Fifth Sunday: The Loving Hands Murder

By Richard Weirich

When the members of the Loving Hands Baptist Church are shaken by a murder behind the church, all hell breaks loose, the only black resident of the community is blamed, and if they don’t soon see the error of their ways, the resulting scandal may force the historic church to close its doors.

In March, 1985, Lamont Johnson moved his black American family from Cleveland, Ohio for an executive position with AmSouth Bank Corporation and a new home in the midst of the whites-only Alabama community of Loving Hands. When the body of an exotic dancer is found behind the Loving Hands Baptist Church, Lamont Johnson is arrested for the murder.

The story, inspired by actual events, is told from the perspective of Emmett Hollister who has only recently returned home after a stint in the Navy. Quickly things start looking up for Emmett when he meets and falls in love with new resident, Jane Fitzwater. As their love grows so do the problems in the Loving Hands community resulting in the destruction of their relationship and a scandalous revelation about some of the unloving racist members of Loving Hands Baptist Church.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard Weirich
• Release date: Sep 28, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311129390

Richard Weirich

Christian author Richard Weirich writes entertaining and inspirational fiction novels, daily devotionals, and nonfiction books that motivate, challenge, and help believers grow in the faith. Richard’s unique perspective on life is rooted in his many experiences as musician, radio personality, minister, and voiceover talent. Richard grew up in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia and after high school played trombone in the U.S. Navy Band. While in the Navy, he became interested in radio, enrolled in the Tidewater School of Broadcasting and quickly landed his first radio job in Norfolk, Virginia. For 30+ years Richard was the Burt half of the popular morning radio duo of Burt and Kurt, entertaining listeners in Jackson, Mississippi; Tampa, Florida; Houston, Texas; and Birmingham, Alabama. In Birmingham, Richard prepared for the ministry at Southeastern Bible College and Samford University, which led to a fifteen-year ministerial career serving as pastor of several Alabama churches.

Book preview

Fifth Sunday

The Loving Hands Murder

Richard Weirich

Copyright © 2012 Richard Weirich

All rights reserved.

ISBN10: 1477468072

ISBN-13: 978-1477468074

Printed in the United States of America

To Janet, Sean, and Michael

CONTENTS

Part 1 – In the Beginning

Part 2 – First Sunday Rumblings

Part 3 – Second Sunday Chaos

Part 4 – Third Sunday Unrest

Part 5 – Fourth Sunday Hell

Part 6 – Fifth Sunday Revival

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

One of the greatest things about getting older is having had the privilege of knowing so many special people, events, and opportunities. Without them, life would be without richness, meaning, and inspiration.

Part 1 – In the Beginning

Monthly Business Meeting, 7 pm, Wednesday,

February 20, 1985

Nothing new ever happens at Loving Hands Baptist Church. People here have been doing the same thing the same way since the church was founded over one hundred years ago. And they love their monthly business meetings that have been held on every third Wednesday since the church first opened its doors in 1880. It gives them an opportunity to voice their complaints, concerns, opinions, and recommendations for, as my mother puts it, the advancement of God’s holy work.

On this third Wednesday in February it is business as usual as loyal congregants file into the auditorium for another predictable cutthroat battle which, so they claim, is done in the sincerest Christian love. For now they are content to share polite pleasantries and friendly handshakes seemingly oblivious to the verbal scratching and clawing that is about to begin.

I’m here against my better judgment as a favor to my father. He wanted the whole family in place tonight to provide him with support as he presides as the moderator over the confab. I had thought that being away for the last four years would give me some license to stay away from this drudgery, but here I am, feeling as if I had never left, sitting next to my mother who has already begun rummaging through her knitting bag preparing to work on yet another doily for the women’s missionary group.

Before me is the prized relic that has guided all who have passed through these hallowed doors. The old church covenant sign has remained without movement or change since it was placed on the preaching platform at the first ever church service by Rev. R E Hollister, my Great-Great-Great Granddaddy. On it is inscribed the carefully crafted rules of our faith, the thou shalt nots, by which all good Loving Hands members are expected to adhere.

No drinking.

No swearing.

Women are strictly forbidden from wearing pants in God’s house.

Only King James is spoken here.

The numbers on the attendance board have not been changed in my lifetime. That was old man Johnson’s job that he handled admirably for sixty-five years up until his death twenty years ago. The board has been left unattended in honor of his many years of faithful service.

