SHERIFF ANGUS BEAUFORD STOOD BEFORE JUSTICE Nicholas Moody and read the following request:
Port Roseway, March 10, 1785
Justice Nicholas Moody,
I ask your favourable permission to solicit the release of Fortune Redmond from his present confinement. I am content that he had no part in the crime of murder against Mr. Cecil MacLeod, on the ninth January 1785, nor in the attempted robbery of goods from Mr. MacLeod’s store. It is my belief that he himself fell victim to a crime and that he went to Sheriff Beauford with honest intentions to declare the truth of his situation. I am content that he is an admirable Negro and a good citizen of Birchtown, having fought in the King’s army. I am, with due submission, Gentlemen,
Your most obedient Honourable servant,
Birchtown Magistrate
Colonel Septimus Black
As the Birchtown magistrate, Colonel Black had intervened in Fortune’s case by petitioning Justice Moody, just as he had promised. The Redmonds were grateful for his interest in the case, while his efforts brought him renewed respect in Birchtown.
Fortune sat to their right, his legs in irons and his hands in chains. He was thin, unshaven and his face was drawn. He did not look at his mother or daughter, but kept his eyes fixed on the magistrate. Lydia, Sarah and Enos listened intently as the sheriff read Colonel Black’s letter. When Sheriff Beauford reached the part stating Fortune served in the king’s army, the Judge’s eyes widened and he nodded his head in support.
Outside the courthouse, the small gathering of black and white citizens swelled, soon spreading out across the yard and down the road. Raw emotions charged the air as opinions seesawed back and forth.
One man said, “That Negro killed Cecil. We don’t need to wait to convict him.”
Another shouted, “We would be murderers if we did not wait for justice.”
A tall woman in a floppy bonnet screamed, “We have enough proof.”
“We need to hear his side.”
“You know Negroes never tell the truth.”
“He fought for the king and that alone makes him a good man.”
“I say we are getting soft on the Negroes and this proves we need more laws to keep them in line.”
Neither side gained enough strength to take the lead. It was not quite a mob, but all it would take was one forceful speaker, a shepherd, and the majority would fall into step, march to one beat like a herd of sheep.
Beulah kept her eyes fixed on the door to the courthouse. She could not bring herself to enter. She was listening to all the remarks and growing nervous. She kept her ears tuned for trouble. It was not until she heard ol’ Brown say that if the judge found Fortune guilty and Fortune would be found swinging from a tree, did she realize the horror of the situation. She moved back to the fringe, and then further until the loud chatter became a muffle.
Margaret Cunningham placed her hand on Beulah’s shoulder. “Any word on how this is going?”
“No, Ma’am. The magistrate arrived but an hour ago.”
“Did Lydia make it? Is she inside?”
“Yes Ma’am. Enos drove us here and he went inside with her.”
“I’m glad of that. From what Lydia tells me, they were all victims of that terrible Boll weevil. Who knows what would have become of them?”
“That’s true, Ma’am. They are lucky to be here. Do you think the magistrate will believe Fortune?” She faced Margaret with a lump in her throat so large it felt like an apple.
“That is a good question. I have faith in Nicholas. He is a good man and an excellent magistrate.” She paused a moment, not wanting to fill Beulah with unreasonable hope. “His position on Negroes has always been fair. I know that he will do the right thing.”
“I can only believe what Mother Redmond says, that the heart of a man will always show its hand. If the magistrate is a good man, we will have Fortune back.”
“There is much to consider and not one witness. All the judge has is Fortune’s words and the sheriff’s evidence. There are no statements from Lydia or Sarah.”
“What about Boll weevil?”
“I heard that Boll weevil lost his memory and cannot recall that night.”
“I dare say that he came up with such a trick to keep from being found guilty.”
“A trick?”
Beulah moved closer to Mrs. Cunningham. She kept her voice low. “He’s a smart one. If he cannot remember, then no one will question his guilt. He wants sympathy. He knows exactly what he is doing. He’s betting that everyone will assume Fortune is guilty. If you ask me, there is not a thing wrong with that man. Anyway, it all rests on the credit of Fortune’s story.”
“That’s true. Mr. Carter thinks he is a wise fox, but do not give him too much credit. Nicholas is a far wiser man who has seen the best and the worst of the criminal mind. I dare say that thinking yourself too smart can lead to tripping yourself up.”
“I do not doubt that. I hope that Sheriff Beauford found a clue, something to help the magistrate reach a decision.”
“It won’t be long before we know. The facts are as plain as the nose on your face and, by God, I think the facts are on Fortune’s side.”
