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“But we should stand for a man murdered in front of his wife and seven-year-old son.”
Merritt exhaled with what sounded like temper and frustration. He removed the last of the soap from his face with the water in the basin, then dried himself with a small towel. “All right, I’m listening. What happened?”
Drake relayed what he knew, adding, “This is the same Liam Atwater who ran workers off his plantation after the harvest last year to keep from paying them what they’d earned in wages.”
“And he was warned not to do it again.”
“But not warned against murder.”
“What is it you want me to do, LeVeq?”
“Have him arrested.”
“Were there witnesses?”
“His wife and son.”
“I mean White witnesses?”
Drake’s jaw hardened. “I’m sure his overseer was there.”
“But you don’t know that for a fact.”
“No.”
“Where’s the body?”
“Taken to the swamp and left there.”
“So, you have no credible witnesses and no body. The police are going to want at least one part of that answer, if not both.”
“Are you saying you won’t advocate he be charged with murder?”
“I’m saying, based on what you told me, there’s nothing the Army can do. Now, there’s a line of living freedmen at the door waiting to be served, so you should go to your desk.”
Drake didn’t know why he’d bothered. He knew Merritt wouldn’t care. Swallowing his rage, he said, “I’m taking this up the chain of command.”
“Good luck with that, but don’t expect to have a desk when you return. Volunteer or not, I just gave you a direct order. Ignore it, and your services are no longer welcome. And I’ll take that up the chain of command.”
Drake offered a bitter chuckle. A two-word phrase came to mind, but instead of voicing it, he turned and walked out of Merritt’s office. Pausing at his desk, he picked up his valise, and left the Freedmen’s Bureau for the last time.
His quest to find someone willing to stand for justice continued at the office of the Bureau’s regional commander.
“He’s ill, and not taking appointments at this time,” Drake was told by his aide.
“When is he expected to return?”
The aide shrugged.
“Then who may I speak to instead?”
“Your local commanding officer.”
“He refuses to support charges being brought.”
“Then I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry.”
Frustration rising with each breath, he went to the local authorities, only to be told, “A niggress can’t testify against a man like Atwater, so until you get someone who can, nothing we can do.”