Sunday School - 60

Worship - 50

Wednesday Night - 50

At the back of the platform by the American flag hangs a giant tapestry painting of Jesus and to the right of the picture are orange velvet draperies that cover the sit-down baptistery. The baptistery was installed in the 1950s after Bro. Cosmo Darrow was bitten by a copperhead while fending off snakes at the annual Cahaba River baptism. Until that time, deacons handled protecting baptismal candidates by clearing serpents from the water. Daddy said that it was the only occasion that he could recall when the deacons were of one accord on anything.

On opposite sides of the floor at the base of the preacher’s platform are the upright piano and electric organ donated by the Williams family in the 1960s, with the stipulation that the organ would remain in the church as long as Bernie Williams was the organist. Since that time all hymns and worship songs have been slowed down to accommodate Bernie’s hunt and peck playing style. A few years back the church paid to have the organ repaired only to discover that there was nothing wrong with it. The missed notes were not the fault of the organ.

If you were to hear Bernie play, you would likely wonder why a church would put up with someone who played so poorly for so long. Small churches like Loving Hands put a high premium on loyalty and a willing heart and Bernie was the epitome of both. Never once have I ever heard anybody complain about his limited musicianship. Dad has often reminded me that in a small church, volunteer jobs are often filled by people who are more willing than able. In those times, we must look past the performance to the devoted heart of the performer.

Once, when I was in high school, Bernie found out that I had been chosen to go on tour with the USA Youth Orchestra but lacked the funds to participate. Bernie secretly slipped me a check with an attached note on which he had written, for a real God-gifted musician from a God-loving wannabe.

The man standing at the front of the auditorium is Bubba Hollister, my dad. His profession is coal miner. His passion is this church. It’s his year to serve as the Chairman of the Deacons, which by the way, is a job he detests. He believes that God honors those who do things that make them miserable.

Obviously I am biased, but Bubba Hollister, my dad, is the one man in this church in a leadership position who is truly decent, fair, and desirous of doing what’s in the best interest of the church. He has successfully avoided the infighting, gossip, backbiting, and agenda driven power brokers who have frequently divided the church family over insanely trivial matters. Bro. Bubba, as he is affectionately called by the congregation, has been the calming voice of reason that has helped Loving Hands Baptist Church avoid self-destruction.

At this time I want to call the monthly business meeting to order. The first item of business is to welcome my son back from the Navy.

Dad’s announcement is greeted with polite applause as everyone turns and fixes their eyes on me in apparent anticipation of some sort of appropriate response.

What’s up? I said shyly while the faithful greeted my reply with total silence and stone-faced stares. Uh, missed you guys. Nice to be home!

A few affirming mumbles followed as they turned their attention back to the front of the room where my father presided.

As you all know, tonight we will be voting on a new pastor, said the moderator. But first, let’s hear the Homecoming committee report from Willa Darrow. Willa?

A prematurely blue haired lady rises from the first pew and takes her place at the lectern. Willa Darrow has been the Homecoming Chairman since her father, Cosmo, died nearly twenty years ago. Cosmo was a legendary deacon who ruled with an iron fist and holds the church record for running off the most preachers in a single year. Willa has sought to carry on her father’s legacy but has turned her power interests to preserving tradition and resisting change.

As ya’ll know, Homecoming is coming up on the fourth Sunday in April and me and the committee has been meticulously planning every detail so we can have the best Homecoming ever.

Homecoming, also known as Decoration Sunday, is an annual Loving Hands Baptist event that gives old church members an opportunity to worship the dead. People come from all over Alabama to pay their respects to deceased church members by laying plastic flowers on their graves and eating dinner on the grounds. Then, after gorging themselves with numerous varieties of potato salad, fried pies, sweet tea, the sacrificial Gospel Bird (Southern fried chicken), and some sort of salad concoction called Pink Stuff, they sit down for a gospel music concert featuring an elderly group of gentlemen who have been singing the same three songs for the last fifty years.

I’m happy to report that the Dixie Gentlemen will be our musical guests of honor again this year, announced Willa Darrow as she grinned proudly. And thanks to Bro. Lawler, who has agreed to bring Reba, the mule for the kids to ride. So far I haven’t heard back from the deacons on my Dunk the Deacon idea. But I think we could raise a bunch of money for our missionaries if we could get them back in the dunking booth again this year. Please contact your families and all the old members who have moved out of our community to let them know about the big day. Does anybody have any comments or questions?

Willa, I’ve got something I’d like to say, said Hattie Morris abruptly.

The floor is yours, Hattie. What’s on your mind?

Hattie Harris Morris had a significant power advantage over Willa Darrow. Since the rigid church bylaws forbade women from serving as deacons, it was difficult for women to have the influence in the church they often desired unless they were married to a deacon. Hattie was highly skilled at using her husband’s deacon status to advance her agenda. She also benefitted by running Hattie’s Beauty Emporium, the only beauty shop in the community, which gave her the inside on receiving and disseminating all the local news, both actual and imagined.

