognized the redness—the dullness that shadowed over his eyes that wasn’t from crying at the ceremony earlier or from lack of sleep.
Angel knew a budding drunk when she saw one.
“Yes, this old girls is still standing, Christopher,” Angel patted the metal in the middle of the slide with some affection. She ended up having to rub the rust off of her fingers. “She’s survived being underfunded, the chaos of the 1996 Olympic Games, two earthquakes and Serena’s Whirlwind that rampaged right down there on Clemons Street.”
Christopher let loose with a low whistle.
Angel knew that it was past time to get on with this. And yet, it was Christopher who beat her to it.
“I’d remembered when you’d walk up to my bedroom window every day during our summer vacation.”
“It wasn’t every day, Christopher.”
“Every day,” He said with some finality. You would lean on my window sill with your hands in motion like this,” He made a pushing motion that Angel recognized almost immediately. She used to use the hand action as a signal to him to come outside and push her on the swings. Of all of the playground equipment, Angel had always loved the swings best.
“I would,” She nodded and her lips boasted a full smile. She sat down on the driest swing she could find. “I especially would do that after getting on your nerves about whatever a preteen gets on the nerve of a teenager about. I’d see you in the bedroom and hit you with the most pathetic gaze I could muster.”
Christopher laughed. It was the most wonderful sound in the world.
“They were pathetic, Doc,”
“I know.” The memory of one specific smile and result brought another smile to her face. “But I would wait for you to motion with your hands like you were doing pushups like I just did and I knew that you would be outside to push me on the swings again. It was always your personal way of letting me know that no matter how much I had aggravated or angered you that you have forgiven me. It was your private way of telling me that everything was alright.”
Chris nodded through her last spill.
“I know, Doc. Believe it or not, I’ve always been hip to your schemes—always sharper than you gave me credit for.”
Angel hugged the iron chains tightly and lifted her weight off the ground.
“Well, Christopher, if you were as smart as you claim to have been, how come you always fell for my act?”
“I didn’t,” Chris smile lid up his dark face and an otherwise murky day. “Okay, it didn’t work every time.”
“Yes, Christopher, it worked every time.”
“Come on, Doc,” He said. “Sometimes I actually wanted to do other things…you know like play basketball with the fellas or go and chase some girls my age or perhaps a little older.”
“Whatever, Christopher,” She replied. “I really think you got some perverse pleasure from purposely keeping my in suspense long after you knew that you would give in once again.”
“Maybe, maybe I did, Angel.” Christopher’s tone had grown more serious. “I’ve always given in to you, even when you did the most screwed up things. That’s how we ended up sleeping together that one time. Yea, you were there for me when I was growing through it after Hoshi passed but—but that shit could have ruined a wonderful friendship.” He shook off something rattling off in his bald head. “I’m always forgiving you for something.” Christopher’s stance had grown almost defensive. “I’ve got this feeling over the past few months that something has been bugging you. Why did you bring me back to place, Angel? What in the hell do you need forgiveness for this time?”
“Would you push me one more time?”
Christopher frowned in confusion, but finally took his familiar place behind her and began to push her higher and higher until her stomach was tying up in tiny knots. It was wonderful. It was terrifying.
It was like it had always been before.
“You need to hear this from me before I take the stand up in Washington DC in front of the Grand Jury tomorrow morning.”
“Are you talking about the final testimony about your role during that small stint you spent with Serena Tennyson and Pandora?”
“Yes,”
“Alright, Doc,” He continued to push her on a rotating basis. “Shoot,”
“I’m responsible for much of Keaton’s acceptance of his Hugh persona. The strength that he’d gained from our psychological sessions probably gave him the push he needed to go with on with his plans to kidnap Moses Jackson and Atlanta’s other’s missing children.”
