The funeral of Billy Stonehurst took place on a clear spring morning amid blossoms, birdsong, and rebirth, when no young man should be laid to rest. A choir sang, and handshakes and sympathy were offered to the grieving parents. Afterward, drinks and a buffet were served at a hall in South Portland, not far from the cemetery. During the reception, Bobby Ocean’s wife slapped her husband repeatedly on the face. She subsequently departed, and did not return.
Two weeks later, Bobby Ocean commenced his retirement from business, and initiated the sale of his companies. Two weeks after that, he and his wife announced their separation. By then, Bobby Ocean was already in the process of establishing, in memory of his son, the William Stonehurst Foundation for American Ideas, which would quickly ally itself with the American Freedom Party, American Renaissance, the Council of Conservative Citizens, and the National Policy Institute, among other white-power organizations.
Bobby Ocean had become pure hatred.
PARKER RAN INTO GORDON Walsh after a movie at the Nickelodeon. Walsh was with a woman Parker didn’t recognize, and he was no longer wearing a wedding ring. Walsh introduced the woman as Jessica, but offered no further details. He and Parker stood outside the theater while Jessica went to the bathroom. It was the first time the two men had spoken properly since Parker’s brief confinement in Augusta.
“I wanted to apologize for calling you a son of a bitch,” said Walsh. “I mean, you are a son of a bitch occasionally, but I wouldn’t like to think it defined you.”
“You should market that as a greeting card.”
“I have others. I’ll just add it to the pile.”
“You see that thing about Bobby Ocean?” said Parker.
“The far-right business? Yeah. No surprise, but still.”
“Not good.”
“No,” said Walsh. He sniffed at the night air. “You smell that?”
Jessica appeared beside Walsh.
“Smell what?” said Parker.
Walsh laid his left hand on Parker’s shoulder, and used his right to point in the direction of Commercial, and the waterfront, and a parking lot still slightly blackened by fire.
“A hint of smoke,” said Walsh. “You shouldn’t have let Louis burn that truck.”
It took Parker a few moments to respond.
“You’re right,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“I shouldn’t have left it to a black man to call out a racist. I should have done it myself.”