Trial of Injustice

By T.K.Ware

On a Thursday morning in Banker, Alabama the body of a twenty-one year-old woman was discovered murdered. After the police and forensics inspected, with the help of eyewitnesses and fingerprints, the man responsible for the heinous crime was identified as Pastor Thaddeus Ganvis.

Charles 'Esquire' Everson, a man gifted with determination and an avenger of truth, became the most prestigious and sought after lawyer in the state of Alabama, due to his unwavering litigation skills. After finishing another victorious case, he returned to his office. As the day continued, he found himself logging into Facebook, and nearly dropped his phone when he discovered that his former pastor was arrested for first-degree murder.

Without a second thought, he flew to Banker, Alabama to prove the innocence of a godly man. Along the way he discovers the opposition that threatens.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.K.Ware
• Release date: Jan 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393253082

Book preview

Insightful Creation Publication

Trial of INJUSTICE

A Novel

T.K.WARE

Copyright © 2016 by Tshombye K. Ware

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Insightful Creation Publication

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www.insightfulcp.com

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WEB OF ALLURE: THE ENTRAPMENT

IF I COULD: A SON’S PLEA

A HUSBAND’S LOVE

THE PASTOR’S DAUGHTER

EBONY’S CONFESSIONS

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SELF-REFLECTIONS

TRIAL OF INJUSTICE

BEEN THERE, DONE THAT

THOUGHTS OF THE FOREST

MEMORY IOTA

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THE POWER OF WORDS

THE POWER OF FORGIVENESS

THE POWER OF DELIVERANCE

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utilizing your gifts to advance the kingdom

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RUN THE RACE: 50 DAYS OF INSPIRATION

21 DAY JOURNEY OF -INSPIRATION

THE WRITINGS OF EPIPHANY

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HELLO QUEEN

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WHOSE REPORT WILL YOU BELIEVE

FRET NOT, IT’S THE SAME POWER

KEEP GOING, IT’S NOT OVER

TIME DRAWETH NIGH

YOUR CIRCUMSTANCE IS JUST A STANCE FOR HIS GLORY

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Epilogue

Chapter 1

BANKER INN HOTEL ROOM 226

Banker, Alabama

1:30 a.m.

A SCREAM RESOUNDED in the room and echoed along the hallway of The Banker Inn Hotel. The housekeeper darted out the room, and took off running downstairs, tears streaming against her blushed cheeks. She pounded on the front desk and reported her findings. 

When the police and ambulance arrived, a twenty-one-year-old woman was found murdered.

Sheriff Rudolph entered the room with an exaggerated smirk on his face. He studied the room and gazed at paramedics carrying the body away. In the far corner, next to the lamp, his heart skipped a beat when he locked in on a white plastic glove. He rushed over and stuffed the glove in his pocket. As soon as he turned around, Chad Weller greeted him. 

How are you doing, Sheriff Rudolph? His eyes flashed with excitement. I want to thank you personally for calling me. He took out a small camera and inserted an SD card. I can’t believe we have a murder in town, and I’m the first reporter to the scene! I know this is going to get me brownie points. Thank you again for a calling, sheriff.

Sheriff Rudolph wiped the beads of sweat crawling down his forehead. This goes against protocol, but I’ll allow it this time. The crime scene technicians have already retrieved the necessary information. So take pictures, but don’t touch anything. He walked away and stopped at the door. When you’re finished, come see me and I’ll tell you who committed this crime.

Chad nodded and closed one eye as he flashed a picture. 

When Sheriff Rudolph made it to his car, he took his phone out. 

Sir, it’s complete. The body has been taken away.

Good. Has Thaddeus Ganvis been arrested?

Sheriff Rudolph smiled. I'm about to dispatch my deputies now.

Make sure everything goes as planned. The ball is in your court. Don’t mess this up.

Yes, sir. You can count on me. I won’t fail. 

Chapter 2

At 3:15a.m., two police cars zoomed through the pouring rain of Banker and turned down the street of the suspect’s home. Minutes before pulling into the driveway, Deputy Macabe grabbed his radio.

We’ve arrived at the home of Thaddeus Ganvis, 316 John Avenue. Stand by.

Several minutes later, Pastor Ganvis rose from his bed with a deep frown. His wife opened her eyes, glanced over at the clock, and looked at him.

Who is that beating on our door at this time of morning?

He slid in to his slippers and reached for his robe. I don’t know, but I’m about to go find out.

By the time he got a few feet away from the front door, the pounding increased. He peered out the peephole and opened the door. 

Can I help you, officers?

The sergeant standing in front of him took a few steps backwards. His hand hovered an inch above his gun. Are you Thaddeus Ganvis? 

Yes, that’s him, Deputy Macabe said, pushing a ball of snuff to the other side of his mouth. I can recognize that dark face anywhere.

I am Pastor Thaddeus Ganvis. How can I help you?

