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honeyhan-123 · 4 years ago

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No Body, No Crime

Summary: Sheriff Bodecker just has a few questions about your husbands disappearance that he’d like to go over with you.

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, abuse of power, Lee is a sneaky devil, very brief (squint and you miss it) mention of an abusive household.

Word Count: 2.7k

AN: No one asked for it, but I’ve finally written some Lee for y’all. Hope you enjoy! Also, a massive thank you to the awesome @lilithhellfire who beta’d this for me, I really appreciate it!

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When you heard the knock on your door you never thought it would be the devil coming to call. But there he stood in all his pudgy glory. Sheriff Lee Bodecker.

You had seen the Sheriff a fair bit in the last few weeks, ever since your husband Trey had skipped town but he had always been accompanied by some deputy or other, and he had never called so late at night. He must know something.

Forgetting all formalities, you jumped right into the questioning. ‘So? What is it? What have you found?’ Your voice was panicked despite his call waking you up.

‘You’re not even gonna invite me in darlin’?’ His deep drawl cut through you and you realised he was right. You probably didn’t want to have this conversation out on your front doorstep where any of your neighbours could overhear. You stepped back and opened the door wider. ‘Please come in Sheriff.’

‘Darlin, I think we’re past that point in our relationship. Just call me Lee.’ You supposed he was right, you had been spending a lot of time down at the department recently. Still, the way he mentioned your relationship and how he kept calling you darling sent a chill through you. You weren’t his darling.

‘I don’t suppose I could get some coffee? Maybe even something sweet to eat too? I was up half the night last night and it looks like I’ll be up most of tonight too.’ His authoritative tone made it clear you didn’t really have a choice and so you left him in your little sitting room before flittering off to the kitchen.

Your mind was a blur as you methodically went through the actions of lighting the stove and grinding the coffee beans. You let the coffee stew as you grabbed the tin of freshly made brownies. They had been meant for the church picnic tomorrow morning but you didn’t think letting Lee have one or two would make that much of a difference.

You had a million questions and no answers. Why was the sheriff even here? What had he found? Or God forbid, had he found Trey? A shudder wrecked through you as you thought of the unthinkable only to be brought back by Lee’s hand on your shoulder.

‘You alright there darlin’? The coffee’s probably ready by now.’ You gulped and nodded jerkily as you stepped away from his lingering touch.

‘Sugar and cream?’ Your voice was nowhere near as strong as you wanted it to be and you knew the sheriff had heard the difference.

‘Plenty of both please.’ You doled out ample amounts into his cup and prepared your own as something to do, even though you already knew you couldn’t drink it.

The couch groaned under Lee’s weight and he patted the seat next to him, calling you over. You teetered on the edge of the faded cushion and forced a smile as his arm rested along the back of the couch.

‘You know darlin’, there’s been somethin’ about this case that just hasn’t sat right with me ever since it first came across my desk.’

You took a minute to respond, unsure if he was baiting you or just thinking out loud. ‘Oh? What is it?’

‘Well you see, it’s a little hard to explain, but when you’ve been on the job as long as I have you start to notice things. Little things that by themselves don’t matter much but when you look at the big picture, well, it becomes a whole lot clearer.’

‘Little things? Like what?’ Your heart was pounding in your chest, your meager dinner of chicken fillet and veggies threatening to come back up.

‘You know, just the odd thing here and there. Like how in the week before your husband went missing you made sure to tell anyone who would listen you were workin’ that Saturday. Or how even though you were at the diner from lunch till close you didn’t take a break. Not once in ten hours were you anywhere where someone couldn’t see you. You wanted to make sure you had an airtight alibi so when your husband was finally reported missing, we wouldn’t pin it on you.’

You felt the blood rush down from your head and there was a lump in your throat. ‘Wh-what are you… I don’t understand.’

‘Oh no darlin’ I think you do. I know that you and I both know that we can look for weeks and weeks and we’ll never find Trey alive will we? How’d you do it huh? Bludgeon him in his sleep? Or did ya put somethin’ in his coffee?’

‘I didn’t… I-I loved my husband. I didn’t do anything.’ You tried to stand from the couch but his arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you back down against his body.

‘C’mon darlin’ we both know that’s horse shit but I am feeling awfully generous right now.’ Confusion swept over you. What was he saying?

‘Generous?’

‘Yeah, very generous. I won’t turn you in but… well it is gonna cost you. Generosity doesn’t come free.’ His other hand brushed your dressing gown away from your thigh before resting on the bare skin just above your knee.

