The Hand of One

THE HAND OF ONE

I often wonder what goes through the mind of a person who feels as though all their options have been exhausted, thereby sending them into a situation where ill reasoning become the norm.

As far as I am concerned 1994 will go down in history as a year to forget. If I were given a choice, I would have pressed the delete button on one storyline that caused nothing but heart wrenching pain for everyone involved. Years later, I still find myself grappling with that moment in time. My memory won’t allow me to forget, and to this day, I struggle to forgive the parties involve, when the so-called “Christian” part of me demands that I must forgive.

I had taken a friend out for his birthday and when I returned home there was message on my answering machine. “James, this is Hope. Call me as soon as possible. Something has happened in Newberry. It has to do with one of the Sander daughters.”

I had a long history with the Sanders’ family. Me and Linda Sander had been extremely close friends in high school. We were both members of the marching band. That was how our friendship began. When we all graduated, our friendship endured. Not only did the friendship grow, but at some point, I introduced Linda to my best friend, Shane Brewington.

Me and Shane met one summer at a church camp when we were counselors, and when summer ended, we became inseparable. Our races were different which often raised some eyebrows in my neighborhood whenever he came over or dropped me off. We didn’t care about that. We were from the generation that told people with those kinds of attitudes, to shove it up their narrow-minded asses. Shane’s family welcomed me with open arms and my family returned the favor.

Sometime during our senior year in high school, I introduced Shane to Linda. They hit it off immediately and soon began dating. A year later they had to marry. Seven months after their marriage, their first child was born, and they made me the child’s godfather. Two other children eventually came along, and their happy little marriage was complete.

Truth be told, the years had not been kind to their marriage. They separated several times, and in 1994 Shane called me to say that another separation was pending, and it would be the final one. They were finally divorcing. I was sad to hear the news but not surprised. I had known for the longest that they weren’t exactly Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson.

Following the announcement of their final separation, Shane began to call me on a regular basis. His calls were filled with anger and stress. “James,” he’d say, “If she thinks she’s getting those children, she’s crazy. I’ll fight her all the way.” As a friend of both parties, I tried not to weigh in, but Linda had her side of the story that needed to be told as well.

I told Shane that I was going to call Linda, but he emphatically discouraged me from doing so. “Don’t call her. She’s totally unreasonable. She won’t listen to you.” Normally, I would have called her anyway, but decided to let them ride out their storm. I figured they’d finally get a divorce, and that would be the end of that.

I returned Hope’s call after listening to her message and she tried to fill me in. “James, all I know is that there has been an accident, and something has happened to one the Sander girls. It sounds serious.” I prayed that Linda wasn’t involved. There were five sisters in the family and so the accident could have happened to any one of them.

I found myself in an awkward position. I couldn’t call Shane because if the person in question was Linda, I wouldn’t know what to say to him. I couldn’t call Linda’s mother for obvious reasons. She had just lost a daughter.

I decided to call Shane’s mother. If anything had happened, she would have known about it and would have delivered any news to me with a sense of detachment. Mrs. Brewington was one of those southern belles made of steel, able to compartmentalize a crisis without breaking a sweat.

The phone rang a couple of times and I almost hung up but then she answered. “Mrs. Brewington, I know it’s very late, but tonight I received a strange call from Hope telling me that there had been some kind of accident involving one of the Sander girls.” There was eerie silence for a moment. I could feel that she was preparing to tell me something awful.

“Oh James, it’s just horrible. Honey I don’t know how to tell you this, but Linda was found dead this evening.” I couldn’t even respond. She repeated my name several times before I finally answered. I kept picturing Linda’s face, beaming with smiles the way it always did. “Are you going to be alright?” she asked. “No, I don’t think so, but please tell me what happened.”

According to Mrs. Brewington, Linda had dropped the kids off at Shane’s place while on her way to a meeting, but she never made it to the meeting. People soon became concerned as to her whereabouts.