Cynthia entered the front room, typing the strap on her robe. What is going on?

He glanced back and threw up a hand. Let me handle this, honey.

The two officers on the edge of the porch made their way closer to the door. Pastor Ganvis stared at them for a few seconds and turned his attention back to the officer in front of him. He narrowed his eyes down at the badge and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his robe.

Now, Sergeant Pertule, what seems to be the problem?

The short, stocky officer with pale skin to the right of him took a step backwards and yanked his gun out. The other officers followed his lead. 

Pertule reached for his gun. Take your hands out of your pockets! He swallowed slowly and paused. Please don’t do anything you’ll regret. I can’t stop them from shooting if you pull out a weapon. So please, take your hands out of your pockets.

Pastor Ganvis threw his hands up, eyes widening. Hey! Calm down! I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t have a weapon!

Cynthia screamed and ran up behind him. Please don’t shoot.

Move an inch and I’ll put two bullets in you, Jefferson said, aiming his gun.

I just want him to flinch, Macabe said, aiming his gun. Make a move. That’s all I want.

Pertule motioned to the other officers. Lower your guns. That’s an order! He turned to his right. Macabe, take your hand off the trigger.

Macabe released the bite off his bottom lip and lowered his gun.

Pertule took the handcuffs off his belt. Thaddeus Ganvis, you’re under arrest for the murder of Tina Crenshaw. You have the right to—

Cynthia stepped in front of him. You are not going to arrest my husband!

Macabe pushed her aside with his arm. Ma’am, please let us do our job. Stay out of our way.

Cynthia knocked his arm down. You get out of the way.

His brow wrinkled as he bit down on his bottom lip. Then, he shoved her back down to the carpet with his arm and pointed.

Woman, I said let us do our—

A shriek escaped Macabe’s lips. His breathing stilted as his vision became dark. Pastor Ganvis’ massive hands locked around his neck like a python. 

Have you lost your mind? Don’t ever put your hands on my wife! Do you hear me? 

Within seconds, Jefferson and the other officers struck Pastor Ganvis with their sticks until he released his grip. Macabe fell to the ground, huffing and puffing. When his face returned to its normal pale color, he jumped back to his feet and pressed the barrel of his gun to Pastor Ganvis’ forehead.

Macabe! No! Sergeant Pertule yelled. We have orders!

Macabe pushed the barrel deeper. I don’t care! Saliva dripped from his crusted lips. I ought to blow his head clean off! He let out a few coughs. Stupid preacher had no business putting his hands on me! I’m the law. His woman should’ve been trained properly.

Pastor Ganvis’ anger mounted. His eyes tightened as he clenched his fists. You have five seconds to take this gun out my face or I’ll make you use it. Five ... four ... three ... two ...

Thaddeus, Cynthia screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Please don’t do it.

Macabe! Pertule called out. Sheriff Rudolph gave us direct orders. Are you going to go against his command? I’ll tell him you disobeyed and took matters into your own hands.

Macabe glared over, exhaled, and lowered his gun. He paused and then spat on Pastor Ganvis’ slippers.

Pastor Ganvis glanced down, pushed out a gasp of air, and unclenched his fists. 

The rest of you go back and get in the squad cars, Pertule commanded. The situation is under control. He looked over at Jefferson. You can go wait at the car with the rest of them. 

Jefferson walked off mumbling. 

Pertule waited a second more and continued. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. He paused. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?

Yes, Pastor Ganvis said, looking over at his wife. Go get my shoes.

She rushed to the back and brought a change of shoes. As soon as he slid into them, Macabe escorted him to the car.

Mrs. Ganvis, Pertule said, taking out a card. I’m sorry about the way my colleagues behaved. Forgive them. There is no excuse for their behavior. 

She took the card and never moved her eyes from the police car. Tears crawled down in streaks with each passing second.

Pertule glanced back at the car. Once again I’m sorry, ma’am. He took a deep swallow and slowly shook his head. There is no excuse for my fellow officer’s behavior. You can call down to the station in the morning. If you have a lawyer, now is a good time to call him.

Chapter 3

CYNTHIA DRAGGED AROUND the house, still wearing her house robe, with a box of Kleenex in her hand. Crumbled up balls of tissues clung to her jet-black frizzy hair. Her copper-colored eyes had turned bloodshot from the countless hours of crying. She had spent the last few hours searching for lawyers that would help her husband before collapsing on the couch in a crying frenzy. In between weeping and multiple phone calls around the city, her hope seeped away. 

By noon, she forced herself into some clothes and drove downtown to the police station. Before getting out of the car, she closed her eyes and prayed. In the midst of her prayer, new tears crawled down her caramel cheeks. She wiped her emotions away and walked into the station. Upon her entrance, heads turned her way, followed by an array of mumbles. 

Once the clerk behind the desk saw her, she made a call. Cynthia walked up to the counter, cuddling her emotions. 

