—
AFTER SUCH A TROUBLING and rather unhappy life, Tot Whooten found it pleasant out at Still Meadows. As Tot told Ruby one night, “It’s so sad now to think how many of these beautiful nights I missed when I was alive. It’s just amazing to see all those thousands of little stars just twinkling away. I guess they were always there. Sometimes I’d watch the sun go down with Elner, but then I always went in and watched television until it was time to go to bed. But now I’m really enjoying seeing the night sky, listening to the owls, the frogs, and the crickets. That’s what I should have done more of, instead of looking at TV. Every damn night, but I was hooked on watching Dynasty and Big Valley with Barbara Stanwyck. I always admired her. She looked like she’d just as soon shoot you as look at you. She was my kind of woman.”
Lester Shingle, who made it a habit to listen in on his main suspect’s conversations, took special note of that last remark. Tot definitely had a violent streak.
2011
Luther Griggs was driving his eighteen-wheeler and daydreaming about hitting the lottery. He had ten tickets in his pocket right now. His dream was to hit it big and buy one of those long, luxurious silver and brown recreational vehicles. And it wasn’t a vague dream. He knew the exact model and make. He wanted the Bounder, with all the accessories, the slide-outs, the extra-wide “He-Man” shower, and the awnings outside.
He would quit his job, and he and Bobby Jo would drive it all over America, from one RV park to the next, living the high life. He had read about the Flying Flags RV Park in Buellton, California, that had a pool, a restaurant, bingo every Friday night, and live music and a barbeque on Saturday. What else could you want?
—
THERE WAS A LIGHT rain falling when he saw the car in his side-view mirror come up behind him. It was a sweet-looking red 1970 Plymouth Duster. He let her pass him, so he could get a good look at it. The lady driving it waved, and he waved back. Yeah, it was a ’70, all right. She or her husband had taken really good care of it. It still had its original paint and wheels.
It had been raining off and on for about six hours, and as much as he wanted to get home, he held his speed limit to 55. There were so many oil refineries down here in this part of Louisiana, and this stretch of the interstate could get particularly slickedy in the rain.
He was still behind the red Plymouth Duster, and a few miles up ahead, just as she was coming up to a bridge, an armadillo stepped onto the road right in front of her, and when it did, she did the worst thing she could do. She swerved to try to avoid hitting it, and she swerved too fast. Luther saw her start to lose control, spin sideways, then hit the concrete embankment, and skid down the hill and right into the river. “Oh, man,” said Luther. He looked behind him, but no one else was on the road, and nobody was coming the other way, so he slowed down as fast as he could without jackknifing and pulled his truck off to the side of the road. When he had come to a full stop, he grabbed the big heavy wrench he kept in the front seat for protection, jumped out, and ran toward the bridge as fast as he could.
When he got there, he looked down into the river and saw the red car still barely afloat, bobbing up and down in the water, sinking fast. Thankfully, the car was still pretty close to the bank, so he slid the twenty or so feet down the riverbank and into the water. He then waded alongside the car and jumped in a few feet in front of it and managed to grab ahold of the door handle as the car floated by, twisting and turning.
Just as he feared, she had all the windows rolled up, and he could see the lady inside was panicked and struggling to get out of her seatbelt. He had to fight hard to get it undone, because it was under water now, but after about ten tries, he was finally able to smash in the front window, reach in, and release the safety belt. Then with great effort, he got the door to open. He pulled the lady out of the car and pushed her upward as hard as he could. The last thing he saw were her two stocking feet swishing back and forth, headed up toward the surface. Thank God.
Then as he and the car sank farther down toward the bottom, something suddenly occurred to Luther. “Oh, shit…I forgot. I don’t know how to swim.”
When he was five, his daddy had thrown him into the lake, and he had almost drowned. He had been deathly afraid of water ever since.
LUTHER GRIGGS
1964–2011
No greater love hath man
than to lay down his life for another
When Ruby’s husband, John Robinson, arrived at Still Meadows and was chatting with Elner, he said to her, “Did Luther tell you how he got here?”
“He just said it had been an accident.”
“What?” Then John called out, “Luther Griggs, why didn’t you tell Elner and everybody how you drowned saving a woman’s life?”
Luther mumbled, “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’m kinda embarrassed I didn’t know how to swim.”
“Well, Luther, you don’t have a thing to be embarrassed about. You are a genuine hero. That lady you saved was the mother of three children,” said John. “Imagine that. He jumped in a river to save a complete stranger.”
After Elner had heard the entire story, she said, “Well, I’m not the least bit surprised. I always knew Luther was a good boy, didn’t I, honey?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s what you always said.”
—
THE LADY LUTHER HAD saved did not forget it. She and her husband and children had driven to Elmwood Springs for his funeral. Her youngest girl, who had just turned six, even wrote him a letter and placed it on his grave.
Dear Mr. Griggs,
Thank you for saving my mommy. She is nice and is glad, too. I am sorry you got drownded.
Love,
Tracy