Blood and Justice

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Fourteen Years Ago

JEREMY was ten years old when he first visited his father in prison. They arrived a half-hour early to the prison’s visitor center, a small building situated outside of the prison grounds. His mother showed her identification, which was carefully scrutinized by a squinty-eyed attendant, and then they were allowed into the waiting room. Here they had to put everything they were carrying into a locker.

Jeremy looked around him at the families, the loners, and some old guy fidgeting with his hands, sitting straight as a rail on a seat at the far wall. People of all kinds. Jeremy had never seen so many scary characters. Some looked like they could bite the head off nails. The glare from a bearded and heavily tattooed man caused Jeremy to cower in fear and cling to his mother. Tattoo gave Jeremy a menacing grin. He quickly looked away. This is a terrible place, he thought. Why is my daddy here?

In a few minutes a corrections officer escorted them to the main prison. Here they were searched.

Jeremy didn’t like being searched. He didn’t like the man doing the search. He was rough, and he didn’t like it when the man touched him in a place where he knew nobody else should touch him. It made him afraid and all cold inside.

After the search, they were taken to the visits hall. The room was filled with rows of tables, seated inmates, and visitors. There was a guard in each corner of the room. Jeremy saw his father already seated and waiting for them.

His father stood, kissed his mother, and gave Jeremy a quick hug. That’s all that was allowed.

A guard was eyeing them closely as thirty-two year old Quinton Spencer sat back down. His five years in Kingston Penitentiary had taken a toll on him. He appeared much older, and had a much rougher exterior than he had had five years ago. His short-cropped hair showed some silver at the temples. Nonetheless, he was still an attractive man. Even handsome. But still, facing another five years behind bars, he looked, and felt defeated.

“Hi Jeremy,” his father said gently, and smiled. “You have grown a lot.”

“When are you coming home daddy?”

“It will be a while yet son.”

Quinton thought back to that night six years ago. Back before this had all started. He had done a good job of keeping the farm up. He had been successful, and the mortgage on their property had been paid off. He had a beautiful wife, a little boy, and life was pretty good.

Then one night their life was shattered.

Annette Spencer was awakened suddenly. She was sure she had heard something in the house. She reached over and gently awakened her husband.

“I think there’s somebody in the house,” she whispered.

Quinton was immediately alert. He didn’t hear anything, but he dropped carefully out of bed, went to the closet and retrieved his Remington Model 7 hunting rifle. He crept across the dim bedroom and gently opened the door to the hallway. As he felt his way silently toward the stairs, he peeked inside Jeremy’s room. He was fast asleep. As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard some rustling downstairs.

The house was old, and the steps creaked a little as he gradually made his way down, and toward the kitchen. The half moon was bright enough to allow enough vision to avoid chairs, tables, and furniture.

The rustling noise was coming from the living room. The sound of drawers opening and closing. Hugging the wall, he inched steadily toward the sound of the intruder. He held his rifle in a firing position. Bolt back, safety off, ready to fire.