Guilty! -- But A Long Time Coming
James Seale, a former Mississippi Deputy Sheriff, was at least a second generation member of the White Knights Ku Klux Klan when his path and those of Henry Dee and Charles Moore crossed.
1964 was a leap year. May 2nd was a typical lazy Saturday afternoon in a small southern town. Henry and Charlie were from the railroad town Roxie, out thumbing rides. They likely swapped dreams, teased about girls, and talked about the car they would buy when they got rich. At nineteen they had another seventy years to get life right. Seale was twenty-nine.
Henry and Charlie were ten miles from home standing next to the Meadville ice cream stand when Clyde and James Seale, father and son, drove past them. Neither Henry nor Charlie put out his thumb to ask for a lift.
After James dropped his dad off to get his pickup, he went back. He motioned for them to join him. The teens must have felt luck on their side as they thanked James for a ride and plopped down.
In the meantime, Clyde gathered associates. "Kiwu!" he shouted. (Klansman, I want you.) The response was immediate and included Clyde's son Jack, as well as neighbor Charles Edwards. Clyde was the Grand Cyclops, president, of the local den.
Soon into the ride Henry and Charlie sensed something was awry. James Seale enforced his control. "Looky jere, now. I's a G-man, a revenue agent. Been lookin fer whiskey stills. Bet ya'll seen thangs 'roun har." A surge of fear hit. "No, Sir. We's dunno nuttin. Canst you let us out now, Sir?"
"Ah, ya'll dun wanna be walkin out jher on that hot tar." Seale was playing cat and mouse. He reached for his walkie talkie radio and mumbled to someone in the pickup that was following, now carrying four men. The response was mostly static, but Seale said, "They's some mo G-men needin ta yak ta ya'll."
Seale turned into Homochitto National Forrest. His white Volkswagen bumped along, then stopped. While the boys got out, Clyde's pickup roared up and the occupants bolted toward Henry and Charlie. James Seale aimed his sawed off shotgun.
The klansmen accused Henry of being a Black Panther. Their evidence was that he had black skin, wore a black bandana, and had lived in Chicago. Charlie just had black skin.
Feeling certain that Henry knew guns were stockpiled, the klansmen tied them both to a tree and took turns hitting them with bean sticks. During the beatings, the klansmen laughed, mocked and tormented their prey. "Now, boy," Edwards chided in his southern drawl, "is ya'll right with the Lord?"
Desperate for them to stop, the teens fibbed that guns were stored in a Roxie black church. After each received about forty blows, the klansmen quit.
Henry and Charlie, flesh pulverized, were taken down. The Klansmen split up. Some took the mutilated boys to the Grand Cyclops' farm. Klansman Parker took off to Louisiana to get his red Ford. Edwards drove to the Franklin County Courthouse and picked up Sheriff Wayne Hutto to go search the black Roxie church.
At the farm, James Seale taped Dee and Moore's mouth. He bound their hands. Finally, Parker made it back in his Ford. James Seale lined the trunk with a tarp. The klansmen stuffed the teens inside. They left the farm and drove to Louisiana. When they opened the trunk, they were flabbergasted that both boys were alive.
Using a metal chain, the klansmen tied a jeep block and railroad rails to the teen's feet.
The Seale brothers boated Henry and Charlie out on the mighty Mississippi River, one at a time, using two of Parker's boats. On his last trip, James Seale asked, "Do you know what's fixin to happen to ya now, boy?" The teen whispered, "Yes." Seale shoved. The water splashed.
A month later a fisherman discovered body parts and five months after that, divers found one teen's skull. James Seale and Edwards were arrested that year but it was the deep South and the dead kids were black. All charges were dismissed.
Forty-three years after those boat rides the feds indicted James Seale. Last week a jury of eight whites and four blacks found 71 year old Seale guilty. In August, the black Judge will likely sentence Seale to life imprisonment which will be merciful compared to the cruel death Seale imposed on Henry and Charlie.
