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  Justice Comes to Jean Ville Through

  SISSY

  ◊

  Madelyn Bennett Edwards

  Copyright © 2018 by Madelyn Bennett Edwards

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Madelyn Bennett Edwards

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

  The point of view of Sissy Burton, used in the first person throughout this book as narrator, has no reference or relation to the author and is purely a fictional character.

  The town of Jean Ville, Louisiana is similar to the town where the author grew up, Marksville, Louisiana; but most of the specific places such as the Quarters, St. Matthews Church, Assumption Catholic School, and other areas, streets, and places are all fictional.

  Printers Amazon KDP and IngramSpark

  Book design by Mark Reid and Lorna Reid at AuthorPackages.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Edwards, Madelyn Bennett, author

  ISBN: 978-1-7333800-0-3

  Subjects: Mystery, crime, coming of age, romance, race relations, Louisiana, Cajun

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition. Copyrighted Material

  Other Books by Madelyn Bennett Edwards

  Catfish

  A Novel

  Lilly

  Sequel to Catfish

  Table of Contents

  Prologue: 1984

  Part 1: The Crime

  Chapter One - Abigail

  Chapter Two - Sleuthing

  Chapter Three - New Orleans

  Chapter Four - Small Steps

  Chapter Five - Jules Avenue

  Chapter Six - Moving On

  Chapter Seven - Investigation

  Chapter Eight - Arrested

  Chapter Nine - Arraigned

  Chapter Ten - Romance

  Chapter Eleven - Revenge

  Part 2: The Fallout

  Chapter Twelve - Jury Selection

  Chapter Thirteen - Trial

  Chapter Fourteen - Witnesses

  Chapter Fifteen - Victims

  Chapter Sixteen - Testify

  Chapter Seventeen - The Verdict

  Chapter Eighteen - Justice

  Acknowledgements

  Pronunciation of French/Cajun names

  Reading Group

  Discussion Questions

  Biography

  Dedication

  For Billy

  A brother and supporter like no other

  Prologue

  ***

  1984

  IT WAS THE wedding that should never have happened—at least not in Jean Ville, Louisiana in 1984. More than four hundred guests responded to the two hundred invitations sent to announce the nuptials of Susanna Burton and Rodney Thibault at St. Alphonse's Catholic Church on June 30. Most of the people in the congregation were natives of Toussaint Parish and had never seen a mixed-race couple, especially one so blatantly willing to expose their relationship in public.

  Whispers filtered through the crowd as Senator Robert James Burton escorted his daughter down the aisle, then shook hands with Major Thibault, who'd recently retired from the US Army JAG Corps after ten years of service. The retired state senator took his seat behind his estranged wife, Anne Baylor Burton, who sat on the first pew with her escort from Houston.

  Normally an article about such a high-profile wedding would include a description of the bride's gown, which was a white, floor-length, full-skirted, and full-sleeved version of Lara's attire in Dr. Zhivago, a popular movie from the 1960s. This narrative should also mention that the bridesmaids were the couple's daughter, Lilly Franklin, sixteen, the bride's half-sister, Marianne Massey, and full sister, Abigail Burton who all wore floor-length fuchsia taffeta gowns, also with full sleeves, a la Lara. Miss Franklin was unescorted. Miss Massey was escorted by Thibault's brother, Jeffrey, a local attorney, and Ms. Burton by Joseph Franklin, Miss Franklin's adoptive father who resides in New York City.

  The names of those in the wedding party, and the abundance of lilies that filled the air with a sweet perfume would be important details in a high-profile wedding such as this one, but that's not the case here.

  It's what happened after the couple said, "I do," and kissed, in front of a mostly white crowd, that is the real story.

  When Major Thibault and the daughter of Senator Burton walked through the double doors of the church into the hot and humid sunny day just after 1:00 in the afternoon, shots rang out. Two shots, to be exact, according to those who witnessed an old, blue, pickup truck speed away with two men allegedly in the cab.

  Interviews with those willing to discuss the shooting indicate that both shots hit the major as he fell on top of Susie Burton-Thibault in an effort to protect her from the bullets.

  "It was as though he had a premonition," said Jeffrey Thibault, who was just behind Lilly Franklin as the wedding party marched out of the church. Miss Franklin was too disturbed to answer questions.

  Confusion was the order of the day as Miss Massey, a registered nurse who works at Jean Ville Hospital, summoned Dr. David Switzer from the church to attend the victims. Blood poured from Thibault onto his wife in such a way that no one could tell who was bleeding, or whether they both were, as Susie's long, red hair matted to the concrete.

  The bride seemed to gasp for air, then made an effort at slow, easy breaths to calm herself. The groom lay very still on top of his wife. Not a muscle moved, but in those first few minutes, witnesses said they knew he was alive because there was a slight rise and fall of his back. It was not evident whether Susie was breathing until the two groomsmen rolled the major off his wife and she gasped, taking in a deep breath.

  Senator Burton and Mrs. Anne Burton, who'd stood over the couple like immovable statues, inhaled deeply when their daughter took that breath, then began to retch and vomit on the concrete.

