“She is pathetic,” Grant said. “You feel sorry for what she’s become, but she committed rape of a child on at least one occasion. I have always thought that rape, when clearly proven, especially rape of a child, should be the death penalty.” Josie started wailing again. “And I see no reason to depart from that,” Grant said. Some in the crowd gasped. This was real. They were really talking about killing people. No more weeks of debates about whether it was legal to hold a trial; now they were talking about killing people. Even though people had been easing into this conclusion for weeks, it still came as a shock when it actually happened.
“Frankie Richardson,” Grant said. “Well, he’s an easy case. He deserves the death penalty. Period.” No one in the crowd disagreed with that. Frankie was emotionless.
“Those are my suggestions, but the ultimate decision is yours,” Grant said to the jury.
They went back into the kitchen for a few minutes. Josie was breaking down during that time. Frankie just sat there. He wanted to get this over with.
The jury came back and the foreman said, “The jury concurs with your suggestions.” Josie cried some more.
Grant called Rich up to where he was sitting and whispered, “How are we going to carry out the sentences?” Grant was realizing again how much they were making this up as they went.
Rich shrugged and whispered, “We talked about hanging. That still makes sense.” They quickly and quietly talked about the logistics: the rope, the platform. They agreed to use a horse. They didn’t have time to make a platform and, frankly, Grant didn’t want to make one. Frankie wasn’t worth the lumber. Besides, Grant hoped they’d never have to use it again. Why build something you didn’t want to use? A horse would be fine. Rich knew someone with a horse.
After their whispered conversation, Grant said out loud, “Guards, please take Ms. Franks and Mr. Williams to the jail. The hanging of Ms. Phillips and Mr. Richardson will occur tomorrow morning.” The room was silent. They were really going to do it. Hang people.
Grant looked around for a gavel. He didn’t have one. He simply said, “Court is adjourned,” and stood up. That was it.
People came up to Grant and wanted to talk to him, but he wasn’t interested in talking to anyone. He wanted to leave. He wanted to be alone.
The enormity of what he’d just done started to well up in him. It was like a brick wall falling on him. He had just ordered two people’s deaths. They were guilty as hell and deserved the hanging, and a lot more, but still, Grant didn’t enjoy it. He felt sick to his stomach. He started to get nauseous.
After a few seconds, the nausea and brick wall subsided. He didn’t regret what he had done, he just wished he didn’t have to do it. Like with the looters he shot. He would have done the same thing again, but he wished those men wouldn’t have been out that night and wouldn’t have threatened him and Ron. He wished people would quit doing bad things. Stop killing, stealing, and raping. He wished he could just call 911 and have someone else deal with everything.
Grant grabbed his AR that had been leaning against the wall behind him where he was sitting. He also grabbed his kit, which was hanging in the coat closet near the entrance to the Grange. He put it on and got on his moped. He needed to ride around to clear his head, but that would use up valuable gas, so he decided to make an impromptu inspection of the gate. Yeah, that was it. He was inspecting the gate. He just needed to be out of there.
As he left, he could hear Josie screaming while the guards were taking her off for the final preparations. He had to get away from that sound. Screams of impending death – even from a monster – are still screams. He had to get away.
During his ride, he began getting his mind back in the game. As he came within view of the gate, he realized why all these horrible things were necessary. The gate. The gate said it all. There were people out there who wanted to hurt them. There were wolves who wanted to attack the sheep. Some of the wolves were inside the gate and had already attacked the sheep, like poor little innocent Crystal. Sheepdogs had to do unpleasant things to protect the sheep. You’re a sheepdog, Grant told himself. You didn’t ask for this job, but you need to do it.
He pulled over quickly, popped the kickstand, got off the little girly moped and realized that no one could see him. He leaned over the ditch on the side of the road and threw up. Then he cried. He would just take a minute and he’d be fine.
Then he fell to the ground and cried some more. He was on his knees, crying like he’d never cried before. He was screaming, “Why?”
You’ll see.
Chapter 153
The Garbage and the Fox
(June 6)
Grant stared at the sky until he finally got up off the ground and back onto the moped. He wiped the barf from his mouth onto his sleeve. He rode toward the gate, trying to prepare for being calm when he got there.
When he got to the gate, Heidi saw him and asked how the trial went. She’d heard the verdict over the radio. Then she realized that he was the judge. “Hey, you’re the judge or whatever,” she said wondering why he was down at the gate so soon after the verdict.
“Or whatever,” Grant said humbly and then told Heidi about the outcome of the trial.
“We’re going to hang people?” she asked. Those words stung Grant like he had done something wrong by suggesting, and then accepting, the death sentences. Maybe hanging was too harsh. Had he done something horribly wrong?
Heidi paused and said, “I mean, they have it coming and everything, it’s just that I don’t think anyone’s been hung in this state in a hundred years. Why not just shoot ‘em?” she asked. Here was a sweet, peaceful nineteen year-old young woman asking, “Why not just shoot ‘em?” It seemed so odd. Life had quickly become mean and hard out there. It wasn’t whether to kill some people, but rather how.
“Hanging will send a message to the community,” Grant said. “It will remind people not to do this.” He pointed back toward the Grange and said, “Hanging conveys authority: a community orders the hanging of a person. Any ole’ guy with a gun can shoot someone. That’s not a community-wide punishment, it’s just shooting someone.”
Heidi thought about it. Hanging did have an official law-and-order feel to it; an old fashioned sense of justice. It was quick and relatively painless, too. “Yeah, I can see hanging making sense here,” she said.
Grant was relieved. He stopped worrying that he’d overreacted and ordered two people killed for no reason, but he still was worrying whether he had been fair.
Always wonder if you’re being fair. You will be fair, but always wonder. It’s hard to be fair. You are a human being, so you have to work at it. Don’t let the hate blind you.
Grant got the feeling that the outside thought was talking about more than just Frankie and Josie. It seemed like it was talking about Grant making a lot more of these decisions. Punishing people he hated, but being fair while doing so. Loyalists? No way, Grant thought. How would he be in a position to judge Loyalists? That was impossible.
Dan, who had missed the trial because he was patrolling the creek, came up to Grant. Heidi told Dan about the verdicts and he just nodded. None of this surprised him.
Grant wanted to take his mind of the hangings. So he talked to Dan about getting a second set of dogs for the next raid. Dan was happy to oblige. He had a couple of detection dogs who could sniff out bombs and drugs back at his place. “Detection dogs are not ideal for attack duties, but they’ll do fine for what you need. Just seeing those dogs will get the bad guys to beg you to arrest them,” he said with a grin. Dan was glad that people were seeing how valuable his dogs were. He wasn’t just some pet lover. He was the owner of some very useful tools.