Edwards is legally free. He received immunity from prosecution in exchange for testimony.
© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007
1964 was a leap year. May 2nd was a typical lazy Saturday afternoon in a small southern town. Henry and Charlie were from the railroad town Roxie, out thumbing rides. They likely swapped dreams, teased about girls, and talked about the car they would buy when they got rich. At nineteen they had another seventy years to get life right. Seale was twenty-nine.
Henry and Charlie were ten miles from home standing next to the Meadville ice cream stand when Clyde and James Seale, father and son, drove past them. Neither Henry nor Charlie put out his thumb to ask for a lift.
After James dropped his dad off to get his pickup, he went back. He motioned for them to join him. The teens must have felt luck on their side as they thanked James for a ride and plopped down.
In the meantime, Clyde gathered associates. "Kiwu!" he shouted. (Klansman, I want you.) The response was immediate and included Clyde's son Jack, as well as neighbor Charles Edwards. Clyde was the Grand Cyclops, president, of the local den.
Soon into the ride Henry and Charlie sensed something was awry. James Seale enforced his control. "Looky jere, now. I's a G-man, a revenue agent. Been lookin fer whiskey stills. Bet ya'll seen thangs 'roun har." A surge of fear hit. "No, Sir. We's dunno nuttin. Canst you let us out now, Sir?"
"Ah, ya'll dun wanna be walkin out jher on that hot tar." Seale was playing cat and mouse. He reached for his walkie talkie radio and mumbled to someone in the pickup that was following, now carrying four men. The response was mostly static, but Seale said, "They's some mo G-men needin ta yak ta ya'll."
Seale turned into Homochitto National Forrest. His white Volkswagen bumped along, then stopped. While the boys got out, Clyde's pickup roared up and the occupants bolted toward Henry and Charlie. James Seale aimed his sawed off shotgun.
The klansmen accused Henry of being a Black Panther. Their evidence was that he had black skin, wore a black bandana, and had lived in Chicago. Charlie just had black skin.
Feeling certain that Henry knew guns were stockpiled, the klansmen tied them both to a tree and took turns hitting them with bean sticks. During the beatings, the klansmen laughed, mocked and tormented their prey. "Now, boy," Edwards chided in his southern drawl, "is ya'll right with the Lord?"
Desperate for them to stop, the teens fibbed that guns were stored in a Roxie black church. After each received about forty blows, the klansmen quit.
Henry and Charlie, flesh pulverized, were taken down. The Klansmen split up. Some took the mutilated boys to the Grand Cyclops' farm. Klansman Parker took off to Louisiana to get his red Ford. Edwards drove to the Franklin County Courthouse and picked up Sheriff Wayne Hutto to go search the black Roxie church.
At the farm, James Seale taped Dee and Moore's mouth. He bound their hands. Finally, Parker made it back in his Ford. James Seale lined the trunk with a tarp. The klansmen stuffed the teens inside. They left the farm and drove to Louisiana. When they opened the trunk, they were flabbergasted that both boys were alive.
Using a metal chain, the klansmen tied a jeep block and railroad rails to the teen's feet.
The Seale brothers boated Henry and Charlie out on the mighty Mississippi River, one at a time, using two of Parker's boats. On his last trip, James Seale asked, "Do you know what's fixin to happen to ya now, boy?" The teen whispered, "Yes." Seale shoved. The water splashed.
A month later a fisherman discovered body parts and five months after that, divers found one teen's skull. James Seale and Edwards were arrested that year but it was the deep South and the dead kids were black. All charges were dismissed.
Forty-three years after those boat rides the feds indicted James Seale. Last week a jury of eight whites and four blacks found 71 year old Seale guilty. In August, the black Judge will likely sentence Seale to life imprisonment which will be merciful compared to the cruel death Seale imposed on Henry and Charlie.
Edwards is legally free. He received immunity from prosecution in exchange for testimony.
© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2007
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