Son of a Killer

By K. D. Lewis

Author K.D. Lewis recounts the evolution of the serial killer father he became reunited with later in life. Armed with newly discovered information about his father's past debased life, Lewis seeks to explore and understand his own struggles with mental illness that likely plagued both his parents and may have ultimately destroyed him. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: LandMark Publishing
• Release date: Oct 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780692037232

Book preview

Son of a Killer

Landmark Publishing

Son of a Killer

Copyright 2020 K.D. Lewis

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. This book is based on actual events and persons. However, names and some likenesses have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved in the events.

Learn more about the book and author at:

www.facebook.com/sonofakiller20

ISBN: 978-0-578-77169-4 (print)

ISBN: 978-0-692-03723-2 (ebook)

Library of Congress Control Number:

First Printing: October 2020

Printed in the United States of America

Edited and composed by Annette R. Johnson, Allwrite Publishing

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: A Mother’s Determination and Motivation1

Chapter 2: A Sister’s Best Kept Secret 11

Chapter 3: New Beginnings17

Chapter 4: Black and White TV23

Chapter 5: Warning Comes Before Destruction27

Chapter 6: Innocence Lost41

Chapter 7: Crack Pipes and Poisonous Tongues49

Chapter 8: Grandma Takes Charge61

Chapter 9: The Day They Took My Mom Away75

Chapter 10: Coming to Grips with Reality83

Chapter 11: Father Behind Bars95

Chapter 12: Losing Hope99

Chapter 13: Like Mother Like Son113

Chapter 14: Wrong End of the Law 125

Chapter 15: Running Away 131

Chapter 16: A New Life141

Chapter 17: Genetic Truth151

Chapter 18: Old Habits Die Hard165

Chapter 19: Inside Prison Walls181

Chapter 20: A Friend with the Devil195

Chapter 21: Laced Dinners and Drinks207

Chapter 22: So Deeply in Love225

Chapter 23: Peace and Happiness241

Chapter 24: In Their Words255

Chapter 25: Crazy Is as Crazy Does263

Chapter 1

A Mother’s Determination and Motivation

Push, push, push! yelled the nurse to my great grandmother. The day was May 2, 1932, in Mobile, Alabama.

Although I would never meet her, I would often hear stories about her delivery of my paternal grandmother on that day, and her drive and willingness to raise her children.

My grandmother, Mattie Lee Haney, was a short, fair-skinned woman with beautiful, silky hair—which I assume came from her partial Indian heritage. Because she was my great grandmother’s first-born child, she matured quickly, growing to love the attention she would get from older men. She got pregnant with her first child, Bessie Haney, at only 12 years old and delivered her on May 16, 1945. Three years later, she became impregnated by a different man and birthed a second baby girl, Bernice Haney, on January 28, 1948, in Mobile.

At only 16 years of age, my grandmother was a fully matured woman. In search of a new beginning, following a difficult breakup, she moved to Chicago’s southside with her two children away from the South and its oppressive social and economic conditions. There, she worked to raise and provide for them and herself. She successfully supported her household alone until she met yet another man, Joe Lewis, in 1954.

Joe was a sweet, older guy who truly had a deep love for Mattie. He simply couldn’t resist her stunning beauty.

My grandmother had only known Joe for a short period of time before she became pregnant again. She delivered her first boy, Carlton Maurice Lewis, on April 5, 1955. In hopes of being able to be a real family, Joe and Mattie married shortly there after.

Even though they were able to manage to stay together for a little while, their romance, like most good things, didn’t last. Within the two years that the couple spent together, a lot of arguments and breakups occurred—most of which began to take place after their first year together.

Over time, Joe developed a pattern of walking out of my grandmother’s life for small periods of time when they would disagree and he kept this routine up for a while. The second time he came back after a period of separation, Mattie was pregnant from another man, Sam William Taylor. Their child, Shirley Ann Lewis, was born on July 4, 1957. She was a dark-skinned, beautiful baby girl whose nickname would be Charlene.

In February 1958, Mattie became pregnant again by another man, Benny Keith. Nancy Lewis was born November 18, 1958, in Michael Reece Hospital on the southside of Chicago. Although she was Benny’s daughter, Mattie gave her baby the last name ‘Lewis’ because she was still married to Joe.

January 6, 1960, Mattie delivered her sixth child, a dark brown-skinned baby boy, Sam Curtis Lewis, whom she had with yet another man who she eventually had to cut ties with.

No stranger to dating, Mattie quickly got into another relationship with a man named C. L. Markum. He was a tall, high yellow fellow. She dated C. L. briefly before she became pregnant with her seventh and last child, Rodney Markum Lewis, who was born on June 8, 1961.