My name is Cynthia Ganvis. She sniffed a couple of times. I am the wife of Pastor Thaddeus Ganvis and you have arrested him on false charges. My husband has not done anything wrong. She turned her head and wiped the tears crawling down. What is wrong with you people? You know my husband didn’t commit the crime. Her tears dried up as anger took the forefront. How dare you barge into our home and drag him away like a criminal! Let him go! Let him go! In the name of Jesus! You will let my husband go! I will not leave until—

Hello, Mrs. Ganvis, Sheriff Rudolph interrupted, touching her gently on the shoulder. I overheard you from my office and I wanted to see if I can help in any way. Please follow me so we can talk.

Once they entered the office, he pushed the door closed and pointed at the chair in front of his desk.

Please have a seat, Mrs. Ganvis. He walked around and sat down in the opposite chair. I heard your rant outside and hopefully, I can be of help. He touched his chest. From the bottom of my heart, I want to offer my apologies for the tragedy that has found its way to your doorsteps. Crime is always hard on the family of the accused. The thought of it alone breaks my heart. Instead of preaching sermons, he’s out there committing murder.

Sheriff ... She studied the name on the badge. Sheriff Rudolph, my husband is innocent of the crime that you’re attempting to place on him. We were asleep when those policemen pounded on our door like madmen. They had the nerve to drag my husband away in his pajamas. She took out some clothes from an oversized purse and placed them on the edge of the desk. Here are some clothes for him.

Sheriff Rudolph stared at the clothes and rolled his eyes up to her. Please forgive my deputies. They were only following orders. As for the clothes, I’ll make sure he gets them. He leaned forward. I wouldn’t call my guys madmen, Mrs. Ganvis. We found the body of the victim at Banker Inn Hotel on Harold Blvd. Her name is Tina Crenshaw. Does that name ring a bell?

No.

From the looks of the hotel room, I’m assuming he was having an affair with her.

Excuse me? My husband didn’t have an affair?

That’s what it looked like to me. I deal with cases like this all the time. The husband goes off to a hotel with some random woman. Tina’s past is flooded with drugs and prostitution, so I don’t think this is a coincidence. The news media are going to have a field day with this one. He blew out a gasp of air as if saddened. A reporter was at the scene of the crime taking pictures. I don’t know how he found out, and I can’t even imagine what type of report he’ll write.

Cynthia’s brow wrinkled. Thoughts of infidelity entered her mind, but she quickly brushed them off. This is absurd! My husband is innocent! He is a fifty-eight-year-old man who loves God with all of his heart.

Sheriff Rudolph smiled. I’m sure most people deep down inside love God. However, that doesn’t prevent them from committing a crime. I bet every convicted felon would say they love God, so that doesn’t mean anything.

Cynthia shook her head. It doesn’t make sense. We just had a church revival a few days ago, so why in the world would he murder someone? He’s faithful. He’s innocent....

Sheriff Rudolph sat back in his chair with one eyebrow raised, absorbing everything. The skin on his face sagged like wet clothes. He had thick grey eyebrows, matching his dense mustache, hanging over the top of his pastel lips. As she continued, he scratched at his thick beard wrapping around his pinkish hue face, and glanced down at the police report on his desk. After she finished talking, he leaned forward. 

I understand your argument, Mrs. Ganvis. You feel like your husband is innocent of the crime. I could ask you a list of questions concerning your husband’s location during the time of the crime, but I’m not going to do that. Honestly, it will be a waste of time. He narrowed his eyes at her. Besides, you’re not around him twenty-four hours a day, so he could’ve easily committed the crime and returned home before supper. Has your husband ever left the house without you?

Of course he has.

Exactly. So you’re not around him twenty-four hours a day. 

That doesn’t prove my husband is guilty of anything.

What if I told you that I have pictures of him with the woman he murdered? A devilish grin stretched across his face. A woman who has visited your church.

I don’t believe a word you’re saying.

Mrs. Ganvis, I’ve been in law enforcement for twenty years. I have no reason to lie.  I don’t make mistakes and my guys don’t make mistakes. Forgive me if they disturbed your precious sleep. It is our duty to arrest all criminals, regardless of their profession. A soft chuckle escaped his lips. Ole Pastor Ganvis tried to hide his secrets. Doesn’t your book say something about your sins shall find you? Ha-ha. Well, Ole Pastor Ganvis’ sins have found him. If you break the law in my town, you’re going to jail. I don’t care who you are.

Excuse me? she said. I don’t know what kind of show you have going on down here but my husband is innocent.

Sheriff Rudolph slightly smiled. I tell you what; I’ll let you go speak with him, and maybe you can convince him to confess to the crime. It will help speed things up so we can go back to our normal lives.

Cynthia stood. There is no confession because my husband didn’t do anything.

Sheriff Rudolph picked up the phone. "Would you like