  Sirens, piercing and loud, burned through the air outside the church as anxious guests strained to see what was happening. Gurneys appeared and the victims were strapped on and transported to the two waiting emergency vehicles parked in front of the church.

  Dr. Switzer climbed into the back of one of the ambulances with Major Thibault while Marianne Massey and Lilly Franklin accompanied Susanna Burton-Thibault in the second unit. City and parish police officers and firemen were at the scene and milled around talking to the attendees, asking questions, taking notes.

  One of the two ambulances took Burton-Thibault to Jean Ville Hospital. Major Thibault was driven to Alexandria Regional Hospital; however, due to the serious nature of his condition, he was airlifted to Ochsner Medical Center in New Orleans.

  There are no reports as to the condition of either of the victims.

  Part 1

  The Crime

  Chapter One

  ***

  Abigail

  I WISH I didn't have to tell this part of the story.

  Susie was in an ambulance, being whizzed off to the nearest emergency room, her head cracked open and bleeding all over her white wedding gown. Marianne might have been a logical choice as storyteller because she and Susie go back further than Susie and I do, but Marianne was awfully busy trying to save our sister's life.

  So it falls to me to tell what happened.

  I'm Susie's younger sister, Abigail Burton, but everyone calls me Sissy.

  *

  This is what I witnessed that day, and in the months that followed the wedding.

  The sanctuary was filled
with guests. On the groom's side were all the brown and black folks, and mulattoes, like Rodney. On Susie's side were the white class who curried favor from our dad, Bob Burton, ex-mayor and former senator who still wielded power and influence throughout Toussaint Parish.

  Daddy showed up at the last minute and walked Susie down the aisle, which shocked everyone because he had been against the relationship between Susie and Rodney from the beginning. In fact he had organized an old-fashioned posse of guys with guns and ropes to hunt Rodney down in the early 70s when he attempted to move to New York to marry Susie.

  Daddy wore a black tuxedo, and since I was one of the bridesmaids, I was close enough to see him fur his brow and sneer when he shook hands with Rodney at the altar. Marianne was also a bridesmaid, and her face turned scarlet because she was embarrassed by Daddy's presence so close to her. She is our half-sister whom Daddy fathered with Tootsie, our help. Lilly was the third bridesmaid and she didn't notice anything amiss. She just stared lovingly at her parents, so proud that they were getting married to each other.

  Susie looked confused, since she never expected Daddy to show up. He dropped her arm and didn't lift her veil to kiss her, like fathers-of-brides are supposed to do. He hadn't attended the rehearsal, so maybe he didn't know how to act, but I could tell Susie was upset, and even a bit sad. Rodney later lifted her veil and kissed her in front of the entire world.

  Daddy plopped down in the pew behind my mother and her Mafia boyfriend from Houston, and crossed his arms over his chest. He remained like that for the entire mass, communion, and vow exchange.

  Marianne and Susie are the same age and they have a strong sisterly bond. I am almost a decade younger, and they pulled me into their reationship when they told me that Lilly was Susie's daughter. Lilly was born in New York when Susie was an eighteen-year-old sophomore at Sarah Lawrence University. Susie chose a mixed-race couple, Emalene and Joe Franklin, to adopt Lilly, and never told a soul about the baby. Susie revealed her big secret to Lilly at age twelve, and to Rodney when Lilly was almost fifteen. Lilly and Rodney became very close over the last year as they got to know each other as father and daughter.

  Rodney is a great guy, plain and simple.

  The aroma of fresh lilies filled the air and the organist played Pachelbel’s Canon in D as Susie and Rodney walked down the aisle and out of the church after their vows. Lilly was right behind them, then Marianne and Jeffrey, Rodney's brother; then me, with Joe Franklin.

  As I walked through the double church doors into the sunshine, I heard two gunshots and saw an old, blue, pickup truck peel-out and spray gravel and dirt behind the tires as it sped towards town. Susie lay on her back on the concrete landing that spanned the entire front of the church, with Rodney face down on top of her, blood drenching her red hair and wedding gown. Lilly screamed and I grabbed her arm while Marianne ran back into the church calling for Dr. David Switzer, a family friend and wedding guest.

  Dr. Switzer directed Jeffrey and Joe to roll Rodney off Susie and shouted, "Someone call for ambulances." My brother Robby, number four of us six Burton kids, ran towards the priest's house next door and left our other three brothers and their girlfriends standing around like dummies, the girls in mini skirts and tube tops looking as though they'd shopped together for their inappropriate wedding outfits.

  When they rolled Rodney onto the concrete, Susie's chest swelled as though she'd been holding her breath while underneath him, and was finally able to draw the damp summer air into her lungs. I knelt on one side of her in my fuchsia, taffeta bridesmaid dress and tried to block out the sounds of human voices murmuring like a huge swarm of bees.

  Blood covered Rodney's face, and his right arm looked broken and was blood-coated. More red liquid collected under his torso while his stiff and still body lay prone on the concrete. Lilly hung onto me, shouting, "Oh, God, please!" over and over.

  Susie's head was in a huge pool of blood, and her eyes were closed. After that initial intake of breath, her chest didn't rise and fall again. I thought she was dead and began to shake.