Four hours later, at around 10 p.m., Linda’s car was found on a dark deserted country road. A stranger who was driving by noticed the car, looked in, and found her behind the stirring wheel of the car. An autopsy would later reveal that her neck had been crushed.

I could sense that she no longer wanted to continue the conversation, which was a good thing because I was sick to my stomach. “I’m sorry you had to hear this alone, James. Give us a call tomorrow and maybe I can tell you more.” “How is Shane?” I asked. “He’s very broken up, as you can imagine.” “Tell him I’ll call him tomorrow.” I hung up the phone and threw it violently on the floor as if it were somehow responsible for Linda’s death.

I called Hope back to give her all of the details and without missing a beat she said, “I’ll bet you anything in the world that Shane did it. If he didn’t do it himself, he’s behind it.” “Hope,” I responded, “What are you talking about? It was an accident.” “Accident my ass! He’s always been crazy, and you know it. Listen, I’ve got an early court case in the morning, so I’ve got to get some sleep, but keep me posted. Good night, James. I love you.” “I love you too. Good night.”

I must admit, a flood of questions rushed in following our conversation. Why had Shane been calling me so much during their separation? Why was he so angry during those calls, and why was he so determined to have custody of the children? I also felt an enormous amount of guilt. I should have spoken to Linda. I needed to hear her side of the story. Now, it was too late.

I called Shane the next morning. “Shane, this is James. Oh my God, I can’t believe this. How are you? How are the kids? He failed to answer either question, but instead became overwhelmed with emotion. “I can’t talk about it, man. It’s too hard. Are you coming to the funeral?” “When is it?” I asked. “Thursday afternoon.” “Of course, I’ll be there. Call me if you need anything.”

I had no idea how I would make it back for the funeral. I didn’t exactly have seven hundred dollars lying around for air fare. I did, however, have a friend who worked for an airline and so I called him to see if he could get me a discount pass. He came through with a pass that costs one hundred and fifty dollars, round trip. I took the red eye out on Wednesday evening and arrived in Atlanta on Thursday morning, rented a car, and drove three hours to Newberry.

The summer heat was oppressive and the air conditioning unit in my rental car was apparently for decorative purposes only. It was a miserable drive, complicated by the emotional stress.

The funeral was at three o’clock, and I arrived in Newberry at around noon. I drove directly to the funeral home to view Linda’s body. However, when I arrived, I sat in the car, frozen, unable to move. I couldn’t make myself go in. The thought of seeing her lifeless body lying in a coffin was too much for me. I wanted to remember her as a person filled with life and laughter, as one who made everyone smile whenever she entered a room.

The last time I had seen Linda had been about a year prior to her death. I was on vacation and always made a point to visit Shane, Linda, and the kids. It was a short visit, but I stayed over that night. The following morning, Linda was frantically rushing around trying to make it to church because she taught Sunday school and was running late. She started to panic because she knew the kids at church would be waiting for her. Shane scolded her for running late, but it was clear she wanted to visit with me a little longer, a gesture I didn’t mind at all.

Following my decision to not view Linda’s body, I drove out to the farm where Shane and his family lived. During their separation, Shane’s parents had purchased a trailer for him and the children to live in. It was placed on their sprawling property, ten miles outside of Newberry.

I pulled slowly into the driveway. The scene was anything but calm. One could immediately feel the tension. People were everywhere. Some were sitting on the veranda, while others gathered inside. Everyone was preparing for the drive back into town for Linda’s funeral.

I entered through the den located in the back of the house. Shane’s mother was the first to greet me. “James, I’m so glad you made it back. This will mean so much to Shane and the children.” “We’re family,” I offered, “I had to come back.” “Where is he?” “He’s down at the trailer expecting you. This had been so rough on him.”

I walked to the trailer, knocked on the door and entered. My godchild greeted me with a tight hug, her brother joined in. We all embraced each other without words. I looked across the room at Shane who seemed emotionally shattered. I grabbed him by the shoulders, and we held each other tight. “I can’t believe she’s gone. I loved her so much.”

