He was raised in Ford County, and he was kin to most of the blacks and a few of the whites. After desegregation in the late sixties, he was a member of the first mixed graduating class at Clanton High School. He wanted to play football nearby at Ole Miss, but there were already two blacks on the team. He starred instead at Alcorn State, and was a defensive tackle for the Rams when a knee injury sent him back to Clanton. He missed football, but enjoyed being the high sheriff, especially at election time when he received more white votes than his white opponents. The white kids loved him because he was a hero, a football star who had played on TV and had his picture in magazines. Their parents respected him and voted for him because he was a tough cop who did not discriminate between black punks and white punks. The white politicians supported him because, since he became the sheriff, the Justice Department stayed out of Ford County. The blacks adored him because he was Ozzie, one of their own.
He skipped supper and waited in his office at the jail for Hastings to report from the Hailey house. He had a suspect. Billy Ray Cobb was no stranger to the sheriff’s office. Ozzie knew he sold drugs—he just couldn’t catch him. He also knew Cobb had a mean streak.
The dispatcher called in the deputies, and as they reported to the jail Ozzie gave them instructions to locate, but not arrest, Billy Ray Cobb. There were twelve deputies in all—nine white and three black. They fanned out across the county in search of a fancy yellow Ford pickup with a rebel flag in the rear window.
When Hastings arrived he and the sheriff left for the Ford County hospital. As usual, Hastings drove and Ozzie gave orders on the radio. In the waiting room on the second floor they found the Hailey clan. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, friends, and strangers crowded into the small room and some waited in the narrow hallway. There were whispers and quiet tears. Tonya was in surgery.
Carl Lee sat on a cheap plastic couch in a dark corner with Gwen next to him and the boys next to her. He stared at the floor and did not notice the crowd. Gwen laid her head on his shoulder and cried softly. The boys sat rigidly with their hands on knees, occasionally glancing at their father as if waiting on words of reassurance.
Ozzie worked his way through the crowd, quietly shaking hands and patting backs and whispering that he would catch them. He knelt before Carl Lee and Gwen. “How is she?” he asked. Carl Lee did not see him. Gwen cried louder and the boys sniffed and wiped tears. He patted Gwen on the knee and stood. One of her brothers led Ozzie and Hastings out of the room into the hall, away from the family. He shook Ozzie’s hand and thanked him for coming.
“How is she?” Ozzie asked.
“Not too good. She’s in surgery and most likely will be there for a while. She’s got broken bones and a bad concussion. She’s beat up real bad. There’s rope burns on her neck like they tried to hang her.”
“Was she raped?” he asked, certain of the answer.
“Yeah. She told her momma they took turns on her and hurt her real bad. Doctors confirmed it.”
“How’s Carl Lee and Gwen?”
“They’re tore up pretty bad. I think they’re in shock. Carl Lee ain’t said a word since he got here.”
Ozzie assured him they would find the two men, and it wouldn’t take long, and when they found them they would be locked up someplace safe. The brother suggested he should hide them in another jail, for their own safety.
________
Three miles out of Clanton, Ozzie pointed to a gravel driveway. “Pull in there,” he told Hastings, who turned off the highway and drove into the front yard of a dilapidated house trailer. It was almost dark.
Ozzie took his nightstick and banged violently on the front door. “Open up, Bumpous!”
The trailer shook and Bumpous scrambled to the bathroom to flush a fresh joint.
“Open up, Bumpous!” Ozzie banged. “I know you’re in there. Open up or I’ll kick in the door.”
Bumpous yanked the door open and Ozzie walked in. “You know, Bumpous, evertime I visit you I smell somethin’ funny and the commode’s flushin’. Get some clothes on. I gotta job for you.”
“W-what?”
“I’ll explain it outside where I can breathe. Just get some clothes on and hurry.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Fine. I’ll see your parole officer tomorrow.”
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
Ozzie smiled and walked to his car. Bobby Bumpous was one of his favorites. Since his parole two years earlier, he had led a reasonably clean life, occasionally succumbing to the lure of an easy drug sale for a quick buck. Ozzie watched him like a hawk and knew of such transactions, and Bumpous knew Ozzie knew; therefore, Bumpous was usually most eager to help his friend, Sheriff Walls. The plan was to eventually use Bumpous to nail Billy Ray Cobb for dealing, but that would be postponed for now.
After a few minutes he marched outside, still tucking his shirttail and zipping his pants. “Who you lookin’ for?” he demanded.
“Billy Ray Cobb.”
“That’s no problem. You can find him without me.”
“Shut up and listen. We think Cobb was involved in a rape this afternoon. A black girl was raped by two white men, and I think Cobb was there.”
“Cobb ain’t into rape, Sheriff. He’s into drugs, remember?”
“Shut up and listen. You find Cobb and spend some time with him. Five minutes ago his truck was spotted at Huey’s. Buy him a beer. Shoot some pool, roll dice, whatever. Find out what he did today. Who was he with? Where’d he go? You know how he likes to talk, right?”
“Right.”
“Call the dispatcher when you find him. They’ll call me. I’ll be somewhere close. You understand?”
“Sure, Sheriff. No problem.”
“Any questions?”
“Yeah. I’m broke. Who’s gonna pay for this?”
Ozzie handed him a twenty and left. Hastings drove in the direction of Huey’s, down by the lake.
“You sure you can trust him?” Hastings asked.
“Who?”
“That Bumpous kid.”
“Sure I trust him. He’s proved very reliable since he was paroled. He’s a good kid tryin’ to go straight, for the most part. He supports his local sheriff and would do anything I ask.”
“Why?”
“Because I caught him with ten ounces of pot a year ago. He’d been outta jail about a year when I caught his brother with an ounce, and I told him he was lookin’ at thirty years. He started cryin’ and carryin’ on, cried all night in his cell. By mornin’ he was ready to talk. Told me his supplier was his brother, Bobby. So I let him go and went to see Bobby. I knocked on his door and I could hear the commode flushin’. He wouldn’t come to the door, so I kicked it in. I found him in his underwear in the bathroom tryin’ to unstop the commode. There was dope all over the place. Don’t know how much he flushed, but most of it was comin’ back out in the overflow. Scared him so bad he wet his drawers.”
“You kiddin’?”
“Nope. The kid pissed all over himself. He was a sight standin’ there with wet drawers, a plunger in one hand, dope in the other, and the room fillin’ up with commode water.”