Hattie arose from her place on the first pew, turned her back on Willa, and aired her grievances with the congregation. Back in December the Dixie Gentlemen unplugged the Christmas lights I used to decorate the communion table to plug in their amplifiers. We need to decide which is more important, their loud amplifiers or honoring God’s table. I also hear that one of the Dixie Gentlemen got a divorce. Do we really want some divorced sinner standin’ in front of our church and leadin’ us in worship?

Hattie’s concerns resulted in grumbling among members, but no one stood to rebut or defend Willa’s proposal. That’s when my dad took control from his moderator’s position with his familiarly comforting but firm demeanor.

Now, seems like a simple solution to the electrical problem is to run an extra extension cord. As for the divorce situation, this is the first I have heard of it, and even if it is true, Jesus died to forgive us of our sins, even that one.

Judge not lest ye be judged, said Ramona Harris Spencer, Hattie’s younger sister. That’s what Bro. Lucas told me when I went through my divorce. That ain’t none of your business!

People in the room seemed shocked at Ramona’s outburst. She seldom had much to say and most certainly not in business meetings. Hattie, the older sister, was always at war with somebody and radically different from her beautiful and polite sisters, Mona and Ramona.

Stunned by Ramona’s rebuke, Hattie’s face turned beet red as she blurted out a brief hmmmmf! She hesitated momentarily, as if waiting for someone to come to her defense, then slipped quietly back into her seat avoiding eye contact with Ramona.

You go, Ramona, I whispered resulting in an elbow in my ribs and a mean look from my mom. I wasn’t the only one savoring the moment. Cassy Himelright reached forward and delivered an affirming pat to Ramona’s shoulder which is about as close as anyone had ever come to a high five in a church meeting.

Dad called for the next report. Bro. Dominic Lawler, Cemetery Chairman, let’s hear your report.

Dominic slowly made his way to the front of the room. A rugged, generous, and kind man with a good sense of humor, Dominic was dearly loved by his church family. You could see the sympathy in the people’s eyes as they watched him struggle to the microphone. Years of extreme physical labor and a broken back in the coal mines had resulted in a prominent limp.

I’ve received some complaints about kids running in the cemetery and jumpin’ on the graves which ain’t respectful of the dead. Please git out the word that this year at Homecomin’ we don’t want none of that goin’ on. Also, on Saturday I want as many of you as can, to meet me at the cemetery at eight o’clock for Cleanup Day. Bring your rakes, wheelbarrows, and weed eaters if’n you got ‘em. Also, some of you are behind in your dues. You never know when your time is up and I just might feel ornery that day and refuse to dig your grave.

I’ll dig my hole myself when I come out there Saturday, quipped Clyde Clark as Dominic returned to his seat.

You ain’t never gonna die anyway, Dominic responded as he passed by Clyde. Too darned mean to die.

The congregation laughed as the two old friends exchanged barbs.

Suddenly my attention was lured away from the Wednesday night fights to something different in the third row. Taking roll at these meetings was always easy because the same people always sat in the same seats. But…who was that sitting in the middle of the row? Is it possible that Loving Hands Baptist Church actually has a new member? If so, that’s big news. Even more significant is that this stranger is young, beautiful, and incredibly hot.

Mom, who’s that on the third row? I whispered excitedly.

Jane Fitzwater, responded Mom with a grin. You interested?

"Oh…my gosh!

Shhhhhhh, people are staring, Mom said as she pointed toward my father who was giving me the all too familiar put a lid on it look.

In machine gun fashion, I fired off a round of questions at Mom. How long has she been here? Where did she come from? Is she married? How did she end up here? Why would she want to move way out here? A second elbow to the ribs brought me to my senses.

Dad continued the proceedings, Is there any other old business? There being none then let’s move onto new business.

I once made the mistake of asking Dad to explain the difference between old business and new business. Since people always talked about the same stuff wouldn’t it all be old business? He told me that they were conducting God’s business and that only the spiritually gifted can grasp such heavenly matters.

Once again I shifted my attention to the sweet thing in the third row and wondered if she had the gift of which he spoke. Regardless, I was feeling considerably more enlightened than when I first entered the room. Maybe God had sent her as a gift to me.

Bro. Bubba, we’ve got a crisis in the children’s department!

The word crisis in a business meeting can mean anything from a hangnail to a loose brick on the church steps. And the people who were about to speak were the drama king and queen of Loving Arms Baptist.