Despite her circumstances, Mattie was determined to make it. She held multiple jobs (both part-time and full-time) in order to pay her bills. She had received just about all the financial assistance that was readily available to her, and she would also often see various men, seeking their support.

Because of my grandmother’s kindness and determination, I was taken aback when my aunts Nancy, Charlene, and Bernice told me that she was set on fire. More than 80 percent of her body sustained third-degree burns. What was even more shocking to me was the revelation that my grandmother was arrested as a suspect in a first-degree murder case later on in her life.

Grandma Peggy

In 1952, in Greenville, Mississippi, my maternal grandmother, Everlena Peggy Bryant, was born. She was the second to the last of a total of 12 children that were born to my great grandmother, Ma’Dear, and she is also the one of the last two out of the 12 who are currently still living today. Although I never met my Great Grandmother Ma’Dear, I have heard great things about her.

Like her mother, my grandmother Peggy has always been a woman who exudes strength and power. She is an independent woman who always takes charge in whatever situations she may find herself. At the age of 13, she would meet a man, L.C. Appleton Jr., who was far older than she was. She became pregnant by L.C., and the two welcomed their first child, Marilyn Bryant (a.k.a. Nana), on April 13, 1967. With a child to raise and provide for, my Grandma Peggy dropped out of middle school and moved in with L.C.

One year later, at the age of 14, she became pregnant again with my mother, whom she delivered on April 29,1968. My mother was a plump, dark-skinned baby, weighing in at nine pounds at birth. She was named Lena Bryant, but everyone called her ‘Plum’.

Many people believe that the third time is a charm, and maybe so did my Grandma Peggy, because on January 2, 1970, she delivered her third child by L.C., her first son, Larry Bryant (a.k.a. Sunny).

My grandmother told me that my grandfather L.C. wasn’t as much of a man outside of the home as he was inside. She told me that he did just about everything under the sun from stealing to committing fraud, and it wasn’t long before his sins caught up to him.

In March of 1975, L.C. died from a gunshot wound to the neck. The authorities never charged the preacher’s son who confessed to having loaded the gun that accidentally went off killing L.C.

My grandma said his death crushed her. To her, he was a great man who helped her develop into a woman. She said she didn’t realize that he was giving her the tools and knowledge that she would need to take care of herself and their children in the event of his death.

A Trip to the Midwest

After L.C.’s passing, my Grandma Peggy was living in a house in Mississippi. Earning low wages and struggling to pay bills, she decided to migrate from the South to the Midwest, her destination of choice being Chicago.

Upon arriving in Chicago, she met a man by the name of John Harris, and they had two children. Peggy and John stayed on the southside of Chicago on 52 and May Street. They did their best to raise all five children together with John as the breadwinner and Peggy as a stay-at-home mother.

Despite their circumstances, her children seemed to be navigating school life well, earning good grades and timely promotions. Well, all of the children with the exception of my mother, Plum, were doing well in school. Throughout her educational years, my mother was placed in special education classes until she eventually dropped out of school in eleventh grade. She was often the child of ridicule, as her siblings, and adults and kids in the community, would often call her ‘slow, fat and stupid."

When she was in the ninth grade, Plum went running home to her mother crying about a group of kids who had jumped on her without the presence of her big sister. A frustrated mother, tired of her daughter being bullied, tired of talking to other parents about their kids assaulting her child, and tired of storming up to her daughter’s school in her house shoes and a night gown to take matters up with school faculty, my Grandma Peggy told my mother that the next person who hit her, she was to hit them back and she better not bring [her] ass back home crying again. She told her that she had better pick up whatever object was closest to her and bust their muthafucking head open.

Once my grandmother gave the orders, my mother adhered to them.

One day, in 1983, my mother was walking home from the Tilden High School when she spotted a group of girls following closely behind her. Her mother’s voice was on replay in her mind saying, Don’t bring your ass back in this house crying. Even though she was alone, she wasn’t as fearful as she had been before.

She could hear the group of girls getting closer and closer, making jokes and teasing her. Ready for battle, she turned around to face the group. As the biggest girl approached her, my mother proceeded to put her hand in her pocket. As the bully got closer, my mother yanked her weapon from her pocket and swung it as hard as she could! Not looking forward to the potential consequences of her actions, she dropped her weapon and ran home as fast as she could!

Once she reached home, my mother’s mother greeted her in the living room. Her adrenalin was pumping, and she was nervous about the reaction that her mother would give her.

What’s wrong? my grandmother asked. What happened?

I was about to get jumped, so I stabbed the girl in the eye, my mother responded.

What!? What you stab her with? Peggy worriedly asked.

I stabbed her with a screwdriver! Plum excitedly responded.

Where did you get the screwdriver from? asked Peggy.