“We’ve discussed all of this before, Doc,” He said, but his voice rattled in discomfort. “I’d read all of your reports. I know all of this—“
“Then you know nothing, Christopher,” Angel exhaled in exasperation. Chris hands were warm on her back with every push. “When Serena Tennyson recruited me, I was already having therapy sessions with Hugh Keaton. He had been a patient of mine off and on for years. I thought I had been getting to the heart of his ailments. I thought that I needed to engage the Hugh persona if I was going to gain any knowledge or reach any acceptable level for tr
eatment for him. I thought I had rehabbed him.
“And you were at least partly successful, Angel, congratulations.” Yet, Christopher’s tone mocked the words that were coming out of his mouth. “And we all know how this story turned out. While this man was embedded in his Hugh persona, as you call it, he killed Erica in order to help Serena get under my skin. Can we let this go already?”
“There is more, Christopher,” Every word she said was softer than the one that came before it as she stopped her swinging motion and glanced over her shoulder at him. “You need to hear this.”
“No I don’t, Angel, save it. I don’t need to hear another word about him. I love you with all my heart, Angel. You are the sister that I never had. I love Roxanne Sanchez with all of my heart as well. Yet, either one of you will let the past go.” He kicked around some dirt and then he said, “Damn, I need a drink.”
Christopher stormed off towards where he would summon the senior lieutenants of his Peacekeepers to drive him back to his new residence on the city’s far Westside. She knew she was running out of time and opportunity to do this. She had to find the will and courage to resolve this once and for all—“
“Keaton didn’t kill Erica, Christopher.” She had sprinted past him as fast as her gimpy leg would allow her and was facing him down. “Joseph Champion killed your step daughter. And at least part of me knew what both men were capable of before Nicholas Sheridan recruited me to come here to Atlanta to aid in the 411 investigations. My therapy sessions may have been the thing that tipped Keaton’s scales over. My lessons may have directly provoked this man into committing the second round of kidnapping that the world had come to know as the Atlanta Child Abductions and subsequent Murders.”
Christopher took one giant step forward. His neck was bulging and his throat was throbbing.
“What?” The man’s voice went deep and dark with anger. “What in the hell did you just say?”
“I…I knew…or at least I suspected that both were involved in what they both ended up doing. I was torn up about it. I had a lot going on in my life even before your former boss asked me to come here. I had my drinking. I had been a bad wife. Anyway, the night that Joseph Champion had come to see me we had decided to commit to a suicide pact. He claimed to want to end it all. I meant to see it through—at least this time. Yet, as the night went on and the drinking and the sex between us went on…”
“And what about the makeshift scenes that we examined with the dolls that we took for avatars of the missing children,”
“It was Champion again,” She chose the tenor of next sentence carefully. “If you’ll remember back to those days, I strongly suggested to you and the rest of the FBI that Keaton didn’t have the mental make up to create those models that we were left behind for us to find. But there was more: We thought Serena was using Champion but it turns out that it was the other way around. Serena was misguided maybe even a delusional. Champion was something else entirely. He had aligned himself with men like James Carter—with men who had nothing but hatred in their minds and hearts for people of color and always will.” Angel wouldn’t tell Christopher about the true nature of the poison that had taken President Sweet and Mayor Johnson from the face of the earth before their time. She wouldn’t reveal to him what she knew about his plans for a mass extermination of her friend’s race from the planet. If it was written that she would lose his love to protect the lives of potentially millions of others—then that would be what was written. If it she had to sacrifice all of the angels in Heaven to save Heaven itself then so be it.
Christopher still hadn’t opened his mouth to say anything further and it frightened her to the bone.
“Christopher, I’m sorry,”
All he gave her in return was silence.
She tried to rest her hand on one of his shoulders, but he shrugged it off with emphasis.
“Don’t touch me,” He spat out. “Don’t. Touch. Me.”
They both waited the silence out.
“Say something, Christopher,” She finally could stand it no longer. All he did in response was to do a roundabout to avoid her, speeding up faster and faster, while she struggled to keep up the pursuit on her damned gimpy leg. “Tell me that you hate me, Christopher—tell me that you forgive me, but Goddamn you, please don’t leave me like this. Don’t leave me alone. You’re my best friend. You’re the only friend I have in this whole world.”