Realisation dawned on you and you tried to shove his hand away. You weren’t about to trade one monster for another. ‘I didn’t do anything and if you had even a morsel of proof I would’ve heard about it by now. In a town this small news travels fast.’

Lee let out a dark chuckle that sent a shiver through you. ‘Do you seriously think I need real proof? I can fake anythin’ I want and at the end of the day who’s gonna believe you, some little waitress over me, the man they elected Sheriff? You’re doomed either way darlin’ so why don’t you do yourself a favour and take off that dressing gown and let me see that body of yours before I lose my patience.’

You were all too well aware of the Sheriff’s darker side to go against his wishes. With a shaky breath you stood up, glad to not have his hands on you anymore, no matter how temporary their absence was. Your legs threatened to buckle as you fumbled with the knot. The heavy cotton finally fell away from your shoulders and into a pile on the floor.

‘C’mere darlin’. Let me see you.’ You settled yourself in between the sheriff’s legs and his hands quickly grasped your hips, bunching the satin nighty. ‘Well, isn’t that a little unexpected treat.’ He paused to admire you, his cerulean blue eyes raking up and down your body before he spoke again. ‘Take it off.’

You shut your eyes and grasped the edge of the satin, pulling it over your head in one swoop. ‘Oh yeah. That’s much better.’ His hands grasped your tits, groping the flesh greedily. An image of your husband flashed through your mind and you cursed his name. Even in death he was still screwing you over.

Lee’s hand dipping down to the apex of your thighs had your eyes snapping wide open. Regret of not wearing panties to bed filled you as his fingers did too. They explored your walls, scissoring this way and that. They teased your slick from your unwilling body and you shuddered, disgusted at the effect he had on you.

His thumb found your clit and started rubbing smooth circles around the little bud. Your knees began to shake as the squelch of your juices filled the room. Your arms involuntarily reached out to grasp his shoulders as he continued to toy with you. A devilish smirk came over him and he wetted his lips before attaching them to one of your pert nipples.

A gasp fell from your lips as he suckled on the tender flesh in time with his thick fingers. Before you even had time to recognise it for what it was your orgasm washed over you. Your body shook as pleasure made its way through your veins and you could only just feel Lee’s arm circle around your waist holding you up.

When you recovered, you watched as Lee withdrew his hand from you and held it up so you could see it glistening. ‘Look at that darlin’. This pussy already knows who it belongs to now don’t it?’ You bit back a snarky response as he licked his fingers clean, his eyes remaining on yours the entire time.

‘Now c’mere. I didn’t come all the way over here just to get you off.’ His hands dipped down to where his belt was partially hidden by his overflowing stomach. He fumbled with the belt before pulling his pants and underpants down a couple inches. Just enough for his cock to pop out.

You tried not to stare but it was hard not to. He was easily bigger than Trey’s pathetic excuse of one had been, plus this one was flushed, with little drops of cream oozing from the tip.

‘Well c’mon darlin’ don’t just stare at it. I’m sure you know what to do.’ His arms stretched out along the back of the couch calling you forward.

‘No. I- I can’t. You can’t make me do this. Please don’t.’ You tried taking a step back only to be stopped by Lee’s darkening glare.

‘I can make you do whatever the fuck I want.’ Lee spat at you, his glare turning positively hostile. ‘I’m in a pretty good mood right now so I’ll give you five seconds to get that cunt over here before I’ll show you my bad side. Five… Four…’ You blinked back your tears as you approached him, straddling one leg on either side of his thick thighs. ‘That’s a smart choice you just made darlin’.’

You refused to look at him as you gripped his aching cock and lined it up with your entrance. With one small sigh of resignation you sunk down onto him. The stretch was worse than you had thought and you could already tell you were going to be sore tomorrow. ‘Fuck, darlin’. God… this cunt… fuck me.’ Lee was already breathless as you began to ride him. His arms fell to your hips, pulling you in even closer. His soft belly rubbed against you with every lift of your hips and his shirt buttons which seemed to be clinging on for dear life scratched along your chest.

You weren’t afraid to let your fingernails dig into his shoulders. A sadistic part of you wanted to draw his blood as though that made up for what he was forcing you to do. You gritted your teeth as his lips found your nipples once more, leaving a scatter of love bites on your skin as he went.

You tried to hold in your moans of pleasure as he brushed against your g-spot but a stuttering of your hips gave you away. ‘Oh you like that? Right there?’ Lee’s hips flexed up to meet yours, hitting his mark.

