Table Of ContentDedication
Dedicated	to	the	memory	of	Julian	Bond	(1940–2015)
Contents
Dedication
Prologue:	Fists	Against	the	Earth
PART	ONE	|	NIGHT	OF	THE	BURNING	CROSS
Klan	Business
A	Public	Display
Thirteen	Knots
“Good	Job,	Tiger”
A	Precious	Enclave
The	Klan’s	Signature
The	Value	of	Things
Bloody	Nails
An	Open	Casket
A	Major	Injustice
Missionary	Work
Prayers	in	the	Night
A	Lesser	Crime
Black	Sheep
A	Capital	Offense
The	Second-Most-Hated	Man
A	Matter	of	Justice
“The	Forces	of	Evil”
“Sizzling	of	the	Flesh”
A	Verdict
PART	TWO	|	A	TIME	OF	JUDGMENT
“Where	in	the	Hell	.	.	.”
Sunday	School
Turning	Back	the	Tide
“Who	Is	Shelton?”
The	Day	of	Reckoning
Freedom	Rides
A	Personal	Brawl
Riding	Again
Eternal	Vigilance
The	Schoolhouse	Door
Good	Working	People
“Seeds	of	Hate”
A	Race	Thing
Scrawny	Pine
A	Follower	of	Christ
A	Pain	in	the	Stomach
A	Political	Prisoner
Never
Censored
Lowering	the	Boom
Private	Matters
Fighting	the	Fight
A	Wannabe
PART	THREE	|	ROLL	CALL	OF	JUSTICE
“Novel,	but	Unlikely”
An	Eye	for	an	Eye
A	Clear	and	Powerful	Message
Natural	Consequences
A	Book	of	Prophecy
“As	You	Lie,	You	Forget”
Intruders	in	the	Night
“Blood	Will	Flow”
Shots	in	the	Night
The	End	of	an	Era
Sending	a	Signal
Curveballs
“Nice	Job,	Daddy”
Purity	of	the	Race
A	Jury	of	One’s	Peers
Trading	Places
“That’s	My	Mom”
Remembrance
A	Question	of	Justice
Death	Has	No	Hold
Where	Are	They	Now?
Acknowledgments
Notes
Bibliography
Index
Photos	Section
About	the	Author
Also	by	Laurence	Leamer
Credits
Copyright
About	the	Publisher
Prologue:	Fists	Against	the	Earth
EARLY	SATURDAY	MORNING	on	March	21,	1981,	a	young	woman	was	out
riding	her	bicycle	with	her	dog	along	Herndon	Avenue	in	Mobile,	Alabama,	a
modest	residential	street	no	more	than	three	hundred	yards	long.	It	was	the	first
day	of	spring,	and	in	the	predawn	light,	the	woman	saw	what	she	assumed	was	a
dummy	 hanging	 from	 a	 camphor	 tree	 and	 continued	 down	 the	 road.	 A	 few
minutes	later,	an	elderly	man	went	out	to	buy	the	morning	paper	and	saw	what
he	figured	was	a	black	man	breaking	into	a	house.	Once	he	got	back	to	his	own
home,	he	called	the	police.	Other	passersby	saw	what	they	thought	was	a	man
strung	up	by	a	noose,	his	feet	barely	off	the	ground,	and	they	too	phoned	the
police.
When	the	officers	arrived	there	shortly	after	dawn,	they	found	the	body	of	a
black	man	hanging	from	a	tree.	They	cordoned	off	the	vacant	lot	at	112	Herndon
Avenue	but	left	the	body	there	and	waited	for	the	coroner	to	do	the	job	of	taking
it	down	and	removing	it.	When	one	black	person	heard	about	the	murder,	he
called	a	friend,	and	that	person	called	someone	else,	and	soon	scores	of	black
spectators	arrived.
There	had	not	been	a	lynching	in	America	in	a	quarter	century,	and	no	one
standing	looking	at	the	body	had	ever	seen	such	a	crime,	but	they	had	heard
about	 it	 from	 family	 members	 and	 read	 about	 it	 in	 social	 science	 books	 in
school.	And	they	believed	they	knew	what	had	occurred.	White	men	had	lynched
a	black	man,	and	they	had	done	it	to	send	a	message	of	intimidation	and	terror.
This	was	something	they	thought	would	never	happen	again,	and	many	of	the
black	onlookers	wept,	others	fell	to	the	ground	beating	their	fists	against	the
earth.
PART	ONE
Night	of	the	Burning	Cross
Klan	Business
AT	THE	WEEKLY	meeting	of	Klavern	900	of	the	United	Klans	of	America
(UKA)	in	Theodore,	Alabama,	on	March	18,	1981,	Bennie	Jack	Hays	stood
before	the	dozen	Klansmen	and	raged	against	the	rise	of	black	people.	Bennie
was	the	Great	Titan,	the	highest-ranking	officer	of	the	UKA	in	the	southern	half
of	 Alabama.	 The	 bespectacled,	 white-haired	 sixty-four-year-old	 might	 have
spent	his	last	years	rocking	his	grandchildren	on	the	porch,	but	he	had	risen
quickly	 in	 the	 Klan	 despite	 being	 Catholic	 in	 an	 overwhelmingly	 Protestant
organization	that	had	once	considered	Catholics	no	better	than	infidels.