He shocked her by stopping his motion and spinning around so fast that they nearly knocked foreheads.
“Leave this place, Angel,” He spat words again. Christopher’s people had taken considerable interest in their conversation as it had escalated. Angel saw Roxanne, merely a finely crafted silhouette with her arms crossed in the distance. Seth’s gray eyes were wide-eyed as he worked his way through the park with purpose. Angel could imagine this situation getting out of hand in a hurry. “I want you to walk away from this place while you still can.”
Angel stood in that same block of space for a long time after she heard the car engine driving the only friend she’d ever known away from the park—and out of her life.
Her husband Seth looked like a statue in the park. The shadow that was Roxanne Sanchez finally moved away an inch at a time to comfort the man she loved—and give him space at the same time.
Angel cried.
With the exception of her devoted husband, Seth she knew that Dragon’s prediction of her isolation was all but true. Serena Tennyson had been proven nearly right. Lisa Healy had been proven nearly correct as well.
And yet their gods had been proven wrong—at least for now. There was one silver lining in an otherwise dark room. I only lay down with you, Brad. She had told herself over and again since that day in Memphis. I didn’t have sex with you, Brad.
And if she had, the Gray Man wouldn’t ever know anyhow.
She was getting better. She was better.
Perhaps Christopher would come around after his initial anger had had its say and his true feelings surfaced.
She was alive.
As long as she lived, her redemption was possibly still at hand.
Dr. Angel Hicks Dupree was alive.
And yet, she felt so very alone.
Seth
Congressional Hearing Room 6; Washington, D.C., March 2012
The Grand Jury walked back into the court and took their anointed place to Dr. Seth Dupree’s left.
None of them looked in his or any of the few people who had been allowed to see these proceedings in person. It irked him, just a little, that these 12 people could carry the verdict of a man’s spouse without even having to look at him.
Seth Dupree stood in his accustomed spot in this courtroom as he had in the days since this Grand Jury had convened. Soon after, Angel and her lawyer was a tall drink of water entered the scene and took their familiar places. The federal prosecutor, whose nose hairs were killing time above his top lip, looked confident and stood on the opposite of the room with his hands clamped in front of him. Finally, the judge made it a perfect attendance for all the outstanding parties involved spoke into his mike and informed everyone that they could be seated.
He read through some preliminary instructions to the Grand Jury and when he spoke again he said: “Ms. Chairperson, Have you reached a verdict in the case of the State of Georgia against Dr. Angel Hicks Dupree?”
“We have your honor,”
“Very well,” He said and encouraged the defendant and her lawyer to stand up.
He saw as his wife glanced momentarily in his direction before paying her full attention back to the judge and jury. Seth could feel his heart thumping in his chest. There was no doubt in his mind that his wife had committed wrongdoings—but he didn’t want to see her locked away like some common criminal.
He flashed her one of his best smiles though he truly wasn’t feeling what the smile represented one bit.
And he felt it fade just as quickly as Christopher Prince enters the courtroom. The man’s appearanc
e drew the attention from everyone already seated inside, especially Angel and the judge herself. Why would the new leader of a House in Chains come here? And more importantly, whose guest is he as this invitation only affair of the federal government?
It took four solid minutes for the judge to quiet the room down enough to allow the chairperson to announce that Angel was not guilty on three relatively minor occurrences of conspiracy.
Seth knew that it was time for them all to learn her fate on the more serious offenses.
The judge cleared his voice and studied the verdict before speaking further.
“On the indictment of conspiracy to participate in the kidnapping of six Atlanta minors, with the subsequent loss of lives of two of those children, how do you find?”
“We find the defendant, Dr. Angel Hicks Dupree, not guilty.”
Seth could see his wife literally sigh in relief just as he could feel himself doing the same. Angel’s lawyer flashed his wife a stern look and Seth recognized it immediately: She knows this isn’t over. There is one significant charge left.