You made sure to look into his eyes as you responded, ignoring the pleasure he was causing. ‘I don’t like any of this.’ Lee’s eyes narrowed at you and his jaw clenched. His hand briefly left your hip and you felt the rush of air before it landed on your ass with a smack. His other came up to clutch your chin roughly.

‘Don’t you lie to me darlin’. I know you like this. I know you do. And do ya wanna know how I know?’ His hand squeezed its way between your bodies, coming to your clit. ‘I know because this little cunt is squeezing me so fuckin’ tight. It’s tryin to milk me dry because that’s what all you women want. You just want a man’s cum in ya. You just want to be owned. And don’t bother trying to deny it because your body can’t lie to me.’ He gave your jaw one last squeeze before settling his hand back on your hip and rocked your body against his.

As much as his words had disgusted you, they had also turned you on and you could feel yourself getting impossibly close to the edge. Lee’s hand clawed at the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a dominating kiss. His tongue easily forced its way between your lips and he demonstrated his ownership over your body as you kissed him back. His kiss was harsh and needy, all teeth and tongue. You could barely breathe as you felt your toes curl. Your subsequent moans were swallowed by Lee and he planted his feet firmly to help thrust up into you.

‘God, that pussy is just squeezing me dry. Fuck, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.’ His voice was husky as his lips found their way to your shoulder. You could feel him swell inside you, his body tensing against yours.

You didn’t have time to tell him to pull out before he was yanking you as far down his shaft that he could. You could feel spurt after spurt of his warm seed fill your cunt as he let out a sinful moan. His lips found yours once more as his hips rocked slowly against yours, making sure you got every drop he had to give.

When his hands at last disappeared from your body you opened your eyes. You were startled by how flushed he looked, his cheeks well passed being called ‘rosy’ and his breath was heavily laboured. He had a lazy smirk as he openly objectified your body, his arms once again resting along the back of the couch. His pink tongue swiping across his plump lips pulled you from your observation and you hastily stood up.

You wanted this man out of your house now.

You had satisfied him and done what he had wanted. Surely he would leave you alone now. You dressed on shaking legs and made sure to tie your robe extra tight. Even though he had already seen you naked, you didn’t want him seeing anything ever again.

You stood as far away from him as possible as he pulled his pants back up and popped his sheriff hat back on. His hand strayed to the tin of brownies you had pulled out earlier as he crossed the coffee table towards you and the door. You watched as he popped the entire thing into his mouth and a little groan came from his throat.

‘Well, these are quite the treat aren’t they?’ You hated the smirk he sent your way but you nodded just the same.

‘It’s a family recipe.’

‘I’m sure you’re excellent in the kitchen, though, I doubt you’re as good as you are in the sack.’ Your jaw clenched tightly and you ignored his last comment.

‘My mother taught me a lot.’ Lee nodded as though in deep understanding and you opened the door, eager for him to leave your house forever. He stepped out onto your stoop and turned back to face you.

‘Well, I sure do look forward to seeing everything else she taught you.’

‘What- What do you mean?’ Dread turned your blood to ice in your veins.

‘You didn’t think that this was a one time thing did ya? You committed first degree murder darlin’. You’re gonna have to pay up a lot more to get out of a charge like that.’

‘But- But you said it was the once.’

‘I said no such thing. It’s not my fault you didn’t ask for the terms. If you wanna remain a free woman, you’re gonna do what I say and continue letting me pay you night time visits ya hear? I’d hate for any damning evidence to come to light…’ Lee let his sentence hang in the air and you very nearly considered telling him he could go fuck off, but then you remembered the reason you were in this mess in the first place. Prison was only marginally better than an abusive household for the little bundle of cells inside you to grow.

‘See ya soon darlin’.’ Lee racked his eyes down your body one last time before tipping his hat to you. You stood in the doorway, watching as he climbed into the cruiser and drove off down your street.

You could do nothing but pray you hadn’t just traded one monster for an even worse one.

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Thanks for reading!

#lee bodecker #the devil all the time #tdatt #lee bodecker x reader #dark!lee bodecker #non con

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ijustwant2write · 5 years ago

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Hold On Tight-Tommy Shelby x Sister!Reader

(GIF credit @hardytcm)

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight

Requested by anonymous: 'Hiya love, could yo do an imagine where the reader is a Shelby sister and is closest to Tommy, like best friends and they go do some business together one day and she dies? But like grace’s death where she’s in his arms and he’s obviously really sad but she’s trying to be positive about it. ❤️'

Characters: Thomas Shelby X Reader (siblings), Arthur Shelby x Reader (siblings), John Shelby x Reader (siblings)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, guns, violence, injuries/wounds, death

(A/N: This is before John's or Grace's deaths)

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Morning boys." I greeted as my three older brothers walked in.

