The Justice Brigade

As the Rocky Mountain Stage Lines cruiser slowed into the down ramp off Interstate 90 to enter Superior, Montana, Edward Weeks was on his feet to retrieve his parcel of belongings from the overhead rack. The arrival in his hometown had taken only two hours from Spokane to the west but it had been a long journey since his release and parole from Walla Walla State Penitentiary in Washington. Edward had served only eight years of a fourteen-year sentence for imprisoning and molesting two little girls, aged eight and nine. The granting of a furlough to visit an elderly and seriously ailing mother in the small Montana lumbering town had been a difficult argument with his parole officer. As her only child, Edward managed to convince him of the need for compassion in allowing what could be a final visit to her, and the board officials agreed. With a grinding of gears, the creaking of suspension and applied brakes, the bus came to a stop at Marshall's Service and Travel Stop. As the door hissed closed behind him, Edward was the only passenger to step onto the pavement into the quiet of a clear mountain evening. He was thirsty for a soft drink and wanted a snack before walking to the hospital to see his mother. As he started toward the entrance, someone quietly called to him from the shadows beside the store where a car was parked. "Hey Eddie, over here!" called Mineral Sheriff Deputy Carl "Chub" Denton. "I see you finally made it back to our little town, and I'm sorry to hear that your mom isn't doing well." As he hesitantly walked closer, Edward could see the roof lights and black and white markings of the police cruiser. "Oh yeah, hi Chub! Well, I am only back for a couple of weeks, so this may be the last time I get to see her. I suppose my P.O. in Walla Walla had to call and tell you I was coming." "Right Eddie, would you mind sitting here in the car with me so that we can talk? I have a couple of things to go over with you. Right here, plenty of room in the back seat." Denton held the door open as he approached and Edward placed his parcel inside as he cautiously seated himself. "Sorry, Eddie, but department policy says that no one can bring things into the passenger compartment, so I will have to hang on to that little bag of yours while we chat." He removed the parcel as he spoke and casually tossed it into the front seat. Edward felt a chill and slightly shuddered as the deputy closed the door behind him. Speaking now from the front seat through the steel mesh that separated the front from the rear compartments, Denton continued, "Well, we have a minor matter to clear up that may briefly delay your visit but shouldn't be much of a problem to you. Of course, you remember my investigation of that little girl who was killed here Part I: Knock On Stone Chapter 1 The Return of Eddie Weeks about nine years ago? You know, the seven-year-old who was raped, beaten and left to decompose out near Haugen. She is the one I asked you so many questions about, but we never were able to conclude that case. It was just a simple lack of good evidence." "Yes, I remember you grinding me away on that one, but I did nothing to that kid, and you had no proof I did. So what's the problem now?" "Well, Eddie, no real problem, but I have been asked to arrange transport for you over to Scribner to look at some evidence the State Crime Lab has stored there to see if you can give us some help on it. A couple of state detectives will probably want to talk to you. It won't take much time at all, and we will bring you right back here early as tomorrow. Hate like hell to interrupt this visit, but you know how it is with unsolved crimes; they just never seem to go away." "Hey look, Chub, this isn't the right time for me to be doing anything with you guys when my mom might pass on at any moment. For shit’s sake, don't you have any care that my mom is dying here? Can't you wait on this for a couple of days until I have at least seen her and given her some comfort? Goddamn it, you guys haunt someone like a bunch of stinkin’ vultures!" By now the deputy had the cruiser moving toward the entrance ramp to Interstate 90 heading eastward. "Sorry, guy. This is out of my hands and I just have to go along with the program. Make yourself comfortable and we will get you taken care of as soon as possible." With that, Denton picked up the cruiser's radio microphone and keyed it for a call to his dispatcher. "Hello Mary, patch me over to State Patrol please." Within a minute after a muffled acknowledgement, a clear male voice responded over the speaker. "Hello Chub, Mike here. What do you need buddy?" "Hey Mike, that was quick. What's your ten-twenty? I have a special Jim Bridger request for you tonight. Can you meet me outside of Scribner? "Sure Chub. I am already westbound on 90 out of Alberton, and if you are leaving town, how about meeting me at the rest stop?" "Ten-four buddy, about ten minutes. See you there." As the darkness closed along the highway, Edward leaned back in the hard, black vinyl seat to ease the tension gripping his entire body, but there was no relief. He was a prisoner again and this one had a foul and terrifying feel to it, a fear worse Part I: Knock On Stone Chapter 1 The Return of Eddie Weeks than he had ever known. This time no one but he and Deputy Denton was aware of where he was or where he was going. The old Montana Territorial Prison, built in 1869, stands as tall and ominous as a red granite cliff in the center of the town of Scribner, Van Blaricom County, Montana. In its years of service to law and order, it had earned a nation-wide reputation for harshness, discomfort and stone-hard lock-down from which there was no escape. It is now a state historical landmark and remains partially in penal service as the Van Blaricom County jail. The territorial prison, having seen Montana grow from a wild and struggling territory into modern statehood, outgrew its capacity in mid-life but remained the principal detention facility for hardened criminals until a new maximum security prison was completed. In 1979, the old prison was given to tiny, rural Van Blaricom County, and Sheriff Tom Davis began the conversion of its main cellblocks into a jail that would be large enough to serve the county's needs for possibly the next century. As budgeting permitted, he was able to rent jail space in the renovated premises to other counties whose facilities were over-crowed, and thereby return a measure of profit to the Van Blaricom County coffers. The practice has been successfully continued over the years, earning Van Blaricom County high visibility and prestige among law enforcement officials throughout the state. In carrying out the many renovations begun by Davis, the county also adopted plans for the future use of part of the prison as a museum. Succeeding sheriffs were meagerly budgeted to build a secured, segregated area for that purpose, but no completion date was prescribed. Initial construction efforts managed to close off such a facility within the walls, featuring a separate entrance that would house the maintenance staff, janitors and workshops until it could be converted into a museum. The modified facility provided the only access to the basement of the old prison known as "The Dungeon,” an area of some 60 "holes" or isolation cells, which was once used to contain and punish the most violent prisoners. Each was cased with sheet steel covering solid stone walls, six feet wide by six feet high by eight feet deep.