“On the indictment of conspiracy to commit terrorist attacks on or against a person or persons of the United States of America on April 11, 2011, how do you find?”
“We find the defendant, Dr. Angel Hicks Dupree,” The Chairperson paused for breath and then said, “We find the defendant guilty.”
Noises, both loud and soft, go through the small crowd in the courtroom. The Judge pounds his gavel repeatedly to retain order in his courtroom. Seth shot out of his seat. Chris Prince’s face was empty of emotion and betrayed little else.
Angel looked ill. She leaned on her lawyer for physical support.
“Dr. Hicks Dupree if you would remain standing,” The Judge said without looking at her.
Angel’s lawyer said, “Judge, on behalf of my client, I respectfully submit to this court that I plan to appeal this verdict to the appellate courts—
The Judge nodded as if he’d heard this motion in his courtroom before.
“This is your right, of course, Counselor,” He finally lifted his bald head from his notes. “But before you waste a perfectly good stamp or courier you may wish to hear me out first.”
“Your Honor,” The Prosecutor’s victorious expression had melted away. “I don’t understand. The Grand Jury has spoken—“
“Counselors, you have done your job, the jury had done theirs based upon the evidence that was presented in front of them.” He said patiently. “I’ll respectfully remind both of you that I am the one who is solely responsible for the sentencing portion of this hearing. In other words, you two would be wise to shut up if you will, sit down if you might, and let me do my job.”
“Yes, sir,” Both lawyers managed to sound magnanimous.
“I have taken into account all of the sworn written, recorded and spoken testimony in this case. I also was given confidential, detailed bureau information about the doctor’s tireless efforts in bringing perpetrators of one of the greatest civil fiasco’s I’ve witnessed in my life.”
“Your Honor,” The Prosecutor overstated the obvious. “This is highly irregular,”
The Judge nodded once.
“You are damned right it is. The key point here is whether it is lawful or not? I can site you enough case law to keep you up well your bedtime every night this week going through it if you like.” And when no one dared to respond the Judge continued. “I’ve heard directly from the newly appointed Director of the FBI, Nicholas Sheridan, Special Agent Tabitha Blue, noted author Thomas Pepper and retired Hostage Negotiator Justin Ryan who seemed to have a soft spot for the Doctor. I also have letters from former patients, colleagues, teachers, parents of five of Atlanta’s missing children who were recovered and Mrs. Fredrick’s entire third grade class at Brown Elementary School. You spoke to those kids over there, Dr. Hicks Dupree?”
“Yes, your honor,” Angel bit back a smile. “I’ve spoken there once week for the last six months about the dangers of alcohol and drug abuse.”
The Judge sat back in his chair, bit on the frame of his eyeglasses and Seth heard his voice take on a more serious tone.
“Those who have testified on your behalf come from different backgrounds and beliefs and motivations yet they all share one constant opinion: They all believe that this sad chapter in our country’s history would have not been brought to a close in the timespan it had without your assistance. You put yourself through a considerable amount of personal as well as professional peril to help find those children before…” The Judge let the last word fade into the oblivion that it deserved. “The Deputy Director went as far as to say that he has confidential information, sensitive to continuing investigations that this madness would have escalated to an unfathomable level without this woman’s intervention that concluded with putting a stop to Joseph Champion; a man who has been proven beyond a reasonable doubt as the mastermind behind the assassination of a President of the United States. Adolphus Sweet is not a man who I voted for, but as an officer in service to a nation as well was a man who I had a deep respect for.”
Angel’s lawyer said, “My client acknowledges Mr. Sheridan’s area of expertise in these matters, Judge.
“As well she should, Counselor,” The Judge sat erect and directed his full attention on Angel. Seth felt himself tense. “Doctor, are you an alcoholic?”
“Yes, sir, I am.”
The Judge scribbled on a legal pad.
“I realize that you have been receiving treatment for your addiction. I will say that I am not pleased with your progress. So I am assigning you to one of the finer drug and alcoholic rehabilitation center in this country for the next 90 days. You should not expect your recovery to be simple, Doctor. And I want you to keep in mind that his is an offer that you cannot refuse.”
