Trial of INJUSTICE is about a pastor arrested for the crime of FIRST DEGREE MURDER!
On a Thursday morning in Banker, Alabama the body of a twenty-one year-old woman was discovered murdered. After the police and forensics inspected, with the help of eyewitnesses and fingerprints, the man responsible for the heinous crime was identified as Pastor Thaddeus Ganvis.
Charles ‘Esquire’ Everson, a man gifted with determination and an avenger of truth, became the most prestigious and sought after lawyer in the state of Alabama, due to his unwavering litigation skills. After finishing another victorious case, he returned to his office. As the day continued, he found himself logging into Facebook, and nearly dropped his phone when he discovered that his former pastor was arrested for first-degree murder.
Without a second thought, he flew to Banker, Alabama to prove the innocence of a godly man. Along the way he discovers the opposition that threatens. (less)
Chapter Chaptrer One
Banker Inn Hotel Room 226
A scream resounded in the room and echoed along the hallway of The Banker Inn Hotel. The housekeeper darted out the room, and took off running downstairs, tears streaming against her blushed cheeks. She pounded on the front desk and reported her findings.
When the police and ambulance arrived, a twenty-one-year-old woman was found murdered.
Sheriff Rudolph entered the room with an exaggerated smirk on his face. He studied the room and gazed at paramedics carrying the body away. In the far corner, next to the lamp, his heart skipped a beat when he locked in on a white plastic glove. He rushed over and stuffed the glove in his pocket. As soon as he turned around, Chad Weller greeted him.
“How are you doing, Sheriff Rudolph?” His eyes flashed with excitement. “I want to thank you personally for calling me.” He took out a small camera and inserted a SD card. “I can’t believe we have a murder in town, and I’m the first reporter to the scene! I know this is going to get me brownie points. Thank you again for a calling, sheriff.”
Sheriff Rudolph wiped the beads of sweat crawling down his forehead. “This goes against protocol but I’ll allow it this time. The crime scene technicians have already retrieved the necessary information. So go ahead and take pictures, but don’t touch anything.” He walked away and stopped at the door. “When you’re finished, come see me and I’ll tell you who committed this crime.”
Chad nodded and closed one eye as he flashed a picture.
When Sheriff Rudolph made it to his car, he took his phone out.
“Sir, it’s complete. The body has been taken away.”
“Good. Has Thaddeus Ganvis been arrested?”
Sheriff Rudolph turned the ignition. “I’m about to dispatch my deputies now.”
“Make sure everything go as planned. The ball is in your court. Don’t mess this up.”
“Yes sir. You can count on me. I won’t fail.”
At 3:15a.m., two police cars zoomed through the pouring rain of Banker and turned down the street of the suspect’s home. Minutes before pulling into the driveway, Deputy Macabe grabbed his radio.
“We’ve arrived at the home of Thaddeus Ganvis, 316 John Avenue. Stand by.”
Several minutes later, Pastor Ganvis rose from his bed with a deep frown. His wife opened her eyes, glanced over at the clock, and looked at him.
“Who is that beating on our door at this time of morning?”
He slid in to his slippers and reached for his robe. “I don’t know, but I’m about to go find out.”
By the time he got a few feet away from the front door, the pounding increased. He peered out the peephole and opened the door.
“Can I help you, officers?”
The sergeant standing in front of him took a few steps backwards. His hand hovered an inch above his gun. “Are you Thaddeus Ganvis?”
“Yes, that’s him,” Deputy Macabe said, pushing a ball of snuff to the other side of his mouth. “I can recognize that dark face anywhere.”
“I am Pastor Thaddeus Ganvis. How can I help you?”
Cynthia entered the front room, typing the strap on her robe. “What is going on?”
He glanced back and threw up a hand. “Let me handle this, honey.”
The two officers on the edge of the porch made their way closer to the door. Pastor Ganvis stared at them for a few seconds and turned his attention back to the officer in front of him. He narrowed his eyes down at the badge and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robe. “Now, Sergeant Pertule, what seems to be the problem?”