"Alright (Y/N)." Arthur nodded, hugging me briefly before making his way to the kitchen.

John copied his actions, catching up with him as Tommy entered, hugging me that bit longer.

"You sure you want me coming with you today?" I asked him as we pulled apart.

"I'm sure. You're the one that's been researching this guy for us, you're the best person to come along."

"Flattery doesn't get you anywhere Tommy. It's not like I'm going to object. Are you wanting to leave now?"

"Not just yet. We need to go over the plan again."

"Again? Tommy-"

He raised his hand, pointing at me."We always go over the plan-"

"Three times." we said in unison.

"Right." he nodded and went to the kitchen, me shaking my head behind him.

John and Arthur had already made themselves comfortable at the table, helping themselves to the freshly boiled teapot. As I walked past John, I smacked his legs that were resting on top of my table. He flinched, almost falling off his chair as he protested, rubbing where I hit him.

"Do you forget manners everytime you step into a civilised house?" I scolded playfully.

"Civilised house? Since when have you or anyone in the family been civilised?" he chuckled.

"Well, just don't put your grubby shoes on my clean table. My house, my rules."

"Alright mum."

I only rolled my eyes at him. John and I were only a year apart, I remember all the times we bickered as children, though there was definitely a love hate relationship. I always tried to act my age unless he was around, then it all went out the window. The boys were much older than us, and didn't always want to play; seeing as we were the closest in age, we compromised on our games, but I grew up with three brothers, they were bound to be tough. It built character (as they say), though it was only after the war that I became closer to Tommy.

Arthur had always been the best big brother, always looking after and defending me. As did John and Tommy, though Arthur could sometimes have a more authoritive look about him, more intimidating. I had always looked up to him. But Tommy and I never talked much, or played games with each other. He didn't even hug me much either. I saw my three brothers be sent off to war, and like all the men that left, they came back different. And Tommy coped with it in an extremely unhealthy way.

All those nights he had nightmares, he didn't have to be screaming in his sleep or crying, I just felt that something was wrong. A weird sense of dread would fill me before going to sleep, and it would wake me up, forcing me to go check on Tommy. He would rarely talk about it, but I stayed strong beside him, refusing to leave until he fell asleep again. Of course there were the drugs, and although I tried desperately to make him stop, he never did. However, I was there on the other side. It sort of happened naturally, our relationship. Maybe it came with age, maybe he acknowledged my help. Tommy was closest to me in my opinion, and I supported him with a majority of what he did (unless he used the family, that's where I crossed the line).

"I still don't know how I feel about this Tom." Arthur said.

"If you're talking about me, which you do every time we do something like this, then you need to get over it." I gently replied as I sat beside Tommy.

"You're my little sister, (Y/N), you shouldn't be here."

He wasn't being mean. He was just concerned. I smiled at him.

"Arthur, I've been through this a million times, with and without you guys. I'll be fine, we all will."

"Just get that feeling in me stomach-"

"That's enough Arthur." Tommy interrupted, lighting up a cigarrette. We waited for him to take a drag, exhaling the smoke before he spoke."We go through the backstreets, to their storage house for their booze. That's where we said we would meet. He has his men, we have ours. Now this is strictly business, no fucking threats, no fucking fighting, no fucking shooting. Understood?"

"I still think it's too dangerous for (Y/N) to come along." Arthur added.

"She's the one that's been getting the information for us. For some reason her tactics have worked better than ours."

"Oi!" I protested.

"That wasn't meant to offend."

"I've helped plenty of times before. Believe me Arthur, I've been behind the scenes of a lot of your operations."

"You've been around Tom too long, starting to speak like him too." Arthur smirked as he sipped his tea.

I ignored him."How many of your men will be there? Our dealer usually has ten with him at all times. He's agreed to not have anymore."

"Then we'll bring fifteen, ten with us and five to hide."

"You don't trust him."

"Any man who takes ten men as protection at all times is paranoid, meaning he'll also have some hidden away."

"So much for no shoot outs." John mumbled.

"Better safe than sorry." I snapped.

"Alright." Tommy warned."We're there to make a deal, and we'll leave with one."

