A Short Story by
A James Hindle

A man by the name of Colin Payne emigrated to America in the mid-1800s.

In his early years in Sheffield, England, other than an obsessive interest in literature and storytelling, Colin had shown little interest in academia. He held the same aversion to working for a living, which, in part, was the reason for his father’s suggestion that he should emigrate to America and find his fortunes and self there. And so, at 18, Colin boarded a ship for the United States of America – the land of opportunity. With no previous work experience, he became a drifter for a few years after arriving in America. Fortunately, his father had provided him with a small annual pension. So, with that, as well as the occasional temporary job, Colin survived.

The young immigrant, however, possessed a gift more valuable than anything education could ever supply him — his voice. When he spoke, he had such eloquence that there were those who said he could ‘charm the pants off the vicar’s wife’—perhaps another reason for his father suggesting he leave for America.

Over the years that followed, that eloquence matured, developing into the seasoned resonance of a well-tuned Shakespearean actor—a reverberating baritone. With his rather robust stature and his charismatic charm, his voice and character commanded attention whenever he spoke.

Colin eventually settled in a small town in Kentucky. With his time-honed oratory gift well set in his character, he was often pursued by local newspapers, politicians, and religious advocates for his persuasive talents. Yet, he remained aloof to steady employment, choosing instead to exist from the meagre pension his father continued to provide and his temporary income. For Colin, his love of reading, socializing and storytelling provided what he considered the necessities of life—that being a good drink, a little food, and sheltered lodgings. He was often found at the tavern, surrounded by a gathering of friends and strangers, unfolding one of his latest tales.

His voice was mesmerizing—a verbal illusionist, conjuring up visions of enigma and suspense – drawing his audience, spellbound, into his oral clutches. His listeners often stayed long past their usual drinking time, so entranced by both the melody of his voice and the intrigue and mystery of his storytelling. If his listeners failed to supply his drink—although they usually did—the tavern keeper gladly provided Colin pints of ale and food, making up the loss through increased sales from his audience.

One evening, having imbibed himself of a few too many, fate took Colin on a venture that would truly display his abilities.
With his tale of intrigue finished and himself about ready to head home, he became involved in a rowdy exchange with a trio of ruffians; strangers to the tavern, who were verbally accosting his friend, the barkeeper – threatening him with physical harm for informing them they were being cut off from further service for being too drunk. Although considerably inebriated himself, Colin stepped in, suggesting to the three that they should leave—at which point, they turned their attention toward him. Even in his intoxicated state, it soon became clear that the trio had made a mistake. One by one, Colin sent them to the floor, suggesting they remain there until they sobered up. Everyone in the pub, except for the three, had a good laugh. He finished the dregs in his glass and started for the door.

Sheriff John Frazier, having stopped in for a quick relaxer just as the fray concluded, watched the ruckus unfold and decided the storyteller’s safety would be better served in the security of a police cell. Colin agreed – the two had been friends for some time. After all, it was a long walk home, and the cots in the police cells were not any less comfortable than his own bed. And besides, this way, he’d have company to entertain.

It was an unusually busy evening at the jail. The sheriff, knowing Colin held no prejudice toward anyone, was put in the only uncrowded cell available – a relatively private cell with only one individual, a black man who was facing a charge of ‘Gross Indecency With Intent To Insult’. A grave offence, particularly if you were coloured. If found guilty, hanging was the probable punishment for a black man.

Colin had always felt that coloured folk received unfair treatment from both the public and the courts. His opinions often found him in heated exchanges with others of a more bigoted nature. It wasn’t long before he struck up a conversation with his cellmate, asking the obvious question of the reason for his incarceration. The black man explained his situation. Even in his inebriated state, Colin became engrossed in the man’s story and his hapless plight. Colin queried the sheriff about the legal assessment of the situation. After hearing both sides of the affair and recognizing that it would probably turn into an abominable example of white American justice on non-white Americans, Colin felt compelled to help the man.

The facts of the case, he felt, were straightforward. While on a casual walk through the park, with her husband (a man of some affluence), the wife found she urgently required a toilet. They had never been through the park before, and were unfamiliar with its amenities, however, she noticed an outhouse set back in the trees a short distance away, and even though it was beneath her to use such public facilities, her need was urgent, and she decided she had no choice. Unable to wait any longer, she told her husband that she’d be right back and scurried off to relieve herself.

