The final entry was dated fourteen months earlier.<\/p>\n
Miller read it slowly.<\/p>\n
"August ninth. Sheriff arrested Mrs. Hattie Greene at her property on Cypress Creek Road."<\/p>\n
He stopped.<\/p>\n
Then continued.<\/p>\n
"She was eighty-one. She was standing on her porch telling surveyors to leave her land."<\/p>\n
Nobody moved.<\/p>\n
"She was charged with obstruction and disorderly conduct."<\/p>\n
Miller looked down.<\/p>\n
"She was not disorderly. She was crying."<\/p>\n
I felt something tighten in my chest.<\/p>\n
I knew that name.<\/p>\n
Hattie Greene.<\/p>\n
I had read it in one of the thirty-one letters Aunt Lorraine sent to Atlanta.<\/p>\n
Miller turned the page.<\/p>\n
"At booking, she said she needed her heart medication. It was in her purse."<\/p>\n
He swallowed.<\/p>\n
"The sheriff said she could wait until the jail nurse arrived."<\/p>\n
He looked up.<\/p>\n
"The nurse didn't come on weekends."<\/p>\n
Voss stared at him.<\/p>\n
Miller continued.<\/p>\n
"August tenth. Mrs. Greene asked for her pills four times. I asked the sheriff twice."<\/p>\n
His voice broke.<\/p>\n
"He told me she would live."<\/p>\n
Miller stopped.<\/p>\n
For a moment, the only sound was the clock above the booking desk.<\/p>\n
Then he read the last lines.<\/p>\n
"August eleventh. Three fifteen in the morning. Mrs. Greene found unresponsive in cell three."<\/p>\n
He took a breath.<\/p>\n
"August thirteenth. Mrs. Greene died."<\/p>\n
The room went still.<\/p>\n
Miller looked at the sheriff.<\/p>\n
"He told everybody on shift not to mention the medication."<\/p>\n
He lowered his eyes.<\/p>\n
"He said the report would say she had been found unresponsive with no prior complaint."<\/p>\n
Nobody spoke.<\/p>\n
I thought about the letter.<\/p>\n
A boy had written it.<\/p>\n
He was seventeen.<\/p>\n
He had written that his great-grandmother died in the county jail.<\/p>\n
He had written that she called his mother and said the deputies had taken her pills.<\/p>\n
He had written that nobody would listen.<\/p>\n
Then he had written one more thing.<\/p>\n
They sold her land.<\/p>\n
I looked at Greer.<\/p>\n
He was already reading the entry again.<\/p>\n
Then he looked at Voss.<\/p>\n
"What is Pinecrest Holdings?"<\/p>\n
The sheriff didn't answer.<\/p>\n
Delgado opened her portfolio.<\/p>\n
"Pinecrest Holdings LLC was registered two years ago."<\/p>\n
She turned a page.<\/p>\n
"The registered agent is Wade Purcell."<\/p>\n
She looked at Voss.<\/p>\n
"Your brother-in-law."<\/p>\n
The sheriff's face changed.<\/p>\n
The deputy at the computer made a small sound.<\/p>\n
Delgado continued.<\/p>\n
"Over the last two years, Pinecrest acquired eleven parcels of land in Pell County."<\/p>\n
She paused.<\/p>\n
"About six hundred and forty acres."<\/p>\n
Greer looked at the notebook.<\/p>\n
Delgado read from her notes.<\/p>\n
"Every parcel belonged to someone who had been arrested by this department within the twelve months before losing the property."<\/p>\n
I stared at her.<\/p>\n
She turned another page.<\/p>\n
"Every parcel is also along the proposed Georgia Power transmission corridor and the new state highway bypass."<\/p>\n
The sheriff shook his head.<\/p>\n
"That has nothing to do with me."<\/p>\n
Delgado continued.<\/p>\n
"The land along that corridor is now worth several times what Pinecrest paid."<\/p>\n
I felt sick.<\/p>\n
The pieces were beginning to fit.<\/p>\n
A person was arrested.<\/p>\n
Bail was set too high.<\/p>\n
The person remained in jail.<\/p>\n
They missed work.<\/p>\n
They lost income.<\/p>\n
They fell behind on taxes.<\/p>\n
Their property was sold.<\/p>\n
And Pinecrest Holdings was waiting.<\/p>\n
It was not complicated.<\/p>\n
It was cruel.<\/p>\n
And it had been happening in a county where people were too afraid to speak.<\/p>\n
Delgado looked at the sheriff.<\/p>\n
"Mrs. Greene's forty-two acres were sold at an estate sale four months after her death."<\/p>\n
She read the price.<\/p>\n
"Sixty-one thousand dollars."<\/p>\n
Then she read the amount Georgia Power had offered for an easement across part of that property.<\/p>\n
"Two hundred and thirty-eight thousand dollars."<\/p>\n
Voss shook his head.<\/p>\n
"That's my brother-in-law's business."<\/p>\n
Greer placed a document on the desk.<\/p>\n
"Then perhaps you can explain why your department's bank records show three wire transfers from Pinecrest Holdings to an account in your wife's name."<\/p>\n
He paused.<\/p>\n
"The total was one hundred and eighty-seven thousand five hundred dollars."<\/p>\n
Voss went white.<\/p>\n
I watched him.<\/p>\n
For the first time, he looked frightened.<\/p>\n
Not embarrassed.<\/p>\n
Not angry.<\/p>\n
Afraid.<\/p>\n
I understood then that the investigation was much larger than the arrest of one woman in a diner.<\/p>\n
My arrest had brought the sheriff's department into the open.<\/p>\n
But the people who had lost their homes had been paying the price for years.<\/p>\n
And one of them had died.<\/p>\n
Voss looked at Miller.<\/p>\n
"You knew about this?"<\/p>\n
Miller didn't answer.<\/p>\n
"You knew?"<\/p>\n
"I wrote it down."<\/p>\n
The sheriff took a step forward.<\/p>\n
Calloway stopped him.<\/p>\n
"That's enough."<\/p>\n
Voss looked around the room.<\/p>\n
The clerk was still writing.<\/p>\n
The agents were gathering documents.<\/p>\n