Angel nodded.
The Judge leaned over his bench and made an ominous face that dared anyone in the courtroom to challenge his final ruling.
“I am suspending any jail time as long as you complete the program as I’ve instructed. But before you celebrate to loudly there is this: I am stripping you of all your medical licenses for practicing clinical or any other type psychology. When you exit your treatment you will need to seek out a new profession as a means to continue to be self-supporting.”
“Of course, your Honor,” Angel looked as if she’d swallowed a whole lot of somethings that were sour. “Thank you for giving me a second chance.”
“This is so ordered,” The Judge slammed the gavel down one last time. “We are done with our business here, court is adjourned.”
When they reached the hallway outside the courtroom, Seth watched Angel and her lawyer as they met with the mass of media that descended on the two women like flies on an open buffet.
Christopher Prince seized the opportunity to escape the courtroom with as little fanfare as his new found position as a House in Chains new One. He and Seth made eye contact. Seth had been struggling with bouts of memory loss, but his pent up disdain for this man during the earliest hours of 411 had not. How could I have been such a fool? How could he have hated such a good and honorable and loyal man as this one?
Seth wanted to say something to Chris but he didn’t want to let a poor choice of words or a misunderstood meaning get in the way.
Yet, it was the other man who made an offer to the Gray Man instead.
Chris stuck out his hand—and Dr. Seth Dupree shook it and held it there for a long time.
“Good luck to you, Doctor,” Chris said, “He looked over his shoulder at his childhood friend and flashed some type of pushing motion with his hands that Seth quickly gathered as a signal that only the two of them would understand. “You’re going to need every last ounce of it. I love your wife like the sister I never had. Siblings have a caring and forgiveness for one another that no other relationship can endure. I don’t know if you can fully understand that.”
“That is where you are wrong, Chris,” The Gray Man found himself saying. “
I can understand it. And yet, our relationship as husband and wife has nothing to do with luck as you mentioned before—none of this does.”
And then Christopher Prince disappeared out of a side door.
Five minutes later, Angel hopped into his arms and kissed him open mouthed. She was smiling from ear to ear with her lips in full bloom. She had cried along the route between leaving the courtroom, talking to the reporters and limping over to where he was.
“I’ll be going away for a while, Seth,” She looked like a new woman. She looked as if the burdens of this world had been lifted off of her shoulders. She couldn’t have been more wrong. “I will be back again. We’ll be back. We can start over again.”
“Start over, huh?”
“Of, course,” Angel’s smile waned a little. “Look, Seth, I’m sorry about you having to be embarrassed about hearing my sorry history in front of strangers like that. It isn’t fair that you had to be subjected to all my drinking, my infidelities…all of my personal demons once again.”
“I’m not concerned about what was said back there, Angel,” Seth said cautiously, “Some of those incidents were from a long time ago. What I am concerned with is the here and now. I’m disappointed in the fact that you haven’t changed my love. I don’t think that you ever will. What everyone has seen on display in an essence is who you are, Angel.”
Angel cocked a brow in confusion.
“I don’t understand what you mean by that, Seth,” She said in a low tone. Seth dried one of her tears. “Seth, I’ve been totally honest with you about everything. Look, Seth, I’m sure that you’ll find this corny, but I feel cleansed by this entire experience. I’m going to kick this drinking thing.”
“No you’re not, Angel,” Seth said without anger. “You’re not going to stop the drinking or the sleeping around. Especially now, that they’ve taken what little there was of your career from you. You have nothing left. And with nothing left to lose you are bound to get worse than you already are. Everyday more of who you really are will raise to the surface. I can’t live with this any longer. I can’t live with you and what you are anymore. I’m sorry. You can’t come home again.”
Angel stood there and glared into his gray eyes for a very long time.
“You know,” Angel’s lips parted into a serviceable O. “Somehow…you know…Memphis…Brad.”
