Officer Jones

Chapter 58

I pushed Byron toward Mama Jasper’s, which sat on a popular congregating spot along the busy Meeting Street. At Byron’s urging, we stopped for a moment to watch the spectacular sunset over Charleston Harbor.

“So why did you decide to call it Rubber-Band Foundation?” I asked him.

“My old teammate Leonard Harris with the Cardinals. After he was in the accident that killed those girls, he dedicated his life to them. His philosophy was that since he was responsible for taking their lives, it was his duty to live their lives for them in a symbolic way.

“He wasn’t a perfect man by any standard, but well-intentioned. He wore a rubber band as a symbol of the accident. The elastic reminded him of how fragile life was and how it could snap at anytime. I think that’s a good symbol for our organization,” Byron said, snapping the red rubber band around his wrist. It broke, which made his point.

We entered Mama Jasper’s to the aroma of she-crab soup mixed with sizzling fried chicken. My senses were in overload, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since yesterday.

Mama Jasper’s was a converted warehouse. It was a casual, but elegant restaurant that still had the feel of a small diner. On Sunday night, it was dimly lit and very full. Or as Byron referred to it-the usual.

Mama Jasper met us at the doorway with a smile. Her smile was Byron’s smile, and it swelled with pride. She paraded us through the restaurant as if we were foreign dignitaries. Byron shook hands with numerous patrons like he was running for office. Many he knew, some he didn’t, but everybody knew him. I continued to be ignored, but gained instant credibility by the company I was keeping. The Jaspers were like Charleston nobility, and Byron was a rock star here.

The walls were lined with grand oil paintings of Charleston history, with an emphasis on the black history of the region. The highlight of my tour was a rare meeting with the chef, which according to Byron, was the highest honor given by Mama Jasper. It was like I was knighted. Sir JP and Sir Byron were then seated in the large VIP room in the back. Tonya was there waiting for him.

“Are you tired, baby?” she greeted him.

“Why would I be tired? JP did all the pushing.”

I moved toward the wall, where I could get a closer look at the large framed team photos of Byron’s football teams, displayed chronologically. This was the unofficial Byron Jasper Hall of Fame.

The team photos ranged from when he was in Pee Wee League to his last season with the Cardinals. The early photos were taken in black and white film. I got a kick out of the size of Byron’s afro in the photos from high school. In college he met Tonya and the hair got cut off.

I casually studied each one until I came upon the photo from 1995. I was drawn to a particular man in the photo. He wasn’t in uniform, so perhaps he was one of the many coaches or trainers. I realized that of all the people who looked at that photo over the years, probably none of them noticed the nondescript man hidden within a group of professional football players.

At first I didn’t believe what my eyes were telling me. So I took a closer look. Byron and Tonya stopped their lovey-dovey conversation and focused their attention in my direction. I’m sure I looked strange putting my face right up to the photo.

“You need glasses, man?” Byron called out.

I ignored the comment and took a step back, feeling dizzy. I looked under the picture where the names were listed from left to right. I traced my index finger across the line of typed names until I got to the man. Grady Benson.

“Are you okay, JP?” Tonya asked.

My mind was spinning so fast that it sounded like she was miles away. “Byron get over here.”

“Can’t exactly walk, man.”

“Get over here!”

He gave in and wheeled his chair to where I stood. “What’s going on?”

“Who is Grady Benson?”

“Grady Benson?”

I impatiently pointed at the man in question, jabbing the photo.

It rung a bell. “Oh, that guy. Remember when I told you about how Leonard was trying to turn his life around after the accident?”

“Yeah?”

“Leonard convinced the Cardinals he needed to travel with his ‘spiritual adviser,’ who was Benson. He gave him credit for turning his life around.” Byron rolled his eyes. “Listen, I said he was a good dude, not a sane one. Anyway, Leonard led the league in sacks that year, so the Cardinals bent over backwards to please him. They gave this Benson guy a job with some made-up title like Assistant Equipment Manager or something like that, so that he could travel with the team. Personally, I think he was some crackpot trying to take Leonard’s money. He was always attracting those types.”

“The accident where the two girls died was alcohol related, right?”

Byron looked quizzically at me. “You know that. What’s the deal, JP?”

“Was Benson present the night Leonard Harris died?”

“I’m not sure, but my guess would be yes. They were inseparable. What’s going on, JP?”

I turned back to the photo. “That’s him,” I mumbled.

“You’re worrying me, man. What are you talking about?”

I turned around and looked down at Byron in his chair. “I thought Kyle Jones killed my brother, but he didn’t.”

“I’m completely lost.”

I reached down and kissed Byron on the top of the head. “Remember when you said you wanted to help with the case. Well, you just solved it.”

I buzzed with energy. I floated to Tonya and gave her a kiss on her perfumed cheek. Mama Jasper simultaneously walked into the room and this time I gave her a big bear hug.

“I gotta go,” I said and quickly headed toward the door.

“Oh no you don’t, JP Warner,” she belted out.

But there was no stopping me. I was already halfway out the door.

“Don’t forget your cane,” Byron shouted.

I turned my head back to him, but never stopped. “You keep it-you’ll need it for when you take those first steps.”

Byron looked at the cane and then up at me. He just shook his head in disbelief.