Delgado was checking the warrant.<\/p>\n
Greer had the notebook.<\/p>\n
Nobody was waiting for the sheriff to give permission anymore.<\/p>\n
I sat quietly.<\/p>\n
My wrists hurt.<\/p>\n
My left hand was swelling.<\/p>\n
I wanted to leave.<\/p>\n
I wanted to see my aunt.<\/p>\n
But I also wanted to know what would happen to the people whose names were in that notebook.<\/p>\n
I wanted to know whether Hattie Greene's family would ever get their land back.<\/p>\n
I wanted to know whether Terrence Holloway would ever see the money taken from his truck.<\/p>\n
I wanted to know whether the sheriff would be held responsible.<\/p>\n
I knew better than to expect an immediate answer.<\/p>\n
A federal investigation was not a television show.<\/p>\n
There would be records.<\/p>\n
Interviews.<\/p>\n
Subpoenas.<\/p>\n
Months of work.<\/p>\n
Possibly years.<\/p>\n
And the people who had been hurt would have to wait.<\/p>\n
Again.<\/p>\n
Calloway approached me.<\/p>\n
"Judge, we should get your wrist examined."<\/p>\n
I looked at my hand.<\/p>\n
It was beginning to swell around the cuff marks.<\/p>\n
"Yes."<\/p>\n
She turned to Miller.<\/p>\n
"Deputy, do you have anything else?"<\/p>\n
He shook his head.<\/p>\n
"Not right now."<\/p>\n
Calloway nodded.<\/p>\n
"Your notebook will be preserved as evidence. We'll need to interview you."<\/p>\n
Miller looked at Voss.<\/p>\n
The sheriff was staring at him.<\/p>\n
I could see the fear in Miller's face.<\/p>\n
I could also see something else.<\/p>\n
Relief.<\/p>\n
He had finally told the truth.<\/p>\n
And now he had to live with what came next.<\/p>\n
The agents began moving through the building.<\/p>\n
They collected records.<\/p>\n
They photographed the booking desk.<\/p>\n
They took the dispatch logs.<\/p>\n
They secured the computers.<\/p>\n
A technician opened the evidence room.<\/p>\n
Another agent began inventorying the phones.<\/p>\n
Voss stood near the wall.<\/p>\n
His badge was still pinned to his uniform.<\/p>\n
His gun was still at his side.<\/p>\n
But the room no longer belonged to him.<\/p>\n
Delgado spoke quietly to Greer.<\/p>\n
I heard her mention the governor's office.<\/p>\n
Then she turned toward Voss.<\/p>\n
"Your department has been notified that you are being suspended pending the investigation."<\/p>\n
Voss stared at her.<\/p>\n
"You can't do that."<\/p>\n
"The governor can."<\/p>\n
She paused.<\/p>\n
"Your badge and weapon will be collected."<\/p>\n
Voss looked at the deputies.<\/p>\n
Nobody moved.<\/p>\n
Then Calloway held out her hand.<\/p>\n
For a moment, he didn't respond.<\/p>\n
Finally, he unpinned the badge.<\/p>\n
He placed it in her palm.<\/p>\n
The metal made a small sound.<\/p>\n
That was all.<\/p>\n
No speech.<\/p>\n
No shouting.<\/p>\n
No dramatic announcement.<\/p>\n
Just a badge changing hands.<\/p>\n
Voss looked at me.<\/p>\n
"You set me up."<\/p>\n
I shook my head.<\/p>\n
"No."<\/p>\n
He took a step closer.<\/p>\n
"You came here to get me."<\/p>\n
"I came here to help my aunt."<\/p>\n
He stared at me.<\/p>\n
"I came to pick up her medication and eat lunch."<\/p>\n
I looked at the diner across the road in my mind.<\/p>\n
The red booth.<\/p>\n
The water glass.<\/p>\n
The plate of catfish.<\/p>\n
"You made your decision when you put those cuffs on me."<\/p>\n
He said nothing.<\/p>\n
I thought of Hattie Greene.<\/p>\n
Of the four times she had asked for her medication.<\/p>\n
Of the boy who had written the letter.<\/p>\n
Of the notebook that had waited fourteen months for someone to read it.<\/p>\n
Voss turned away.<\/p>\n
He walked out of the booking area.<\/p>\n
Nobody followed him.<\/p>\n
Not immediately.<\/p>\n
The FBI technicians continued their work.<\/p>\n
The building was full of people who had finally been allowed to do their jobs.<\/p>\n
And I was still sitting in the chair.<\/p>\n
My wrist was broken.<\/p>\n
My lunch was gone.<\/p>\n
My purse was on the desk.<\/p>\n
I looked at Miller.<\/p>\n
He looked back.<\/p>\n
Neither of us spoke.<\/p>\n
Source: kaylestore.net<\/a><\/em><\/p>\n The final entry was dated fourteen months earlier. Miller read it slowly. "August ninth. Sheriff arrested Mrs. Hattie Greene at her property on Cypress Creek Road." He stopped. Then continued. … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":10808,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10811","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-sharestory"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10811","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10811"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10811\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10824,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10811\/revisions\/10824"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/10808"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10811"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10811"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/onesharedstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10811"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nClick here to continue reading: PART 4: The Sheriff Lost His Badge That Afternoon, but the Truth About the Woman Who Died in His Jail Was Only Beginning to Come Out<\/a><\/strong><\/h2>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"