Jimbo and Sue Ellen Smith arose from their seats and hurriedly marched to the lectern. Good move for Jimbo but not so much for Sue Ellen. Jimbo, who borrowed his hairstyle from Bozo the Clown, towers over Sue Ellen. He is as skinny as a lamppost and six feet four while Sue Ellen can best be described as… four by four. The top of her head was barely visible as she began to speak. Her sniffles into the microphone indicated that this crisis also involved tears, also not uncommon for Sue Ellen Smith.

I’ve prayed a lot about this and I believe that God’s not happy that there is lice in our children’s department.

Murmuring filled the auditorium as Sue Ellen shuffled through her notes and fought back tears.

That’s right, ya’ll. Sue Ellen and I seen it with our own eyes, Jimbo said boldly as he looked sadly down into Sue Ellen’s misty eyes.

That family that moved in down the way in that trailer dropped their kids off for Sunday School last Sunday and they were all dirty and dressed like little tramps. I told Jimbo that we couldn’t just let them in amongst the other children ‘til we’ve had a chance to check them for lice. So I told Jimbo to bring me a comb.

That’s right. It’s just like she says, Jimbo said as he put his arm around Sue Ellen.

Jimbo pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped away her tears, and then handed it to her. As Sue Ellen blew her nose near the microphone, it sounded like a ship entering the harbor.

Again composed, Sue Ellen continued. We need volunteers to help us sanitize the Children’s Department and then somebody needs to pay those people a visit and treat those kids for lice. I’ve had nightmares every night since it happened.

As Sue Ellen’s weeping intensified, Jimbo pulled the microphone closer and declared loudly, Them children shouldn’t be allowed back in this church until they’ve been treated and we know for sure they’re clean.

It was like a scene out of a horror movie. My skin was crawling as if I too had been infested by those detestable creepy crawlies. Mona and Ramona, who sat in front of me, placed their hands over their mouths while their eyes bulged to the extent that I thought they might pop out of their sockets any second. Bernie Williams, the organist, looked whiter than the keys on his Wurlitzer. Everyone was stunned. You could have heard a pin drop in that auditorium.

Dad broke the silence. "Do we have any volunteers to go down there and help that family get rid of their lice problem?

Nobody responded.

"Has God laid it on the heart of anyone in this room to pay a visit to that family?

As the silence continued I slumped down in my seat just in case Dad was about to start appointing volunteers. However, I might be persuaded to do it if the new girl went with me. Maybe she’d be impressed if I showed compassion for those people.

Then Bro. Ronald Himelright stood to his feet and offered an idea. "How ‘bout let’s wait for the new preacher to get here. That’s something better left for the man who stands behind the sacred desk to handle.

Whenever Bro. Ronald prayed he asked God to hide the preacher behind the sacred desk. I was never quite sure about what that meant, but it was probably a good thing if it hid the pastor from Bro. Ronald.

Bro. Ronald believed that God had put him on this earth to train preachers. His favorite topic of conversation was the long list of pastors that he had molded into what God wanted them to be. The reason so many preachers came and left, he concluded, was that Loving Hands was a place for growing ministers. Conveniently eliminated from his logic was that most of those preachers left the ministry altogether.

Surely no one was surprised by Ronald Himelright’s plan. Putting preachers to the test was business as usual at Loving Hands Church. The lice crisis was a perfect molding tool for the new pastor.

To be fair, Bro. Himelright is not the only one in the church who makes life difficult for the pastor. The membership, in general, has a fanatical devotion to one another and to this old building as they hold firmly to their motto, We’ve always done it this way. Anyone…any preacher who has dared to challenge the Loving Hands way has met unyielding resistance that resulted in an early departure.

Even visitors seldom return and if they do join the church, they are forbidden entry into the inner power circle. Those coveted leadership positions belong only to those with blood ties to the church’s founding fathers…which makes the presence of the young lady in the third row even more curious.

Is there any disagreement with Bro. Ronald’s suggestion? Dad hesitated briefly and concluded, Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll let our new preacher handle it. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to have the opportunity to help a needy family.

With new business on the table, a flurry of the same old ideas and concerns were tossed from person to person like an inflated beach ball passing over a crowd at a rock and roll concert.

Bro. Ronald Himelright recommended a church boycott against Walmart because they sell rock music and R-rated movies.

Elrod Herzinger, the Youth Minister’s father, and volunteer sheriff’s deputy aired his usual bigoted security concerns. "And…what does the church plan to do about all the new families moving

into the community? We’ve been mighty lucky keepin’ the Niggers out, but that day is comin’. I wouldn’t put it past the NAACP to plant their own kind in the community to stir up trouble."

