and walked to her taillights, where she searched her purse and waited on the trooper.
Two plainsclothesmen approached from the blue lights.
"You drunk, ma'am?" one of them asked, spewing tobacco juice.
"No, sir. I'm trying to find my license."
She crouched before the taillights and fished for the
license. Suddenly, she was knocked to the ground. A heavy quilt was thrown over her and both men held her down. A rope was wrapped around her chest and waist. She kicked and cursed, but could offer little resistance. The quilt covered her head and trapped her arms underneath. They pulled the rope tightly.
"Be still, bitch! Be still!"
One of them removed her keys from the ignition and opened the trunk. They threw her inside and slammed it shut. The blue lights were unplugged in the old Lincoln and it roared away, trailed by the BMW. They found a gravel road and followed it deep into the woods. It turned into a dirt road that led to a small pasture where a large cross was being burned by a handful of Kluxers.
The two assailants quickly donned their robes and masks and removed her from the trunk. She was thrown to the ground and the quilt removed. They bound and gagged her, and dragged her to a large pole a few feet from the cross where she was tied, her back to the Kluxers, her face to the pole.
She saw the white robes and pointed hats, and tried desperately to spit out the oily, cotton rag crammed in her mouth. She managed only to gag and cough.
The flaming cross illuminated the small pasture, discharging a glowing wave of heat that began to roast her as she wrestled with the pole and emitted strange, guttural noises.
A hooded figure left the others and approached her. She could hear him walking and breathing. "You nigger-loving bitch," he said in a crisp Midwestern voice. He grabbed the rear of her collar and ripped the white silk blouse until it hung in shreds around her neck and shoulders. Her hands were tied firmly around the pole. He removed a bowie knife from under the robe, and began cutting the remainder of the blouse from her body. "You nigger-loving bitch. You nigger-loving bitch."
Ellen cursed him, but her words were muffled groans.
He unzipped the navy linen skirt on the right side. She tried to kick, but the heavy rope around her ankles held her feet to the pole. He placed the tip of the knife at the bottom of the zipper, and cut downward through the hem. He
grabbed around the waist and pulled it off like a magician. The Kluxers stepped forward.
He slapped her on the butt, and said, "Nice, very nice." He stepped back to admire his handiwork. She grunted and twisted but could not resist. The slip fell to mid-thigh. With great ceremony, he cut the straps, then sliced it neatly down the back. He yanked it off and threw it at the foot of the burning cross. He cut the bra straps and removed it. She jerked and the moans became louder. The silent semicircle inched forward and stopped ten feet away.
The fire was hot now. Her bare back and legs were covered with sweat. The light red hair was drenched around her neck and shoulders. He reached under his robe again and brought out a bullwhip. He popped it loudly near her and she flinched. He marched backward, carefully measur ing the distance to the pole.
He cocked the bullwhip and aimed at the bare back. The tallest one stepped forward with his back to her. He shook his head. Nothing was said, but the whip disappeared.
He walked to her and grabbed her head. With his knife, he cut her hair. He grabbed handfuls and hacked away until her scalp was gapped and ugly. It piled gently around her feet. She moaned and did not move.
They headed for their cars. A gallon of gasoline was splashed inside the BMW with Massachusetts tags and somebody threw a match.
When he was certain they were gone, Mickey Mouse slid from the bushes. He untied her and carried her to a small clearing away from the pasture. He gathered the remains of her clothing and tried to cover her. When her car finished burning beside the dirt road, he left her. He drove to Oxford, to a pay phone, and called the Lafayette County sheriff.
Saturday court was unusual but not unheard of, especially in capital cases where the jury was locked up. The participants didn't mind