The primary aim of the "Novel Excerpts" blog category is to showcase my creative writing, specifically from the novels I've written. Hopefully, these posts will provide a glimpse into my storytelling style, themes, and narrative skills. It's an opportunity to share my artistic expressions and the worlds I've created through my novels.
The Boaz Scorekeeper, written in 2017, is my second novel. I'll post it a chapter a day over the next few weeks.
On Tuesday morning, the other four defense attorneys cross-examined me until 11:30 a.m. After my testimony, Judge Chambliss called for an early lunch recess. Matt and I went downstairs to Drake’s Courthouse Cafe and were just finishing up our apple pie and ice-cream when my cell phone vibrated. It was Greg. “Good news. Wade and James are ready to deal. You don’t have to rush back.”
I told Matt, paid our ticket, and nearly ran the three flights of stairs back to Judge Chambliss’ courtroom. The parties, Greg and his two associates, and Wade and James and their attorneys were all meeting in the Judge’s Chambers. I didn’t see the three police officers or their attorneys. Periodically, Federal Marshalls were transferring Wade and James between Judge’s Chambers and a holding cell just down the hall.
Matt and I sat on a bench just around the corner from the Judge’s office. We speculated on what was about to happen, our positions differed. Matt thought Wade and James would agree to life in prison if all State charges against their father and grandfathers were dropped. I just couldn’t see Greg going for that, nor DA Abbott from Marshall County. I felt like Wade and James could avoid the death penalty, maybe even life in prison, but someone else was going to spend a few years in State prison.
At 1:15 p.m., Greg came out and told us about the agreement and the pleas Wade and James were about to enter. These two would plea to the murders of Gina Tillman, Alma Castenada, her parents, four counts of kidnapping for sexual exploitation, and conspiracy to commit a hate crime against a specific people group. They would be sentenced to life in prison with the possibility of parole in 30 years. Walter Tillman and Franklin Ericson would plea in State Court to embezzlement and extortion and be sentenced to eight years in prison with the possibility of parole in three years. David Adams and Raymond Radford would plea in State court to two counts of murder in the deaths of Harold Maples and Shawn Taylor. They would be sentenced to 20 years in prison with the possibility of parole in seven years. No one would plea to the three hate crimes that occurred in 1901, 1926, and 1946. The evidence was simply too thin, but the main problem was all the grandfathers and great-grandfathers of the Flaming Five were all dead, except 106-year-old Rudolph Tillman, who had just two days ago suffered a massive stroke and was now in a coma. The three police officers, Chris Anderson, Paul Thomas, and Edward Hall, would all plead guilty to and were sentenced, like Wade and James, to life with possibility of parole in 30 years. Dale Watson, like Fitz, escaped formal condemnation and prison in exchange for his cooperation.
At 1:45 p.m., Wade, James, and the three police officers, plead guilty and were taken into custody by the Federal Marshalls. David, Raymond, Walter, and Franklin would plea Friday in State Court in Marshall County. By agreement, they could remain on bail. However, DA Abbott warned them to have their affairs in order because Judge Broadside would revoke their bail and place them in custody immediately upon the entering their pleas.
Matt and I left the Courthouse’s parking deck at 2:20 p.m., and drove home telling each other that if we were Fitz Billingsley and Dale Watson we would pack our bags and get lost. By becoming rats as big as Texas they had escaped felony conviction and prison but had spawned a fiery hatred that would never be extinguished. As for Fitz, I reminded Matt of Club Eden’s promised punishment for any turncoat. He asked, “surely the fathers of the Flaming Five would not risk life in prison or even death to carry out the Club’s sentencing.”
“Are you forgetting the sons of the Flaming Five. They too are members, probably since the mid-nineties. They are now in their mid-thirties. I know it seems Warren Tillman is a fine, upstanding man as pastor of First Baptist Church of Christ, but Club loyalty can go rather deep. I just know that if I were Fitz I would hightail it out of Boaz.” I said.
As we reached the top of the mountain coming up Highway 431, I knew I had to tell Matt the full truth. Naturally, I was torn. I much preferred to let him continue to think I was a better person than I really was. But, by the time we got to Mountainboro, I was committed to the truth. He had a right to know the real Micaden Lewis Tanner. I turned right onto Mountainboro Road and then right again on Cox Gap Road. In five minutes, we were sitting in the driveway of Oak Hollow.
The Pencil-Driven Life 