I got it from the garage.

Although Grandma Peggy didn’t seem like she wouldn’t be giving Plum a butt whopping, Plum stood in her mother’s face nervous. She always felt like she was her mother’s least favorite child, the one her mother despised and had the most disdain for. Plum remained unsure about what her consequences would be, and she had hoped that she wouldn’t be too severely punished.

About 20 minutes later, several police cars arrived at Peggy’s house. Still frustrated and irate about the whole ordeal, Peggy stepped outside. An officer proceeded to walk onto the porch. At that point, Plum was frightened, but Grandma Peggy was ready to face the officer’s head on.

Good day, ma’am, the officer said. You have a daughter here by the name Plum?

Yes, I do, she responded and then instructed Plum to step on the porch.

What’s going on now, officers? Peggy asked.

Your daughter is being accused of stabbing a girl in the eye.

Peggy looked at Plum and asked her what happened.

Momma, I stabbed her, Plum admitted without remorse. They tried to jump on me first.

One of the officers pulled Plum to the side to begin questioning her. Peggy fussed and became a bit unwilling to cooperate with the officers who were asking questions her.

Look, my daughter was defending herself. She ain’t never bothered nobody in school. She is not a bully and she is frightened okay!

Moments later, Plum walked back over to the porch to her mother, as the three officers conversed about what the outcome of the situation would be.

Surely, the officer could sense some cognitive dissonance in Plum due to her obliviousness to her actions and her willingness to harm someone again. The officers decided to not press charges, but they did leave the situation in the principal’s and school board’s hands. They instructed Peggy to call the school in the morning, then all three officers got in their squad cars and left.

From that day, Plum would continue to defend herself against bullies.

A group of people looking at the camera Description automatically generated

Figure 1: My mother, Lena aka Plum

Chapter 2

A Sister’s Best Kept Secret

By 1974, my father, Rodney and his sister, Nancy had developed a close bond.

When I was young, my mother would always describe Nancy as the loud, laughing and silly sister.

Nancy told me that Rodney was a little ‘off’ and that the whole family knew it, but they never said anything because he was the baby of the family. She described my father as always being energetic and playful, which is probably why no one seemed to worry about him until he was a teenager.

Nancy said that Rodney was a loving boy—so loving that he would give you the shirt off of his back. However, he just seemed too weird at times.

Nancy told me that when he was 13 years old, she and Rodney were walking down an alley on the southside of Chicago during the middle of a hot day. They both had seen a large, stray dog walking far up ahead of them in the alley. To get home quicker, they took the normal route to their house, a route in which they had to walk through a neighbor’s back yard. Wanting to go his own way, my father particularly chose not to follow Nancy and kept walking in the direction of the stray dog.

An hour or so later, my dad returned with blood all over the bottom of his shirt. Nancy had a strange gut feeling that Rodney had done something terrible to that animal, but she didn’t ask any questions. She simply kept her speculations to herself and never said anything until my father was around the age of 15 when their mother and some of their siblings found skeletal remains of an animal under their home’s porch. Nancy confronted my father, as well as the rest of their siblings and their mother, but that was as far as any type of interrogation went.

The Lewis family was very good at keeping secrets and protecting their baby brother. So, Nancy took it upon herself to have a private conversation with her favorite sibling, and he admitted to her that he killed animals for fun. She told me she took her questioning a step further and asked him about her suspicions about the stray dog that he followed on their way home in the alley.

Did you kill that dog, too? she asked him with great curiosity.

No, my father simply replied. I had sex with her.

Nancy couldn’t believe that her brother had just admitted to having sex with an animal. That’s when she realized that something was severely wrong with her baby brother. But it would be too late to get him the help that he needed before he committed the most heinous crime that goes against all crimes of humanity and any rational person’s morals.

In the winter of 1976, my father’s family would no longer be able to protect or lie for him. He had taken his callous and malicious behavior to new measures. One day, he and a group of friends walked down the street looking for a victim to rob. They spotted an old white lady walking and minding her business. Figuring that she was an easy target, they all ran towards her and snatched her purse.

My father stayed behind as the other juveniles ran. Once everyone had gotten far enough away, he brutally beat the old lady with his fists. One of the other boys looked on hysterically yet perplexed, but my father continued to assault the old lady until she became unconscious.

Once the crime was finished, Rodney ran down the street, where he was met by members of the Chicago Police Department. They had seen a suspicious commotion towards the end of the block, so they held him until they could figure out what was going on. The officers could see that Rodney’s hands were swollen and that there were specks of blood on his clothes, so they placed him in the back seat of the squad car and drove in the direction from where they had seen him run.

About a block away, they saw the woman lying on the ground, unresponsive with a