Ironically, the image brought a smile to Holmes’s shrouded face. As a child, he had witnessed a similar scene, a cross being burned in his family’s front yard, and it had evoked a far different reaction. It had terrified him. The bright glow of the smoldering wood. The sharp stench of smoke. The dancing specters in white hoods and sheets. The racial taunts, the threats of violence, the fear in his father’s eyes. All of it had left an indelible mark on his young psyche, a scar that had remained for years. Now things were different. He was no longer a scared boy, cowering with his family, seeking strength and protection. Now the roles were reversed. He built the cross. He lit the flame. And he controlled the guest list.
Finally, a chance to exorcise some of his personal demons.
Over the roar of the blaze, he continued his commands. “Bring the prisoners into formation!”
A small battalion of men, dressed in long black cloaks and armed with semiautomatic handguns, burst into the cramped huts and dragged the blindfolded captives toward the light of the flames. One by one, the confused prisoners were placed into a prearranged pattern—three lines of six people—and ordered to stand at attention while facing the cross. When the leader of the guards was finally happy with the setup, he let his superior know. “We’re ready, sir.”
“Good,” Holmes replied as he settled into his black saddle. “Drop your hoods!”
In unison, the entire team of guards covered their faces with the thick black hoods that hung loosely from the back of their cloaks. When they were done, they looked like Klans men in black robes. Their eyes were all that remained uncovered, and they burned like glowing embers in the Louisiana night.
“It’s time to show them our power!”
With sharp blades in hand, the guards charged toward the prisoners and swiftly cut small holes in the white cotton bags that had been draped over the heads of the captives.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Holmes barked as he trotted his stallion to the front of his guests. “Welcome to the Plantation.”
He paused dramatically for several seconds before continuing his monologue. “I’m sure each of you would like to see your new surroundings, but there is something blocking your sight. It is called duct tape, and it will be quite painful when you pull it off. . . . Don’t worry. Your eyebrows will eventually grow back.” Holmes laughed quietly. “I realize that your hands are currently bound, but I’m quite confident you’ll be able to remove the tape without our assistance.”
Slowly and painfully, the prisoners removed the adhesive strips from their faces, tearing flesh and hair as they did. Then, once their eyes had adjusted to the light from the intense fire, they glanced from side to side, trying to observe as much as they could. The sudden realization that each person was a part of a large group gave some captives comfort and others anxiety.
“Impressive!” Holmes shouted in mock admiration. “I’m quite pleased with the guts of this group. Normally my prisoners are weeping and praying to me for mercy, but not you guys. No, you are too strong for that.” He clapped sarcastically, slamming the palms of his black leather gloves together. “Now that you’ve dazzled me with your inner strength, it’s time for me to show you how weak you really are. While you are guests on my plantation, there are strict rules that you must follow. Failure to follow any of them will result in severe and immediate punishment. Do I make myself clear?”
The prisoners remained quiet, too scared to speak.
“My God! I must be going deaf! Why? Because I didn’t hear a goddamned word from any of you.” He rode his horse between the lines of prisoners. “Let’s try this again, but this time I want you to scream, Yes, Master Holmes!” He glared at the captives. “Are you ready? Failure to follow my rules will result in severe and immediate punishment. Do I make myself clear?”
Fewer than half of them answered. An act of disobedience that pissed off Holmes.
“Yesterday you had the right to do what you wanted, say what you wanted, think what you wanted. But all of that is gone now. Your freedom has faded into the air, like smoke from this burning cross.” The prisoners glanced at the clouds of ash that slowly rose into the darkness. “You are no longer members of a free society. You are now possessions.