The	Klan	leader	lived	in	a	house	on	seven	acres	in	Theodore,	which	was
fifteen	miles	southwest	of	Mobile.	Theodore	was	a	poor	white	man’s	redoubt,
small	homes	and	trailers	spread	out	among	the	jungle-like	foliage.	It	was	as	close
to	paradise	as	Bennie	was	likely	to	get,	especially	because	he	had	a	cabin	for
Klan	meetings	on	his	property.
The	Klansmen	attending	the	evening	assembly	sat	in	several	rows	of	chairs.
An	altar-like	shrine	stood	in	the	front	of	the	room.	There	set	a	candle,	a	container
of	water,	an	open	Bible,	and	an	American	flag	with	a	cross	laid	across	it.	A
Confederate	flag	stood	in	the	corner.
“Your	Excellency,	the	Sacred	Altar	of	the	Klan	is	prepared,	the	Fiery	Cross
illumines	the	Klavern,”	said	Thaddeus	“Red”	Betancourt,	the	Klokard	or	teacher,
pointing	to	the	lit	candle.
“Klansmen,	what	means	the	Fiery	Cross?”	asked	Bennie’s	son-in-law	Frank
Cox,	the	Exalted	Cyclops	or	Klavern	president.
“We	serve	and	sacrifice	for	the	right,”	said	all	the	Klansmen.
No	one	in	the	Klavern	spoke	the	sacred	language	with	more	passion	than	did
Teddy	 Lamar	 Kyzar.	 He	 was	 a	 plump,	 expressionless	 young	 man	 with	 an
enormous	head	and	pink,	baby-like	skin.	Kyzar	stood	just	barely	over	five	feet
and	looked	like	a	boy	among	grown	men.	A	few	years	before,	a	group	of	black
men	had	stolen	Kyzar’s	watch.	From	then	on,	he	had	hated	the	whole	race,	and
the	Klan	gave	him	the	chance	to	strike	back.
Some	of	his	fellow	Klansmen	dismissed	Kyzar	because	of	his	height,	but	that
just	compelled	him	to	do	almost	anything	to	be	accepted	as	their	equal.	He
placed	himself	at	the	head	of	the	line	volunteering	for	what	the	UKA	called
“missionary	work,”	and	his	favorite	involved	beating	up	black	men.
When	the	Klansmen	had	their	victim	bloodied,	bruised,	and	spread-eagled	on
the	ground,	the	last	thing	they	did	before	walking	away	was	to	tell	the	man
straight-out:	“The	cops	are	Klan,	and	you	go	to	the	cops,	and	we’ll	come	back
and	kill	you.”
Kyzar	lived	in	Mobile	on	Herndon	Avenue	in	one	of	the	four	houses	Bennie
owned	and	had	broken	up	into	apartments.	A	few	weeks	earlier,	the	Klan	leader
had	come	to	the	street	and	thundered	about	whites	watching	black	Mardi	Gras
parades.
For	the	next	black	parade,	Bennie	commanded	that	Kyzar	and	some	other
Klavern	members	slash	tires	all	around	the	area	and	ordered	that	the	tires	be	cut
on	the	sides	so	they	could	not	be	patched	and	that	at	least	two	tires	of	each	car	be
punctured.	The	Klansmen	waited	until	the	sounds	of	music	and	cheers	wafted
out	 across	 the	 streets	 and	 then	 started	 slashing	 and	 puncturing	 away.	 Kyzar
bragged	that	he	had	damaged	tires	on	sixty-five	cars	in	one	parking	lot	alone.
That	had	been	a	great	day	for	Kyzar,	but	since	then,	he	had	gotten	in	trouble.
He	had	taken	a	recruit’s	application	money	and	spent	it	at	a	bar.	The	Klavern
could	have	decided	he	was	not	proper	Klan	material	and	thrown	him	out.	But	he
was	liked	by	a	number	of	Klan	members,	and	the	group	decided	instead	that	they
would	whip	him.
Kyzar	shuffled	to	the	front	of	the	room.	If	he	had	walked	out	of	the	meeting,
no	one	would	have	stopped	him,	but	these	were	his	friends	and	he	was	part	of
what	 he	 considered	 a	 marvelous	 kinship,	 and	 he	 knew	 he	 had	 to	 take	 his
punishment.
Per	protocol,	the	sacred	items	were	taken	off	the	altar,	and	Kyzar	knelt	down
with	 his	 hands	 on	 the	 wooden	 surface.	 After	 a	 few	 words	 justifying	 and
ennobling	what	was	about	to	take	place,	the	Exalted	Cyclops	hit	him	with	a
leather	belt.	Kyzar	tried	not	to	flinch	or	to	show	any	pain,	but	he	was	close	to
crying.	After	the	Exalted	Cyclops	struck	him	the	last	of	the	required	fifty	lashes,
Kyzar	limped	back	to	his	seat.
The	men	deferred	to	Bennie	not	only	because	he	was	the	Great	Titan,	but
also	because	they	saw	him	as	a	man	of	a	substance	far	beyond	theirs.	Bennie	also
had	all	kinds	of	properties	and	business	interests	to	which	they	could	hardly	dare
aspire.
He	was	born	Herman	Otto	Houston	in	rural	Missouri	in	1916.	His	own	father
Description:The New York Times bestselling author of The Kennedy Women chronicles the powerful and spellbinding true story of a brutal race-based killing in 1981 and subsequent trials that undid one of the most pernicious organizations in American history—the Ku Klux Klan.On a Friday night in March 1981 H