“Yes,” Seth owed her that much left. “I know because I planted him in that airport and into your life.”
“Why?”
“I know you, Angel,” He said. “I know what turns you on. You made it easy.”
“Seth, you are a son of a bitch. You actually set me up.”
“I did.”
Angel made some type of movement with her mouth.
“Look, Seth, I can’t be angry with you. Why would I ever be angry with you? Yet, if you set me up you know that I didn’t have intercourse with him.” Seth frowned at her proclamation as weak as it was. “Alright, Seth, we had drinks—we had a lot of drinks, but I didn’t have sex with him. It never went beyond drinking and talking, even when he pushed. I did that much, Seth. I at least overcame that temptation.”
“No,” Seth heard his voice fall to a dangerously low decibel that he’d never heard in it before. “No you didn’t overcome temptation at all.”
“Look, Seth, I don’t know what Brad or whatever his name was told you—“
“You don’t get it do you, Angel,” Seth had to do something with his hands to keep from grabbing her here in this courthouse. He was reminded of the confrontation down in Macon nearly a year ago, while the FBI waited outside for her to leave with them. “Your test wasn’t to see if you would sleep with another man, Angel. Your test revolved around you allowing yourself to be put in yet another bad situation that could compromise our marriage that would compromise me.”
“Seth,” Angel couldn’t find any more words…but she did find more tears though. “Seth, I didn’t realize—“
“But you should have,” The Gray Man found his fury at long last and it was liberating in its intensity. “Angel, I nearly died a thousand times in the streets of Atlanta trying to reach you when I found out that Roxanne Sanchez wanted you dead. I have to live the rest of my life every night seeing that reign of terror that Quincy Morgan and his Peacekeeper’s let loose after dark. Right now I’m struggling to remember moments of my past after bleeding out from a madman named Joseph Champion that you took as a lover, Angel. I can’t remember my friend’s names sometimes that have moved on to eternity, Angel, but I will never forget these things, ever.” Seth paused both for breath and a vain attempt to collect himself. “After all of this, after this abomination that was our marriage you expect me to come back to you. I promised myself that I would stay by yours side to allow this Grand Jury thing to play itself out…but no further. If there was any chance of us saving our marriage it went out the window the moment when stepped into that hotel room with Brad.”
“Please, Seth,” She grasped at his bicep, but just like their marriage, it was all slipping away from her grasp. He pulled away and walked off. “I will do better, Seth. Don’t leave me alone. I’m begging you not to leave me alone. Serena told me that I would suffer from loneliness. It would be my personal Whirlwind.”
Seth spun around one final time to face his wife—who he still loved dearly, but could no longer live with.
“I guess that you can’t go home again, Angel.” He said again without cruelty and left her there crying and alone.
And in that one moment in time, Dr. Seth Dupree realized, yet again, that all his life it was if he’d been holding his breath…waiting.
He hoped to mend his broken heart.
He hoped to breathe again.
He hoped.
Epilogue: Another Dying Man
Aerospace Hospice Care; April 2012
Thomas Pepper was dying.
He knew that it was inevitable. He knew that there is no way he could continue to cheat his destiny. So he spends his final days like he does today, seated in his wheelchair with just enough strength in his arms to wheel himself around his room. And it amazes him that a man who was once as big and as strong as a bull just one year ago could be eaten up with disease at such a rapid pace.
Thomas’ long awaited book 411 was published last Tuesday and debuted in the number one slot in the New York Times, USA Today and dozens of national and international periodicals.
He smiled at the memory. Pride was one of the many sins that Thomas had prepared himself to answer for during the Judgement. 411 was his finest work. And to his surprise, the critics have been offering up positive review after positive review for his final piece that he would ever write.
He’d been watching the television all morning when he hadn’t been watching the children playing. He’d seen a brief caption flash across the bottom of the screen stating that Dr. Angel Hicks Dupree had been proven guilty by a Grand Jury but would not serve jail time for her crimes. Thomas knew that many in his former profession would consider that proclamation as light sentence indeed.