“I hope so, Ma’am, I surely do.”
Margaret hugged Beulah. “It will all go well, just you wait and see.”
In the courtroom, the heat from the wood stove filled the crowded space. Onlookers twisted and turned in their seats. Sarah could feel their anger and she moved closer to Grandmother. Her heart raced as she reached for the old woman’s hand and silently prayed. Grandmother squeezed her hand hard. She wished she could squeeze away all the nervous energy that was keeping her on the edge of her seat.
Justice Moody sat with an odd look of displeasure on his face. He removed his monocle, wiped it with a large white handkerchief and returned it to his face. After clearing his throat several times, he raised his gavel and struck the bench twice. Reading from some papers, he said:
On this day, the twelfth of March, seventeen hundred and eighty-five, I hereby state that the facts pertaining to this case are clear and concise. There were no witnesses to the crime, therefore my summary and judgment are as follows:
Cecil MacLeod was murdered. The murder weapon was a hunting knife. That part is clear. The weapon used to kill Mr. MacLeod was on Boll weevil Carter’s person when found in Mr. MacLeod’s cellar. Having failed to remove all of the blood from the knife handle, and having blood stains on his hands, jacket and pants at the time he was rescued, I hereby declare Boll weevil Carter to be the murderer.
He paused for a few seconds, and then continued.
An attempted robbery appeared to be in progress at the time of or following the murder. The murderer failed to leave with the stolen goods, therefore no robbery occurred. It is known hereabouts that slave catchers, such as Boll weevil Carter, were in the service of their employers or the local authorities to retrieve Negroes from this province. That fact may be connected to this horrible act of murder, but that remains to be proven.
Grandmother held Sarah, clinging to her like a frightened orphan, waiting anxiously for a decision that would either liberate or condemn their beloved Fortune.
Justice Moody discharged yet another loud snort. He raised his eyes from the page and stared at the family before he continued:
I hereby issue a warrant for the arrest of Boll weevil Carter.
Turning to Fortune, whose face was stone cold, Justice Moody forced a thin smile.
I have concluded that Fortune Redmond is guilty of … neither murder nor robbery. Fortune Redmond, you are free to go. This case is dismissed.
Justice Moody struck the bench with one thunderous blow of the gavel. He rose and turned to face Lydia, Sarah and Enos. He nodded and left the courtroom by the back door.
No one stirred for several seconds. The onlookers were numb and bewildered. It was Fortune who first rose to his feet. Within minutes, the sheriff had removed Fortune’s irons and chains, and he hobbled to his mother, lifting her from the chair and hugging her passionately. Sarah watched, thinking that at any moment her heart would stop.
The Negroes outside stood stock-still when the magistrate’s carriage flew past them in a cloud of dust. A group of them immediately burst into the courtroom and, upon learning that Fortune was innocent, raised him to their shoulders.
Outside, the whites wandered about, restless and impatient, perplexed by the sudden departure of the magistrate. Their anger rode high on a wave of smugness. Their confidence in a favourable verdict — one that found the Negro guilty and that would put Negroes in their old place — showed in their faces and slid from their tongues. “This will teach them,” a rough-looking man shouted. “He’ll hang by nightfall and we’ll drink to that.” All were ready for a celebration but for the few who stood together off to the side of the road praying for sanity and compassion. The remaining Negroes waited patiently, barely uttering a sound. Fear was their master, striking them hard with a vicious sting. They wept, not just for Fortune, but also for themselves. They waited quietly, drowning in wild emotions and watching the rowdy crowd carefully, knowing it was a dangerous animal that could lash out at any second.
When Fortune came through the courthouse doors carried on the throne of shoulders, the Negroes stood transfixed for several seconds. Could this mean he was free, an innocent man? It didn’t take them long to figure it out, and when they did, they let loose and filled the air with rejoicing. Their laughing, singing and dancing in gratitude brought many to the ground. It was a spectacle that the residents of Port Roseway would remember for a very long time. For the Negroes, it was a happy, unforeseen ending to a very bad dream and a wonderful taste of justice in their new country.
For their part, the Redmonds glowed. They walked with their heads elevated, not superior but proud. The hostile comments and flying debris could not shake their confidence. When Enos finally managed to gather them up, they sat in the back of his cart like heroes, smiles stretching from ear to ear. Fortune threw his hat to the wind and let out a lifetime of restraint in shouts. Enos sat tall and stiff on his seat like the grand master of a parade, leading the throng of revellers back to Birchtown to continue the celebration.