  Marianne, who is a nurse at Jean Ville Hospital, knelt on the other side of Susie and put her ear on Susie's chest. It seemed like a very long time before Mari lifted her head and nodded at me as if to say, "She's breathing."

  I inhaled hot tar and burned rubber from the pavement where the truck had peeled-out, and got a whiff of something like soured milk in the close space around Susie. That's when I noticed her retching, but she was on her back and couldn't get it up. Marianne and I rolled Susie onto her side so the vomit could spill out on the concrete. It soaked her thick hair that I tried to lift and hold out of the way. Lilly still hung on my back and screamed, "Oh, God, please."

  It all happened in slow motion, so I can't say how long it took before I heard the beautiful sound of sirens and clanging bells. Finally, I saw a reflection of blue lights bounce off the church's stained glass windows. Two ambulances, three police units, and a fire truck pulled up in front of the church. The responders got out of their vehicles and stood in the street as though the parking lot—filled with Lincoln Continentals, 98 Oldsmobiles, and GTOs—was a barricade. I felt helpless, shocked, and totally out of my element as I knelt on the concrete between the unconscious bodies of my sister and her new husband.

  I counted ten uniformed men, who walked around each other on Jefferson Street when they should have been tending to the injured. Marianne ran past the cars in the parking lot and snagged hold of the shoulder of one of the EMTs. I sat back on my heels and chewed my fingernails while Lilly leaned against my back, screaming, "Oh, God, please!"

  "Get over here and help me, Gary." Marianne hollered, and one of the EMTs grabbed a bag and followed her as she weaved between a Ford LTD and a Cutlass to get to Susie. Dr. Switzer seemed to hover over Rodney's lifeless body, holding one eye open for a few seconds, then the other eye. Someone handed Dr. Switzer his bag, and he grabbed a stethoscope and began to poke it around on Rodney's chest.

  Once Marianne got Gary to follow her, the other responders began to move, and soon two paramedics knelt beside Susie, and two beside Rodney. The three police officers stood around as though they had never been near a church. Four volunteer firemen emerged from their truck wearing fireproof get-ups and milled around with some of the wedding guests as they exited the church onto the concrete landing.

  Gurneys magically appeared, and the paramedics hauled Susie and Rodney through the gravel, potholes, and rows of cars, and slid them into separate ambulances. Marianne got into the front of the unit that held Susie and Dr. Switzer in the one with Rodney.

  Lilly screamed, broke loose from my arms, and ran after the men who pushed Susie's stretcher, and before I could stop her, she jumped in the back of the ambulance with her mom. The doors closed and the two emergency units took off up Jefferson Street, heading north towards the hospital.

  I ran after Lilly and stood on the street with my hands in the air as sirens blared, bells clanged, and the police units twirled their blue lights and followed the two ambulances in parade-like fashion.

  It was a few moments before I realized I'd been left behind. I took off walking, holding the hem of my floor-length bridesmaids dress in one hand, my high heels in the other. The hospital was only a half-mile away.

  After I'd walked a little more than a block and was in front of the Fox Theatre, Warren Morrow pulled up beside me in his black Ford pickup and said, "Get in." I stared at him as though I didn't know him, although we'd dated through high school and had restarted our stagnant relationship when I dropped out of college and moved back home a couple of years back.

  Warren was a Cajun with questionable friends, a dead-end job assisting a surveyor, barely a high school education, and the manners of a prison refugee. I don't know why I continued to date him, except that there were no alternatives in the small town of Jean Ville where I was imprisoned by my own lack of education and ambition.

  I climbed into the front seat of Warren's tr
uck and it was rolling before I closed the door.

  "Did you see what happened?" I didn't look at him, just stared out the front windshield.

  "No. When I came out of the church, everyone was gathered around Susie and the black guy. I couldn't see nothing."

  "Maybe you could ask around. Your 'friends' might know something." I pouted when I thought of Warren's friends and the things they were capable of.

  "Yea. Sure." He dropped me off at the emergency entrance to Jean Ville Hospital and said he was going to park his vehicle.

  "Don't come in, Warren." I held the door ajar and stood on my tiptoes because his damn truck was jacked up in the air. "I'll call you later."

  "But…" Warren stammered and I slammed the door because I had more important things to do than to argue with a dumbass like him.

  Two paramedics pushed an empty gurney out the double glass doors as I walked into the emergency department at the small hospital, which was abuzz with activity. The paramedics who'd rolled the gurney out the door returned and joined the three police officers who hung around the nurses’ station like stooges. I presumed they were waiting for news as to the fate of Susie and Rodney.

  No mixed-race couple had ever been brave enough to show themselves in public in Jean Ville. I told Susie it was a mistake to have their wedding in this town. She'd lived in New York since she was seventeen and she refused to believe that bigotry still existed in the Deep South to the extent it did.

  I didn't have to look far to find Lilly. She stood in the middle of the bustling emergency room between the patient cubicles and the nurses' station. I grabbed her and found a corner where we'd be out of the way. She sobbed on my taffeta-covered shoulder.