Willa Darrow again demanded time. She thought it was high time that we get some new plastic flowers for the communion table. Hattie Harris Morris took exception to Willa’s proposal arguing that my momma put those flowers there and I can’t imagine sitting in church without seeing the flowers that remind me of my dearly departed mother.

Music Minister, Luke Abernathy, challenged the church to purchase new hymn books. The old ones are worn out and there’s so much good new music that would improve our worship experience. Bernie Williams, the immaculately coifed and handsomely dressed church organist, expressed disapproval with Luke’s proposal. That new music is nothin’ but devil’s music and what’s wrong with the old hymns? If that old music was good enough for Peter and Paul, it ought to be good enough for us!

And finally, the roar of the battle was over. Silence in the room was Dad’s cue to move onto the next item of business.

It’s time to vote on the new preacher, he said calmly. "Last Sunday, you got to hear Rev. Will Justice preach his trial sermon. Thanks to the Pastor Search Committee for finding Bro. Will and they believe that he is God’s man for this time in the life of Loving Hands Baptist Church. Do you have any questions or concerns before we vote on Brother Justice?

How much we gonna pay him? shouted Ronald Himelright.

Now, Ronald…you know the answer to that question since you’re on the deacon board.

Well, I think that $30,000 a year is too much. Plus…we furnish him with a house. Preacher’s depend on God for their salary, not us. It just seems like an awful lot to pay somebody for a few sermons each week.

There’s a lot more to being a preacher than preachin’ sermons. They visit people in the hospital and in their homes, objected the moderator.

Bro. Holmes didn’t come to see me but three times back when I got my hip replaced. He never stayed longer than fifteen minutes. What you reckon he did with all that extra time?

Clyde Clark, the Treasurer, spoke up, You reckon it’s a good idea to let that family live in the parsonage? They’ve got three kids who’ll tear the place up. Where we gonna get the money to fix the place up if we’re paying the preacher so much money? Besides, I worked hard all my life and I never made that kind of money.

Seeing the direction of the discussion Dad offered up an additional bonus that the church would get by hiring Bro. Justice. Don’t forget. His wife plays the piano and that comes with the package.

Again silence prevailed. There being no further discussion let’s vote on the new preacher. Please keep in mind that the Pastor Search Committee has interviewed at least a dozen candidates for the job and Bro. Justice is the only one who has agreed to come to Loving Hands should we extend the call. We’ve already been without a pastor for four months and if we turn it back to the Search Committee, then we could be looking at another four months or longer. Remember, too, that our bylaws require a unanimous vote on a pastor.

Dad took a moment staring into the faces of the family and friends before him and then he called for a vote. All in favor of calling Bro. Will Justice as pastor at Loving Arms Baptist Church, so signify by raising your right hand high above your head.

As hands went up around the room heads turned to survey who was granting support to the new preacher. Those who were borderline or opposed looked to their chosen leadership figure for a cue on how to vote. Eventually, all hands were raised.

Those opposed?

Dad looked relieved when no hands were raised. Then let the record show that on Wednesday, February 20, 1985, Loving Hands Baptist Church extended a call to Rev. Will Justice to serve as our forty-second pastor. Tell all your friends and family to join you here on the first Sunday in March so we can give him a big welcome. There being no further business do I hear a motion to adjourn?

And just like that the battle was over and the participants talked joyfully to one another as if there had been no conflict.

Wednesday business meetings always spawn meetings on the meeting as cliquish groups huddle for additional ax grinding and juicy gossip. The cliques are like small teams always preparing for the next game striving for sufficient advantage to defeat their misinformed and misaligned opponents.

Each clique has an unofficial team leader, the one to whom the others run when there is the slightest bit of breaking news that might somehow affect the group agenda. They are particularly adept at communicating through passionate whispering, hand gestures, and facial expressions while almost supernaturally sensing the approach of an outsider. Clique meetings can convene on a moment’s notice and be initiated by something as simple as passing in a hallway, a telephone call, or a meeting in a beauty shop or burger joint. As you walk by them, they can act as if they are your biggest friends and then turn on the gossip and harsh criticism once you are out of site.

The dangerous cliques are the ones still standing when others have left the room. Not surprisingly, the power cliques were hard at it on this night in which a new pastor had been hired.

Huddled just outside my pew, and blocking my departure, was the Control the Pastor Group. Deacon Ronald Himelright was in the midst of an intense discussion with his cronies that included Music Minister, Luke Abernathy and his wife, June Himelright Abernathy. Also in their cluster was Treasurer, Clyde Clark and Dominic Lawler, the Cemetery Chairman. No doubt they were setting the high bar of expectations that Bro. Justice would have to