I went over to Pensacola, to the Sears there, after they fixed me up at the clinic. I still got Buck's Sears card, so I charged it. I was so scared, Mr. Brown. And when I heard that old pickup of his pull up, I knew he meant to do me, I knew it.'
The woman started to cry again.
'Did you see the gun in his hand before you shot?'
I don't know. It was dark and I was so scared.
Tanny Brown spoke quietly but firmly. He kept the photo album with the children's pictures in his hands.
'Now think hard, Missus Collins. What did you see…?' The police lieutenant looked over at the uniformed officer, who nodded his head in comprehension. 'Now, you wouldn't have shot unless you saw him' raise that gun right at you, right?'
The woman stared at him quizzically.
'You wouldn't have shot unless you were in fear for your life, right?'
'Right, she replied slowly.
'Not unless you knew deadly force was the only available recourse left to you, right?'
A slow understanding seemed to fall on the woman's face, even though Brown knew she hadn't understood half the words he'd used in his question.
'Well,' she said softly, 'I could see he raised something right at me…'
'And you knew he had the gun and he had threatened you and shot at you before…'
'That's right, Mr. Brown. I was in fear.'
'And there was no place for you to run and hide?'
The woman gestured widely. 'Where you gonna hide in here? Got no recourse at all.'
Brown nodded his head and looked again at the children's pictures.
'Three kids? All his?'
'No, sir. Buck weren't their daddy, and he never liked ' em much. Guess they reminded him of my other husband. But they're fine kids, Mr. Brown. Fine kids.'
'Where's their real daddy?'
The woman shrugged, a movement that spoke volumes about trailer parks and bruises.
'Said he was going to Louisiana, try and get work on the oil rigs. But that's nearly seven years ago. Now, he's just gone. We weren't husband and wife official, nohow.'
Tanny Brown was about to ask another question when he heard a bellow of rage from outside. Sudden voices were raised and he heard policemen shouting to each other. The woman on the couch gasped, shrinking down to the floor. 'That's his brother. I know it. He'll kill me, Lord, I know.'
'No, he won't,' Brown said quietly. He handed the woman back the portraits of her children. She clutched the leather photo album tightly. Then he motioned for the uniformed officer to stand by the door as he returned outside.
From the doorway, he saw two other uniforms trying to restrain a large, enraged man who struggled hard against their hold. The crime-scene technicians had scattered. The man roared, tugging and jerking, pulling the officers toward the body.
'Buck, Buck! Jesus, Buck, I can't believe it! Jesus, lemme go! Lemme go! I'll kill the bitch, kill her!'
He surged forward dragging the officers. Two more policemen jumped in his path to try and slow his progress. One cop fell to the ground, cursing. The crowd of people started to catcall and yell, their voices adding to the man's fury.
'I'll kill the bitch, dammit!'
He screamed with red-streaked rage. His contorted face was caught in the flashing strobe lights of the police cruisers, illuminating his anger. He kicked at one of the policemen struggling to hold him, his foot landing on the officer's shin. The man yelped and fell aside, grabbing at his leg.
Tanny Brown stepped from the trailer's front stoop and walked toward the dead man's brother. He put himself directly in the man's vision.
'Shut up!' he shouted.
The wild man stared at him, hesitating momentarily in his push forward. Then he lurched again. I'll kill the bitch,' he screamed.
'That your brother?' Brown shouted.
The man twisted in the grasp of the policemen. 'She killed Buck, now I mean to do her. Bitch! You're dead!' he cried, directing his yell past Brown.
'Is that your brother?' Brown asked again, slightly quieter.
'You're dead, bitch! Dead!' the man snarled. 'Who's asking? Who're you, nigger?'
The racial epithet stung him, but he didn't move. He considered stepping up and feeding the man his fist, but then decided against it. The man had to be stupid to call him a name, but probably wasn't so stupid he wouldn't file a complaint. A brief vision of a stack of paperwork jumped into his sight like a mirage.
One of the officers trying to hold the man back freed his nightstick. Brown shook his head and stepped up so that his face was only a few inches away from the dead man's brother.
'I'm police Lieutenant Theodore Brown, asshole, and I'm gonna get pissed in one more second, and you don't want to have me on your case, asshole.'
The man hesitated. 'She killed him, the bitch.'
'You already said that.'
'What you gonna do about it?'
Tanny Brown ignored the question. 'That your gun?' he asked.
'Yeah, mine. He got it from me earlier.'
'Your gun? Your brother?'
'Yeah. You gonna arrest the bitch, or am I gonna have to kill her?'
The man's struggles had slowed, but his voice had gathered an angry, challenging edge.
'You knew he was gonna come over here?'
He told everyone at the bar.'
'What was the gun for?'
'He was just gonna scare her a little, like he did the other night.'
Brown turned and saw the uniformed officer standing in the light thrown from the trailer door, and the woman cowering behind the policeman. He turned back to the enraged man, who was standing still now, waiting, his arms still clasped by two officers.
The police lieutenant walked over to the dead man's body and looked down at it. Under his voice, he whispered, 'Can you hear me? You ain't worth the trouble.' Then he looked back at the brother.
'You gonna do something, or what?' the man demanded.
Tanny Brown smiled. 'Sure,' he said.
He turned to one of the crime-scene technicians. 'Tom, go get Missus Collins' shotgun.' The man went over to a cruiser and returned with the gun. Brown took the shotgun and jacked the pump action a single time, chambering a fresh round.
He looked over at the dead man's brother and smiled again. 'Give the shotgun back to Missus Collins,' he said loudly. He stared over at the man. 'Fred?' he called out in a loud voice. 'Officer Davis, you write Missus Collins up one of those tickets for dumping refuse without a permit. Pay a fifty-buck fine. And you call sanitation and tell them to come pick up this trash.' He pointed at the body at his feet.
'Hey,' said the man.
'That's right. Give her a ticket for shooting this piece of crap and dumping him out here.'
