TEARS OF RAGE

Chapter 18

In the scope of most high-profile crimes, the first step that an investigator tries to set in motion is to identify the players involved.

Who stands to reap a potential reward, or benefit from the crime.

The formula for success is based upon the clues, that criminals leave at the crime scene.

Once FBI investigators were able to secure Pluto's identity, the hunt for his accomplices became a matter of isolating and identifying all of his known acquaintances.

When the clues left at the crime scene identified Pluto's identity, Johnny Parson popped up from his fingerprints.

It was only a matter of pulling up his juvenile record and his last known address, which was also Shonda Williams' grandmother.

According to the information, gathered from his criminal record, he had been released to the custody of Geraldine Parson, three weeks prior.

In less than an hour after learning his identity, Special Agents Anthony Price and Carl Wainwright had secured a search warrant.

Special tactics and extraction team were en route to the location, as the sun rose over the noon hour traffic.

When the hand of tragedy touches a person's family, no one feels its grip the same as those closest to the victim.

Once the FBI began their family notifications, for the victims slain in the bank robbery, they located Paula Parson-Williams; working as an office manager at the Goizueta Business School, on the campus of Emory University.

She was dressed in a pants suit, with a silk scarf wrapped about her neck.

Her hair was dyed an auburn color with golden highlights.

She had the appearance of a woman in control of her environment.

Strong. Intelligent. Efficient.

Her mocha-colored complexion darkened when she heard them mention her daughter.

Shonda was a good girl...

"Good afternoon Mrs. Williams, my name is Special Agent Robert Rainwater, and this is my partner Bruce Causey."

"Okay. What can I do for you agent?"

There was a note of trepidation in her voice when she spoke.

It was the curt response of a mother, accustomed to a son who chose to live the life of an outlaw.

Cops were bound to pull up, asking questions about him...

"Is there someplace that we can speak to you in private?"

Her gaze ping-ponged between them, before deciding to lead them to the faculty break room.

After being informed of Shonda's death, she fainted.

The world around her dissolved into a state of suspended disorientation.

The ground lost its pull of gravity.

Everything was floating past like fish in an ocean...

University leaders insisted that she be checked by a hospital physician.

In the wave of events that led to being stranded at Emory hospital, Paula needed someone to drive over and pick her up.

She was in no position to drive.

Too devastated by the news of her daughter's death to cope with driving, Paula did what she had done most of her life when a problem overwhelmed her...

She called her mother.

As the midday sun casts a radiant gleam of sunshine across the city, a collection of local hustlers were huddled near the Rid Shack; shooting dice.

There was over fifteen thousand in cash piled within the half-circle crescent where the gamblers were gathered.

Geraldine Parson lived a block away from the corner, where the Rid Shack was located.

As the ripple of voices spread about the group, with several guys casting side bets, the familiar growl of engine acceleration captured everyone's attention.

Within a world where people we're surrounded by chaos and corruption, the sudden sound of engine acceleration meant one, or two things...

Cops were raiding the block, or robbers were about to pounce.

Either way, there was no time to procrastinate.

"Roscoe!" someone called out.

The group of gamblers dispersed, like roaches, when the lights come on.

Approaching from the east of Bates Street, a procession of six unmarked vehicles sped onto South Howard Street.

Immediate pandemonium erupted as several guys began to scramble, grabbing cash and making a hasty break to their cars.

No one wanted to wait, and see if they were a target of some random police sweep.

By the time it became clear that they were headed to another location, it was too late to control the stampede.

"Hold up!" Tony Bradshaw cried out, trying to restore order and get them back to gambling.

He had lost over four thousand, in less than an hour, and watching everyone leave had him frustrated.

"They aren't coming this way!"

Even as he said it, he knew that it was too late.

"I can't believe this," he muttered before walking to his car.

As the procession of vehicles sped onto South Howard Street, Geraldine Parson was uttering those same words.

"I can't believe this," she cried out, upon hearing her daughter explain how Shonda had been murdered.

"Just stay there," she stated, grabbing her purse and car keys.

"I'm on my way..."