Thomas Pepper knew better.
He knows that the Director of the FBI, Nicholas Sheridan, has bought more than the doctor’s silence with his influence on her sentence. He had bought Agent Tabitha Blue and her people more time to find the renegade offspring of Pandora and bring them to justice before the world learned of their genocidal plans. Even recognition of Joseph Champion’s harrowing plot alone may be enough to set the country off on deep, dark journey that it may not be able to pull back from. And when Champion sent him an evidence of what these renegades from Pandora had done: Thomas realized that the poisoning of President Adolphus Sweet and Mayor Ernestine Johnson was just the start of a mass murder of people of color.
Champion also gambled that the more people knew about what truly happened to these public figures the more likely the world would learn the truth. That is why I burned the CD that he sent me. That’s why I read the information thoroughly but didn’t use the inform
ation in the final edit of my book. He would take the truth to his coming grave with him.
And yet what will you do with your truth, Christopher Prince?
Joseph Champion told one very large lie amidst all of those truths that he’d revealed to the doctor before she killed him that night. He fabricated the idea that he’d sent the new leader of a House in Chains a disk containing the same valuable information that Thomas knew. Champion played Sheridan—he played all of us for fools even from his grave. Sheridan came to see Thomas days ago and told him in person that he’d left word with Chris to meet with him soon after the ceremony concluded that had honored the deaths of his fallen family. Chris didn’t know the reason why. He couldn’t have known otherwise. And yet, once the two men, who were no longer allies, had agreed to meet under adverse circumstances, Sheridan was forced to reveal his secret to his former agent.
On the other end of the deal, Thomas knew that while Angel would not serve any official time she would suffer in anguish for as long as she lived for the decisions that she made during the days before and during the crisis in Atlanta.
And yet, Thomas knew that she would face those days of tribulation alone. His time was now at an end. He could not help her any longer.
He wanted to get to the window and look out. He’d used most of his advance of 411 and even called in the last favors that he ever would to assure himself this spot with an unobstructed view of the neighborhood preschool’s playground below from the hospice center. Thomas loved to watch the children at play. And now, with all of that book business behind him, he can finally spend as many hours of the day as he wishes watching them.
He finds that he hasn’t the strength to push himself forward towards the window. He grew ever irritable. He cursed, but still can’t get it done to his liking. He found that he was too far away from his emergency button to call for help.
He heard his door bell chime.
He smiled immediately.
The nurses had access to his room at all times. He knew that the ringing on the bell only served as a courtesy call before they used voice authorization to let themselves in. Perhaps they’d come to change his linens or clean his bathroom as they did daily. He hoped so. Whoever was on the other side of that door could help him get to where he wanted to be. He hoped that they’d dispatched some of the ladies who were closer to his own age. They tended to be kinder to him and show more patients with all of his physical limitations than the younger women did.
He found himself staring at the older nurses sometimes, but not in any sexual manner that he may have just one year earlier. He felt ashamed for the way that he’d treated women before. He felt worse for the manner that he’d treated the sanctity of marriage. It is another in the long line of issues that I have to answer for. Thomas minister friend had counseled him and told him that God forgives all sins and the sinners who committed them—even sinners like him. All he had to do was believed in his heart and ask for His forgiveness.
The children would be out soon. He didn’t want to miss them. Who knew how long he had left before even this privilege would be denied to him.
He heard a female voice utter her authorization code and then the bolted lock disengaged from the locking mechanism behind him. Thomas looked over his shoulder and saw only one set of legs had joined him in his room this time.
In his mind’s eye Thomas sometimes saw Serena Tennyson walk through that door. Sometimes she’d come to kill him. Other times she’d come simply to stay with him and watch him die as he had watched her do so six months earlier.
Thomas knew that it wasn’t Serena Tennyson or one of his nurses that had come today.
It was his mother, Julia, who had come to sit with him this day.