The room was silent except for sniffles and the sound of the loud air conditioner. A phone ring interrupted the silence. It was a call from Mrs. Brewington informing us that it was time to go.

The church was packed, standing room only. Not everyone knew Linda, but being a small town, everyone knew the circumstances surrounding her death, and as a result, it seemed like everyone in the city tried to fit into the small chapel on Main St.

I sat with the Shane and Linda’s family. Shane sat in the pew directly in front of me. I stared at the back of his head, almost as if I were in a daze. It was the tap on the back of my shoulder that snapped me back into reality. I turned around and it was one of Linda’s sisters, Cory. She leaned into my ear and whispered, “You make sure you give your godchild a strong hug, do you hear me? I’ve yet to see her daddy do that.” Her comment blind-sighted me. What was I supposed to say? I simply nodded.

The service ended and we all rode in a procession to the cemetery. Those that couldn’t fit in church were at the burial. There were several hundred people in attendance and the heat was so intense I was surprised no one passed out. I for one, was drenched beneath my suit. After the graveside remarks by the priest, the family walked solemnly by the casket and placed a red rose on it.

One of Linda’s other sisters, Reese, walked over to me and said, “I want you to stop by the house after the reception. I need to talk to you.” Reese was never a fan of Shane’s but then neither were any of Linda’s sisters. I had a feeling that he would most likely be the topic of our conversation and so I agreed to drop by.

The reception hall was on the grounds of the cemetery and the immediate family slowly filed in for punch and cookies. Why would anybody want to eat cookies and drink punch right after a burial? Sure enough, the treats went untouched. In contrast to the hellish weather outside, the reception hall felt as cold as a morgue. Awkwardness was the elephant in the room, and on a scale of one to ten, I would have to give the elephant a twelve.

Shane sat in one corner of the room sobbing uncontrollably. Linda’s third sister, Katie, sat on the opposite side of the room, staring Shane down. If eyes could shoot daggers, Shane would been assassinated right on the spot. I walked over to Katie and sat down beside her. “How are you holding up Katie?” “Look at that shit. What in the hell is he crying for? God, he makes me want to puke.” “Katie?” I asked, “Am I missing something? “James, no offense,” she answered, “but you don’t have a clue, do you?” She then got up and walked away.

At that point, I felt confused and foolish. It was like observing a play with an ambiguous storyline. Everyone else was already in Act Two, while I was stuck in Act One. I looked over at Shane and couldn’t help but notice how the years had aged him, or perhaps it was all the stress. I decided that I would go over and try to talk to him, despite the looks I was receiving from some of Linda’s family. He stopped sobbing for a moment and looked up at me with his sad blue eyes. “Are you coming back out to the farm?” He asked. “I’ll be there later this afternoon.” “That’s good. I really need you, man.”

I left the reception along with everyone else and made my way to the home of Linda’s family. Unlike the reception, real food was everywhere and the people who had declined punch and cookies were devouring honey baked ham, fried chicken, and potato salad as if it were their last meal.

I had barely finished exchanging pleasantries when Reese grabbed me by the hand and literally dragged me upstairs to one of the family’s bedrooms. She slammed the door, lit a cigarette, and started right in. “That son of a bitch did it.” The tears flowed so hard she was almost hyperventilating. “He did this. James, Linda didn’t have an accident. Even the authorities don’t really believe that. She was murdered. I know you must have considered that haven’t you?” Acids competed in my stomach to see which one would make me throw up first. “Reese, you don’t really think Shane had something to do with this do you? He may not have been the greatest husband, but he’s not a murderer.”

She began to unravel a chilling version of what she suspected might have happened. “James, Linda feared for her life. Between you and me, she even went so far as to plan her funeral. They didn’t use the service she planned, but she showed it to me on paper. Shane had been threatening her for weeks and he was the last one to see her alive. The only reason he hasn’t been arrested is because they have no proof or witnesses. Are you going out to the farm?” “Yeah, I’m headed that way now.” “Well,” she said, “Watch and observe him. I can see right through his lies and that show he put on at the reception was disgusting. Call me when you get back to California, we can talk some more.”