We climbed into Tommy's car, silent as he drove to the meeting place. As we parked up our men were already waiting, watching as us Shelby's got out and walked ahead of them.

"So you listened to me then?" I quietly said to Tommy.

"What?"

"Finn's not here, that means you listened to me."

"Yes, I suppose you were right." he smirked.

"Good, he's still too young for all this."

"Now you sound like Polly."

I always felt nervous about these things. It never got any easier for me. Of course I didn't let it show on my face, and it always shocked these men to see a woman turn up. A slight advantage sometimes, they couldn't comprehend that a woman actually had a brain.

"How's Grace?"

"You want to talk about Grace, right now?"

"Yes, why not?"

He scoffed a laugh."Nothing stops you from getting into my private life."

"It's been a while since someone has been interested in you. And you're interested in her."

"I have never said that."

"There's no need to. It's obvious."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"(Y/N), we sound like children."

I laughed it off, sticking my hands in my coat pockets as the warehouse came into sight. There were two men guarding the doors, holding their guns. We didn't falter, approaching them with confidence. I thought they would search us, but instead, one of them disappeared inside, returning a few moments later, and nodding to the other guy.

"You can go in." he said, opening the door wider.

They stayed put as we all entered, following us from behind and closing the door. As expected, our dealsman was stood there with his ten men. I knew our lot were already trying to seek out anyone hidden away, they had been warned.

"Mr Vallier." Tommy started.

"Mr Shelby." He replied."Not like you to have this many men about for a business proposition."

"And you know how many men I have?"

Vallier ignored that question."Ah, I assumed your sister would come along. I've heard some remarkable things about her."

"The sister is present, you may address her." I interrupted.

"My apologies Miss Shelby. I've heard you commit acts that no other lady has ever done before. I must say, I am impressed."

"Thank you. You flatter me Mr Vallier."

He chuckled."So, Mr Shelby, shall we begin?"

It really was a simple trading agreement. Vallier was making some of the best gin in the country, though it hadn't become famous yet. He was a powerful man, built himself up from the ground; he ran his own gang, like us, knew that alcohol was a good selling point. Tommy saw an opportunity. Get him on our side, and we have another piece of territory as well as more money flowing in. It all seemed fairly simple, Vallier was just paranoid as we expected. This was the easiest meeting we had been to, and it made me nervous. However, that feeling started to drain away as we finished. There was more of a sense of feeling left out as I didn't get to say much.

Tommy and Vallier shook hands once we were outside the warehouse, both looking somewhat smug.

"Garrison?" John leaned over to me.

"Garrison." I nodded, smiling as he swung his arm over my shoulder.

Our lot began walking away, another deal was done. It was all calm and relieved until one of Vallier's boys started shouting, blocking our path.

"YOU KILLED MY BROTHER! HE NEVER DID ANYTHING BAD IN HIS LIFE!" He screamed, aiming his gun at Tommy.

"Don't shoot!" Tommy instructed.

John held me behind him."What the fuck is he planning now?"

"Sam, get inside!" Vallier yelled.

"I'm sorry sir, but these devil's had no right killing my brother, he wasn't even involved in any business!" the boy's aim never faltered.

Before anyone could figure out what to do, someone shot their gun, but it wasn't from the boy. We all ducked, running for cover as more bullets were fired. It was an ambush, there were hidden shooters, but they weren't working for Vallier. This boy wanted revenge. I knew this was all too good to be true.

John had pulled me behind a stack of crates, but the bullets were splintering the wood. We took turns peaking out and shooting, but it was impossible to see who we were shooting at.

"GET HER OUT OF HERE!" Tommy instructed John, but we were ultimately stuck.

"If you slip past the warehouse, you can squeeze through a narrow passage, that will get you out." Vallier rushed."Dont worry, these lads will run out of ammunition soon enough!"

John and I glanced at each other, and before I knew it, he was dragging me into the open space, headed where Vallier had mentioned. The warehouse was right night to a brick wall, with a gap just big enough for me to squeeze through. John on the other hand wouldn't even be able to get a foot in.

"John!"

"You keep going (Y/N), keep hidden until you don't hear no shooting no more, yeah?"

I nodded, groaning as I pulled myself through the gap. I had to walk sideways in order to keep moving, the bricks scraping against my skin. It was starting to get claustrophobic, and I was glad to have reached the end of it. Back in the normal streets, I seemed to be in the alleyway between people's back gardens. Slowly opening a back gate, I looked around it, praying there was someplace to hide. There was a shed, but I had a risk of being seen if the owners came along. But I was a Shelby, they should know who I am and not question it if I they did find me. And I had my gun, I was safe. Luckily the door was unlocked, and I hid inside, ducking so i wasn't seen through the window.

