Mississippi Midnight

“Wait, there must be some mistake. Pop, do something, don’t let them take her!” Mother Lawrence was frantic and beside herself with terror as one of the deputies began to put the handcuffs on Shelly.

“Now, hold on now Sheriff…Let’s just talk about this for a minute..” Pop Lawrence began as Sherriff Walton put up his hand, palm almost touching Pop’s face. Pop and Mother’s words meant nothing. In their eyes, at that moment, Shelly was just another “nigger criminal”; as the deputy so boldly said as he was forcing the cuffs onto her delicate wrists. These were not wrists made for handcuffs, nor was Michelle Marian Lawrence a criminal. Somebody had to be the scapegoat and God in heaven knows it won’t be one of them.

Sherriff Walton put his hand on Pop’s shoulder: “Let’s me and you step out on the porch for a second”, he said while still chewing a mouthful of snuff. Walton turns to the deputy, still holding on to Shelly, and motions for him to sit her down on the couch. “We’ll be back directly”, he said dryly as he put his hat back on and walked out of the door. Pop followed behind him.

As they walked onto the porch Pop took notice that there were about four or five neighbors standing near the end of the long dirt driveway; looking on with curiosity. The two cop cars in front of the house still had their lights flashing. It was clear to Pop that this was purposely done so that everyone around would take notice. Nothing like this ever happens around here.

Walton leans over the wooden rail and spits the gooey brown tobacco out of his mouth, using his sleeve to wipe his lips. Sheriff Walton was a Good Ole Boy through and through. Mother Lawrence often referred to him as that “sleuth-footed red-neck peckerwood”.

“Now, Johnnie, we got us a problem here”. He said as he pulled his pants up, repositioned his gun belt, and began to pace back and forth on the rickety wooden porch.

“Now Sherriff, you know we good people. We go to work, go to church, and we minds our business. My Shell ain’t done this” Pop said, as he took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow nervously.

The Sherriff moved closer to Pop; he had a somewhat conflicted look on his face. He stood directly in front of John Taylor Lawrence and looked him directly into his hazel brown eyes; those eyes that had seen so much in his 54 years. Walton sighed and leaned in: “I’m inclined to believe you on that. But you and I both know that my jail cell is probably the safest place for your girl til we get this thing cleared up.” He said in a hushed tone, after which he took several steps back.

Pop Lawrence knew what he meant. This was summer 1955 in Coahoma County Mississippi and tensions were already high. The divisions that always existed were beyond apparent in this climate. Pop knew that the Klan could easily show up in the middle of the night and burn the house down, or worse. Without another word being said, the two walked back into the house where Mother was pacing back and forth lamenting to God, “Lord have mercy Jesus” she kept saying over and over.

“Deputy, please put Ms. Lawrence there in the car please”, Sherriff said as he took his hat off.

“No! Jesus Please!” Mother Lawrence howled in a painful voice that only a mother, a black mother in Jim Crow Mississippi would understand. Pop walked over and grabbed his wife’s hand and shoulder, comforting her.

“It’s okay Mother. We’ll get this thing worked out,” He gave her that look. The look that said there’s more that I can’t say right now. And with that, the deputy led Shelly out the door, in cuffs to the waiting car. Sherriff Walton followed behind them. He paused at the door and turned around, looking at Pop with his steely blue eyes, and put on his hat. He tipped it to them as he walked out the door.

Mother Lawrence fell into her husband’s arms and sobbed; she was inconsolable. All he could do was hold his wife and rub her back. There were really no words he could say at that moment that would bring her comfort. The only thing she wanted was her baby girl, back home safe.

Down at the jail, meanwhile, Sherriff Walton locks the door to the cell. Shelly walks over to the iron-framed bed, more like a cot than a bed, and takes a seat. She wraps herself in her wool sweater, looking around at the dark gray walls. The only light is a dim light in the hall and the moonlight peering through the bars from the window just above her head. She is thinking to herself: “How could this happen”.

After about an hour, of what seemed like many hours, Deputy Carl taps on the bars to get her attention.

“You got a visitor”, He said gruffly as he walked off.

Then suddenly, a tall slender man in what was surely an expensive suit approaches and stands in front of the bars. He looked somewhat familiar, but she could not see his face clearly.

“Ms. Lawrence” His southern drawl was suddenly recognizable. It was Judge Warren, whom she and her mother worked for as domestics.

“Judge”, she said, still confused.

“Michelle, I need you to listen to me very carefully”, he said quietly and in a serious tone.

“Yes Sir” she replied curiously.

He took out his gold pocket watch, opened it, and looked at Shell. “Come here child”, he insisted.

She did as he requested: slowly rising and walking over toward the barred doors. “Yes Sir, Judge”, she spoke quietly.

“At exactly midnight you will open this door. You will walk out of the back, and there will be a car waiting. You are to get in that car and say absolutely nothing” he explained as he put his index finger to his lips as if to emphasize his point. He continued: “You will be driven 65 miles, across the State line to Memphis. There you will meet my associate Mrs. Taylor; you do remember her?” He quizzed.

“Yes Sir. But, I don’t understand.” She said as her heart began to beat faster, and she began to feel herself become flustered with thoughts. She wondered if she might be dreaming all of this.

“Young lady, it’s not for you to understand; but to do as I tell you. Your very life depends on it. Your parents have been made aware of this arrangement. Now, once you get to Memphis you and Mrs. Taylor will board a train: the 2:00 am express to Chicago. Now, do you understand everything I’ve just told you?” He looked at her matter-of-factly.

She paused and grabbed the bars as if to steady herself.

“Michelle, do you understand what I have instructed you to do?” he persisted.

“Ummm, I mean... Yes sir. I hear you. But I can’t right say that I understand.” She said still seeming dazed by the mysteriousness of it all.

“Again, I don’t need you to understand. I just need you to do it. I owe your mother. I promised her you would be safe.” He said as he put his watch back in his pocket.

“Yes Sir, I understand", she said as she paced the room nervously.

“Good girl. Just remember midnight. What time does your watch say?” He motioned to his wrist.

“Well sir, it's 9:45”, she said as she strained to see the time in the dim light.

“Perfect. Everything should go as planned. And remember, say nothing until you get to Memphis and meet Mrs. Taylor.” He put on his hat and walked away, leaving Shelly more scared and confused than when she first walked into the cell.

Shelly walked back over to the cold iron bed and sat down, looking up into the darkness of night through the barred window. Somehow, she knew that her life would never be the same. All she could do now is wait until midnight.