BooksBarbecue
Back Legacy of Lies Save as PDF
Chapters (88)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. PART ONE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. PART TWO
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. PART THREE
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. 59
  67. PART FOUR
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. 73
  82. 74
  83. 75
  84. 76
  85. 77
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  88. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“You know what you are, Bocephus. An Uncle Tom. You love being rich and playing the white man’s game. What did you help me for? Build old Booker T. up so you can tear me down? That it? Are you sick like that? Well, fuck you!”

Bo reached his Tahoe and climbed inside.

“You hear me, cousin. You can go to hell! You can—”

The sound of the door slamming shut mercifully drowned out his cousin’s screams.

fleuron

Ten minutes later, Bo sat in Bonita Spencer’s living room on Pecan Grove Drive. “Could this have been the decal you saw on the Ford truck that was driving slowly down the street the night of April 1, 2015?” he asked, holding his breath for the answer as she went through the photographs on his phone. He had held off as long as he possibly could to have this interview, but now he was out of time.

Bonita took her glasses off and brought her face to within a couple of inches of the phone. Then she put her glasses back on and held the device as far from her as she could. “Well, I’ll be.”

Bo’s chest constricted. “You’ll be what?”

“Damned, Mr. Haynes,” she said, looking at him with a smile. “That is the truck I saw. I thought it was the Confederate flag on the back, but the background wasn’t red. It was gray like this. And it wasn’t an X that I saw. The decal was crooked, so it looked like an X, but it wasn’t.” She paused and placed her hands over her eyes. “How could I ever confuse a symbol like the Confederate flag with that?” she said, pointing at the picture as Bocephus Haynes’s mouth went dry.

“I don’t know, ma’am,” he managed as he gazed at the photograph of the back window of Booker T. Rowe’s truck, which didn’t have a Confederate flag emblazoned on it but rather the universal symbol of Christianity.

The sign of the cross.

62

62

How could I have been so stupid? Bo thought as he drove the back roads of Giles County, finally pulling into the parking lot of the Bickland Creek Baptist Church. For forty years, his uncle Booker T. Rowe Sr. had been the pastor of this small congregation. And though Booker T. Sr. had passed away nearly a decade ago, Booker T. Jr. was still a regular attendee, and to show his pride in the church his father had founded, he’d stuck an emblem on the back of his Ford F-150 truck.