He could feel his eyes light up with her entrance and he could see the twinkle in her eyes as well. It was so very different when she showed up at Christmas time. He resisted her. He resented her presence after being out of his life after so many years. They’d argued about the past—about how she’d left Thomas and his siblings to fend for themselves while her father lay dying of the same cancer that was eating at his life right now. They cried together. They argued some more. Yet, Thomas knew that his mother was an old woman now. And he knew that she’d come seeking forgiveness for her past sins like he was seeking forgiveness from a higher power for his.
He had neither the strength nor the time to judge anymore.
They’d spent the last few months together getting to know one another again s mother and son. She started taking him out to places where he wanted to go like the store, or to the library, or to the park—or to Christopher Prince’s ceremony for his fallen family as he so desired.
If Thomas had any chance of God forgiving his many sins during his last days, how could he decide not to forgive his mother’s?
And after all, it felt wonderful to have his mom with him now—even here in the last days of his life.
Julia pushed him to his favorite spot in the entire room, in the entire world that he couldn’t have reached without her help. And then she left him alone there with the children and rested her own old legs in front of the TV on the couch on the far side of the room.
Thomas had arrived in his favorite spot just in the nick of time.
He watched the three and four year olds running and jumping about having a big time on a beautiful spring day. The teacher’s aides were watchful enough, but became distracted by one of the children who had taken a tumble over by the slide and was crying probably more embarrassment than the effects of an actual injury. The little boy didn’t appear to be seriously hurt.
Meanwhile, just out of view of the aides, two older boys seemed to be locked in a disagreement over something or the other. The talking soon turned into shouting and the shouting escalated into shoving and eventually punches being thrown.
One combatant was a little black boy while the other was a petite shaped white child.
The memories of what happened during Scar pushed up from back of his mind to the surface. He nearly stood in his chair sickened so to what he was seeing. He wanted to cry out and bang on the glass for them to stop what they were doing. He begged out loud for them to behave themselves. Please act civilized. Please don’t act like savages towards another. Thomas was unsure whether he was speaking specifically to the preschool aged boys or to two members of the race in general. One part of his brain did ask the other this question: Why couldn’t one generation learn from the mistakes of those who came before it? He felt his mother rising behind him as he wondered if this country—this world would ever find enough tolerance in the areas of race relations before it was too late for any of it to matter.
Thomas wondered if discord and conflict between these two races was inevitable whether Tabitha Blue found these renegade Pandora agents before the world learned the truth about Joseph Champion’s true intentions or not? He wondered if Christopher Prince’s anointed rising as the One would prevent future conflicts like the ones suffered by so many last year or ignite more of them? The last question was one of the final points that he’d put to the many millions of readers that he knew would view the pages of his final work.
Thankfully, the disagreement between the young boys had ended as quickly as it had come. The two children were back laughing and playing in no time. Whatever had brought on the fury had settled itself even without the aid of grownup supervision or interference.
Thomas Pepper sat himself back in his wheelchair and smiled.
And that smile didn’t fade when the tears of joy flowed down his flushed cheeks.
Perhaps there is hope for peace in our time—in the time of those he would leave behind when I’m dead and gone.
Julia must have seen the tears on his face and wrapped her arms around her boy and comforted him the best she could. Thomas squeezed her wrist with affection but never took his eyes off of the children of all races playing below.
He watched the two boys for a few minutes more.
Perhaps in that miniat
ure block of time and space the two of them had discovered the truth that so many of us had failed to grasp if not completely understand. Thomas hoped that someday soon—before it was too late—that they would be gracious enough to share it with him in the little time he had left.
He would gladly spend the last of his energy—the last of his life’s blood to pass the knowledge and wisdom to a country and world that so very badly needed it.
After all, wherever Thomas Pepper went, the truth was never far behind.
He hoped…he prayed that this truth was not far behind.
End of Novel
Thank you for downloading this e-book.
Dedication
As I’ve said before, this one is for…well, for me. This tale has been in my pipeline for a long time.
Nest Egg Publishing Note:
This was a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are use factiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No Rules. Just Write: Nest Egg Publishing
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