Part 3 — Bo Kept The Papers
The last line on the back of the paper said, The papers he wanted me to sign are hidden in Bos collar. I read it out loud in a hall full of shrimpers, and every head turned toward the parking lot.
Bo was in the bed of Russells truck, tied to the tailgate with a short rope, where he had been for two weeks. The deputy and I walked out together with Dads two old crewmen behind us. Bo saw me and thumped his tail on the metal so hard the whole truck shook.
The collar was an old leather strap Dad had restitched himself, with a thick fold along the buckle. I ran my thumb down it and felt paper. The deputy photographed it, then let me cut the stitching with a pocketknife, and out slid three folded sheets in a sandwich bag.
They were loan papers. Russell had borrowed heavily from a lender in Savannah, and when he could not pay, the lender offered an out. If Dad signed over the boat and the dock, the debt would vanish. Dad refused, and wrote that refusal across the top of the page.
Below it, in Dads capitals, were the first names of the two men who came to the dock, the make of their truck, and the last four numbers of the plate. He trusted no one with the evidence but his dog.
The deputy took the papers and the lure box to the sheriff that night. By morning the state bureau had the plate, the names, and the marina cameras, which showed a white pickup on the Saturday before Dad was found.
The sheriff and the medical examiner came to see me and spoke plainly, nothing graphic. The two men had confronted Dad on the water that morning to make him sign, and in the struggle he went overboard. They left and made no call. My father did not simply fall, and he did not leave this world unnoticed, because his dog sat in that bow until help came.
The two men from Savannah were arrested within the week and charged with extortion and involuntary manslaughter. Their employer was investigated for illegal collection practices. The medical examiner amended the ruling from accidental drowning to death during a criminal confrontation.
Russell was charged with forgery and fraud, since signatures on earlier papers were his own hand copying Dads. He cried in the courtroom and said he never meant for anyone to be hurt. The judge said that was the trouble with debts like his.
He took a plea and testified against the lenders. The court ordered restitution on every dollar, and the buyer in Savannah, a decent man named Mr. Pickett, sold Dads boat back to me for exactly what he paid, plus a handshake.
Bo rode home with his head on my knee, and my wife made him shrimp and grits. The first Saturday after the sale, I put in at daybreak on the Coosaw with the same boat, the same thermos, and the same old dog in the bow. I raised my cup to the flat gold water and said, Morning, Dad.
