I hope you have been enjoying The Good Shepherd series. It’s been a bit since I posted the last portion of the story. I was on vacation in Holland. I’m back now; So Jerome can breathe again. If you have missed any of Jerome’s previous adventures you can find them all right here: http://wp.me/P39vIx-j1

The Good Shepherd Pt. 9

     The trial was thick fog and morning. Thoughts of my mother burning, Anna burning, Silhouette screaming as Tyson’s dogs licked her blood interspersed themselves with bits of testimony.

    “He hid me in the river to save my life.”

     “Broke the law!”

     “They were a terrorist threat.”

     “If I hadn’t  helped him escape, he’d be dead! We came here for help.”

     “How would I know where he got the food to feed those ruffians?”

     “It was his personal store of food that fed us.”

     I sat through the days of confession staring at the heart shape made by my fingers. God was there in my madness. Jesus was there in my grief and loss.

     Then I heard a voice from the jury box.

     “Vengeance is mine,” it said.

     My head shot up, a pointer watching a dove fall from the sky. The whole courtroom followed my indicative gaze. I followed my head as it turned to Tyson in the hot seat. I smiled and leaned back in my chair for the first time during the trial. The wind changed direction with the next question.

     “Did the Bone Brothers receive a trial by jury?”

     “They were terrorists!” Tyson screamed.

     The defense attorney just smiled, “Ah and the defendant’s mother. Was she a terrorist?”

     “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Tyson returned.

     “Answer the question sir.” The judge ordered.

     “She gave aid and comfort to the enemy.”

     “You mean the Bone Brothers?” my lawyer asked.

     “Yes.”

     “And Anna Hodkins?”

     “Her too!” Tyson breathed. it was almost a whistle between his teeth.

     “How old was Anna Hodkins sir?”

     “I don’t know.” Tyson’s voice scraped his jangled nerves  like sandpaper against rough wood.

     “Wasn’t she in fact eighty-seven?”

    “What does that have to do with Jerome?” Tyson spat.

    “Was Jerome’s mother arrested and tried?”

     “No.”

    “Anna Hodgkins?”

    “No. They never got to trial. An unfortunate house fire took their lives.” Tyson smiled.

     My lawyer was unruffled, “Ah I see and what about Silhouette Saaronen? Did she die in the house fire?”

     He spent the next hour fitting Tyson for the noose. IN the end it was Tyson’s shadow  and those of seven of his men that crossed my line of vision at the fire station that night as the lights winked on once again in Winchendon. The crowds applauded as the street lights illuminated the gloaming making the world a darker place with the deaths they revealed. It was justice and I knew my heart reveled in it just a bit too much. The age of grace was winding down.