Jesse informed the lawyer that he would push hard for the maximum sentence and there would be no plea deal. Drugs were pouring in from South America, everyone was alarmed. Harsh laws were being passed. Tough action was needed to protect society.
Stofer was twenty-seven years old, single, and couldn’t fathom the idea of spending the next three decades locked away. He had already served three years in Louisiana for stealing cars and preferred life on the outside. For a month he sat and waited in a hot jail cell for some movement in his case. The traffickers in New Orleans paid for a lawyer who did little except warn him to keep his mouth shut or else. Another month passed and he remained silent.
He was surprised one day when he was handcuffed and taken back to the small, cramped room where the lawyers came to visit. His lawyer wasn’t there but the district attorney was. They had glared at each other briefly in court during the preliminary hearing.
Jesse said, “Got a few minutes?”
“I guess. Where’s my lawyer?”
“I don’t know. Cigarette?”
“No thanks.”
Jesse lit one and seemed in no hurry. “The grand jury meets tomorrow and you’ll be indicted for all those charges we discussed in court.”
“Yes sir.”
“You can either plead guilty or go to trial, doesn’t really matter, because you’ll get thirty years anyway.”
“Yes sir.”
“You ever met anyone who’s served time in Parchman prison?”
“Yes sir. Met a guy in Angola who served time there.”
“I’m sure he was happy to be out of there.”
“Yes sir. Said it’s the worst place in the country.”
“I can’t imagine spending thirty years there, can you?”
“Look, Mr. Rudy, if you’re thinking about offering me some kind of deal where you’ll knock off a few years if I squeal on my colleagues, then the answer is no. I don’t care where you send me, they’ll have my throat cut within two years. I know them. You don’t.”
“Not at all. I’m thinking about a different gang. And a different deal that involves no time behind bars. Zero. You walk out, never look back.”
Stofer studied his feet, then frowned at Jesse. “Okay, I’m thoroughly confused.”
“You drive through Biloxi often?”
“Yes sir. It’s been my route.”
“Ever stop at the nightclubs?”
“Sure. Cold beer, plenty of girls.”
“Well, the clubs are operated by a gang of criminals. Ever hear of the Dixie Mafia?”
“Sure. There were stories about them in prison, but I don’t know much.”
“It’s sort of a loosely organized bunch of bad boys that began settling around here twenty years ago. With time, they took over the clubs and offered booze, gambling, girls, even drugs. And they’re still very much in business. Camille blew them all away but they came right back. Gangsters, thieves, pimps, crooks, arsonists, they even have their own hit men. Left behind a lot of dead bodies.”
“Where’s this going?”
“I want you to go to work for them.”
“Sounds like a great group.”
“As opposed to your drug traffickers?”
“With a criminal record, I have trouble finding work, Mr. Rudy. I’ve tried.”
“That’s no excuse for running drugs.”