The short, stocky officer with pale skin to the right of him took a step backwards and yanked his gun out. The other officers followed his lead.
Pertule reached for his gun. “Take your hands out of your pockets!” He swallowed slowly and paused. “Please don’t do anything you’ll regret. I can’t stop them from … Please, just take your hands out of your pockets.”
Pastor Ganvis threw his hands up, eyes widening. “Hey! Calm down! I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t have a weapon!”
Cynthia screamed and ran up behind him. “Please don’t shoot.”
“Move an inch and I’ll put two bullets in you,” Jefferson said, aiming his gun.
“I just want him to flinch,” Macabe said, aiming his gun. “Make a move. That’s all I want.”
Pertule motioned the other officers. “Lower your guns. That’s an order!” He turned to his right. “Macabe, take your hand off the trigger.”
Macabe released the bite off his bottom lip and lowered his gun.
Pertule took the handcuffs off his belt.
“Thaddeus Ganvis, you’re under arrest for the murder of Tina Crenshaw. You have the right to—”
Cynthia stepped in front of him. “You are not going to arrest my husband!”
Macabe pushed her aside with his arm. “Ma’am, please let us do our job. Stay out of our way.”
Cynthia knocked his arm down. “You get out of the way.”
His brow wrinkled as he bit down on his bottom lip. Then, he shoved her back down to the carpet with his arm and pointed.
“Woman I said let us do our—”
A shriek escaped Macabe’ s lips. His breathing stilted as his vision became dark. Pastor Ganvis’ massive hands locked around his neck like a python.
“Have you lost your mind? Don’t ever put your hands on my wife! Do you hear me?”
Within seconds, Jefferson and the other officers struck Pastor Ganvis with their sticks until he released his grip. Macabe fell to the ground, huffing and puffing. When his face returned to its normal pale color, he jumped back to his feet and pressed the barrel of his gun to Pastor Ganvis’ forehead.
“Macabe! No!” Sergeant Pertule yelled. “We have orders!”
Macabe pushed the barrel deeper. “I don’t care!” Saliva dripped from his crusted lips. “I ought to blow his head clean off!” He let out a few coughs. “Stupid preacher had no business putting his hands on me! I’m the law. His woman should’ve been trained properly.”
Pastor Ganvis’ anger mounted. His eyes tightened as he clenched his fists. “You have five seconds to take this gun out my face or I’ll make you use it. Five … four … three … two …”
“Thaddeus,” Cynthia screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Please don’t do it.”
“Macabe!” Pertule called out. “Sheriff Rudolph gave us direct orders. Are you going to go against his command? I’ll tell him you disobeyed and took matters into your own hands.”
Macabe glared over, exhaled, and lowered his gun. He paused and then spat on Pastor Ganvis’ slippers.
Pastor Ganvis glanced down, pushed out a gasp of air, and unclenched his fists.
“The rest of you go back and get in the squad cars,” Pertule commanded. “The situation is under control.” He looked over at Jefferson. “You can go wait at the car with the rest of them.”
Jefferson walked off mumbling.
Pertule waited a second more and continued. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.” He paused. “Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?”
“Yes,” Pastor Ganvis said, looking over at his wife. “Go get my shoes.”
She rushed to the back and brought a change of shoes. As soon as he slid into them, Macabe escorted him to the car.
“Mrs. Ganvis,” Pertule said, taking out a card. “I’m sorry about the way my colleagues behaved. Forgive them. There is no excuse for their behavior.”
She took the card and never moved her eyes from the police car. Tears crawled down in streaks with each passing second.
Pertule glanced back at the car. “Once again I’m sorry ma’am.” He took a deep swallow and slowly shook hid head. “There is no excuse for my fellow officer’s behavior. You can call down to the station in the morning. If you have a lawyer, now is a good time to call him.”