My head was pounding from Reese’s revelation. I drove to Shane’s full of anxiety. With so much revealed to me, I didn’t know how I would approach him. What would I ask him? How should I ask him? How resentful would he become if I probed too deep?

The scene at the farm mirrored the one at Linda’s parents’ home. Food was overflowing, practically spilling off the table. There was, however, one marked difference. There was the pungent aroma of suspicion in the air. Everyone did their best to disguise it, but the stench lingered.

“Where’s Shane?” I asked his mother. “He’s down by the pond. If he ever needed a friend, it’s now.” I walked down the hill that led to the fishpond. Shane was standing at the water’s edge. I called his name several times before he responded. “Shane are you okay?” He stared at the water as if he were in a trance and when he finally answered, his words were emotionless. “James, the night Linda died, the authorities interrogated me for eight hours. I never told you that. They think I killed her.”

That was my cue, and I wasn’t about to let it slip away. “Well, you didn’t, did you?” He looked at me with a blank expression. “No, I didn’t kill Linda. How could you even ask me that?’

He turned around and slowly walked up the hill, towards his parents’ house. I quietly followed Shane and wanted to apologize for asking him the question, but I didn’t. We continued walking in silence until we reached the veranda of his parents’ home. It was around five in the afternoon, and it was still muggy as ever. Shane and I sat in a couple of rocking chairs and continued our talk. There was no one else on the veranda but the two of us.

He began to describe, from his perspective, how the events surrounding Linda’s death unfolded. “She stopped by the house to drop off the kids. We had actually been getting along pretty well.” The moment Shane finished his first sentence, a spine-chilling clap of thunder followed by lightening came out of nowhere. It was so loud that all conversation ceased and the two of us were forced by the shear intensity of nature’s power, to sit up and take notice.

The moment passed and he continued. “I never could have harmed Linda, let alone killed her.” The rumble began again and rolled into another powerful explosion of thunder and lightning, even louder than the first.

Suddenly, the expression on his face was one of pure terror. The words out of Shane’s mouth were also loud and clear, “Let’s get the hell inside.” The sky opened and the rain began to pour.

The arrival of that storm has always caused me to stop and wonder. Something or somebody appeared to have a beef with Shane’s version of the story, or not. Maybe it was just a storm, but one cannot ignore it’s timing, as if on cue. Thirty minutes later, the rain stopped, and the sun made a final appearance before slowing setting.

The evening hours brought with it an abrupt upstaging of Linda’s post funeral gathering. As family members mingled throughout the house, attention suddenly shifted to a “Special Report” on television in the family den. There was a report out of Los Angeles of a famous former football wanted for questioning in the death of his former wife. Apparently, the celebrity was attempting to outrun the authorities on a busy Los Angeles freeway. Shane watched about five minutes, then abruptly left, returning to his trailer.

The silence in the den was palpable. I wondered how many people were thinking the same thing as they watched the television footage. Did he, do it? They weren’t referring to the former quarterback, either. I stayed with Shane and the kids that night and flew back to Los Angeles the following morning. I was never so happy to be home, grateful to become lost in the city of angels.

Several months passed and the situation surrounding Linda’s murder intensified. I hadn’t heard from Shane during that time, which was fine by me. Unfortunately, he broke his silence and suddenly, I became part of his daily call list. Talking to Shane became complicated because he made me feel as though he really needed me, that he had no one else to turn to.

It was obvious even to a blind person that Shane smelled of something, but I still couldn’t imagine him capable of murder. However, the situation really turned bizarre one evening, when Hope called me with some very disturbing news. “Shane has apparently hit the road.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well, it looks like a guy in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina was arrested for murdering your friend Linda. He confessed to the murder and stated that Shane hired him to kill her. It’s all over the news.” Her revelation made me feel nauseous. “It must be a mistake” I declared. “No, it’s no mistake and there’s a whole lot more. Your friend Shane must have gotten wind of an arrest coming his way, because he decided to take the kids on “vacation,” at least according to his father. According to the authorities, Shane is now considered a fugitive!”