The door to the toilet was slightly ajar, and in a single motion, she hastily flung it open, stumbling up and forward to enter. As she did, she was confronted directly by an older but remarkably virile-looking black man, partially crouched and in the process of pulling up his trousers, having finished his business. Shocked by the unexpected encounter, the man stood straight—in more ways than just posture—letting go of his pants, which fell back to the floor, grandly exposing himself while slapping her across her chest with his, now loose and swinging private part.

The woman had not realized, despite a sign on the structure stating Coloreds Only, that it was a segregated toilet. With her screams heard across the park, her husband came running, as did a patrolling police constable who heard the plaintiff’s cries of horror—or admiration, as the case might have been. The black man was immediately arrested and carted off to jail, where he now sat with Colin.

As chance would have it, some years earlier—shortly before his settling in Kentucky—Colin had found himself incarcerated for two years in the state prison for a crime which he claimed he didn’t commit. A story for another time.

While in prison, he got permission to access the prison’s library, where he developed an interest in their books on law. Until this day, he’d had no use for the knowledge gained. It had merely satisfied a curiosity and his passion for reading. If nothing else, he had gained an understanding of the State’s court and legal system.

With no money for representation, and a strong bias of guilty-until-proven-innocent for non-whites, Colin’s cellmate was certain to be found guilty—and quickly lynched for lack of a better word. With his gained ‘prison’ knowledge and his talent for compelling presentation, Colin realized he was possibly the best, if not the only legal help this poor soul would have.

After a further discussion of the event, Colin asked Sheriff Frazier if he would be kind enough to request permission from the presiding Judge to allow him to act as defence counsel for the accused. The Sheriff agreed to inquire.

When Colin offered to represent him in court, the black man was elated. He fell to his knees, kissing Colin’s hands in gratitude for showing such sincere interest in his case, even though he was certain he was going to hang.

Colin received permission and had three days to prepare a case.

* * * * * * * *
Before the proceedings began, Colin surreptitiously studied everyone in the courtroom, careful not to be noticed but analytical of who his audience was.

When he began his defence presentation, his voice was casual and friendly, his words carefully chosen to sweeten the predisposed thoughts of those in the courtroom. A black man on trial for accosting a white woman was guilty unless proven otherwise, and that seldom happened. Most people in the courtroom were looking forward more to the hanging than the trial.

He laid out the chain of events that led to the confrontation. He stressed the misconceived thought, that his client had no intention of displaying himself ‘with the intent of insult’. In fact, he had no notion of exposing himself at all and was as shocked at seeing a woman standing before him as she was at seeing him. The comment drew laughter in the courtroom until the judge contained their amusement by gavelling order.

He continued his performance, keeping the resonance in his voice low, always watching the facial expressions of the judge and others present as they became ever more hypnotically seduced. His client was not guilty of the crime as charged and he would make them believe that.

As his defence presentation progressed, his elocution grew louder and more authoritative, lashing out at the audience. As he neared the end, his voice thundered through the courtroom like a Baptist pastor bringing his parishioners home from their path of sinfulness. Some of those present grew decidedly nervous, fearing the wrath of God was about to descend on them. The courtroom had become more of a congregational revival than a criminal trial.

Colin grew visually angry—appalled that a man should be fearful while using the toilet, nervous that someone could fling the door open—accidental or intentionally—exposing his half-drawer’d self and rendering him hopelessly embarrassed.

The defendant had been using the toilet as it was intended, with no intent or thought to expose himself to anyone. He had no knowledge that this woman was even approaching. The fact of the matter was that it was not he who had exposed himself but his accuser.

When Colin abruptly stopped, the courtroom was frozen, remaining silent for several minutes. People barely breathed, fearful that the first to make a sound would be struck straight to Hell.

Colin stood next to his client, turning to face the judge.

“This man is innocent of these charges, Your Honor,” his voice rumbled.
“He deserves freedom.”

The black man was found,
“NOT GUILTY” 
. . . . . . . and released without prejudice.