We finished talking, my phone blew up with calls from back east all wanting to know if Shane had contacted me. The first was from Shane’s sister, then his brother, mother, father. Next were calls from Linda’s Mother, ending with a call from Linda’s sister Reese. “James, this is Reese. I knew they would get that son of a bitch. Have you heard what’s happening here?” “Yes, and it’s freaking me out,” I responded. “It’s not freaking me out,” she said. “I always knew he did it. Now that asshole is on the run with the kids. Everyone is extremely concerned. If he calls you, tell him to get his ass back here before he gets in worse trouble than he already is.” Somehow, I had become more involved than I had ever hoped to be.

Several days passed before anyone heard from Shane, which gave me time to reflect upon previous conversations between us that should have been seen as red flags.

Before his arrest, Shane had asked me to have a phone line installed in my apartment under his name. He was considering a move to California and wanted to get a head start on things. He explained that by having a phone line installed in my apartment, he could retrieve his calls while on vacation. It was an idea which I never agreed to, and in retrospect, I should have seen right through his plans. Shane wanted to tie me to his grand scheme.

Three days after Shane’s sudden disappearance, he called the authorities and turned himself in. He was found alone at a church where he had apparently attempted suicide and failed. The children were safe and had been dropped off at his parents before his dramatic ending.

Shane’s trial lasted for a month and at the end of that month, many lives had been shattered. His parents hired two of the best defense lawyers in the state of South Carolina, but the prosecutors said right up front that it was an open and shut case. They built their case around their key witness, Larry Scott. When Scott took the stand, bile poured out of his mouth like a busted sewer.

He claimed that Shane approached him in a topless bar in Columbia and asked if he could get rid of a package. According to the prosecutors, that was when the plan was put into action. Larry Scott stated that he was instructed by Shane to arrive at a specified location on June 12, 1994. Then Shane drove him to another location where he was instructed to wait in the woods until Shane’s arrival with Linda.

The prosecutors stated that Linda dropped the children off at Shane’s earlier in the afternoon and that was when Shane persuaded her to go for a ride. During that ride, Shane produced a gun and began to pistol whip Linda into a state of unconsciousness. When he arrived at the site where Scott was waiting in the woods, Shane instructed Scott to, “Finish the job.” Larry then took a set of bolt cutters and crushed the back of Linda’s neck. Shane returned to his property on foot, which was less than a mile away, burned all the evidence, such as clothes he was wearing, and resumed caring for the kids as though nothing had happened.

Larry then drove Linda’s car while she lay dead on the seat beside him to a location where his car had been parked earlier in the day, to make a clean get away. The plan was for him to push Linda’s car down a ravine. The hope was that the car wouldn’t be found for days, perhaps even months and by that time all traces of evidence would have been destroyed. Unfortunately for him, the car got stuck in a ditch. Larry panicked, abandoned the plan, jumped into his car, and drove away. A woman found the car with Linda inside a few hours later and called the authorities. First impressions by the authorities caused them to conclude that the “accident” was no accident at all.

Strangely enough, with all the evidence brought forth, there was one statement that put the nail on the coffin. Shane’s own son testified that he saw his mother and father drive away together that Sunday afternoon she was killed. It was in direct conflict to Shane’s statement which said that he never got in the car with Linda.

The prosecutors wrapped their case up with a powerful closing. “Even if Shane did not take the bolt cutters himself and crush the back of Linda’s neck. He hired Larry Scott to do it and so Shane is just as guilty as if he had done it himself because “The hand of one is the hand of all.”

In the end, Shane was convicted and sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole. Larry Scott plea bargained and was given a lesser sentence, 25-30 years with no chance for parole.

I never thought of Shane as an evil person, but he was obviously troubled with a splintered conscious that had misguided him. Did he really think he could get away with a murder? God watches over his angels and truth always prevails. Although we can never have Linda back, in the end, justice was well served. Such are the consequences for foolish men who have lost their way.