The relentless sound of bullets richoted through the air, echoing to me. I hated not being in the fight, but there was no time to argue in a battlefield. My brother's knew what was best for me most of the time... most of the time.

It sounded like there were less bullets flying about. One last shot rang out, I waited a few minutes for anymore sounds. When nothing came, I made my way back to the alley. I still had my guard up, not that my brother's would be dead, because we were the fucking Peaky Blinders, and this wasn't our final fight.

"In the bleak midwinter..." I muttered under my breath, slowly walking.

I wanted to call out to my brother's, though that was a stupid idea, and I kept silent. The sound of a gun clicking knocked my instincts into gear, and I aimed my gun towards the sound.

"What the fuck do your think you're doing?" I snapped. It was the boy that started this all.

"You fuckers killed my brother!"

"So you think that makes it OK to kill all of us?"

"I'll shoot you!"

Before he could do so, I shot him first, hitting him square in the chest. He froze, hands dropping to his sides, gun falling to the floor before his knees buckledonto the cobbles, and his body collapsed. I wasted no time running past him, checking the coast was clear before I rounded the corner.

"(Y/N)!"

Tommy was up ahead, already running towards me. I let out a breath of relief, also running to him. For fucks sake, why couldn't things go smoothly for once? It couldn't just be a done deal. Someone was always out to kill us.

My fingers outstretched towards Tommy's hand, and I almost grabbed them when an excruciating pain rippled through my back, and the another pang, and another. Everything went silent, my eyes widened in shock and the breath was all but gone from my body. The boy had shot me, somehow he wasn't dead and had shot me.

Tommy caught me before I hit the ground, and I wanted to desperately hold onto him, but I couldn't control my limbs.

"Somebody get the fucking car!" he yelled, the sound suddenly flooding back.

"T-Tommy," I shakily said, looking up at him,"h-h-hold me, please, I w-want t-to feel you."

His arms gradually gripped onto me tighter, and I showed no pain, even though it made me feel worse. It was rare to see Tommy Shelby cry, and it felt like an honour to watch them roll down and out of his crystal blue eyes.

I swallowed the taste of blood rising in my throat."Tommy, l-listen. I-I w-want you to marry that....that G-Grace."

"What? (Y/N) don't worry-"

"She challenges you, I-I l-like her. A-and h-have a nice wed... wedding."

"I will."

"C-an I have a portrait? You always s-said I-I could."

He nodded."You'll sit for that portrait yourself. You're not going anywhere."

"(Y/N), Tommy!" I could faintly hear John and Arthur.

I smiled. My older brothers were here, they were going to look after me like they always did.

"John, Arthur."

"We're here (Y/N), alright?" John cried, grabbing one of my hands.

"Fucking hell." Arthur seethed.

"I-I love you all. T-tell Finn and P-Polly...that...I love them too."

"You can't go (Y/N), you just can't." Tommy whispered.

"You'll live on Tommy. Be happy, please, f-for me."

I lavished the feeling of comfort as I felt my skin turn colder, it was harder to breathe, harder to stay awake. The pain I was in didn't matter, I had my three heroes around me, my three brothers. They say us Shelby's couldn't be killed, and I had always lived by that. However, someone had plans for me to die today, and if it meant something bigger and better for my family then so be it. I held onto my smile as much as possible, not wanting my boys to see how I was hurting. As life slowed down around me, I looked up one last time into Tommy's eyes, his beautiful blue eyes that I was envious of; they were a comfort, a piece of my brother I would keep with me forever, even if they were full of tears.

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adaralondon · 5 years ago

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How the police got away with murder: A linguistics study

Most of the time when you read an article regarding a murder the journalist focuses on the victims and the details surrounding his or her case, however, that is not what happened in the case of Botham Jean. After sitting in his home, comforted asleep by his living room chair, a woman ‘mistakenly’ entered his home and shot the unarmed, sleeping, Black man dead. Being a citizen who was impacted enough to read this article you would expect the journalist to report the facts and only the facts; you would not want to read how people felt about the his character nor would you want to read about any drugs found in his apartment, as that has little relevance to his murder. Unfortunately, that is what happened with Botham Jean, his article instead of being focused on what its title suggests is mostly composed of quotes that attest to his character. The use of these quotations among other things make it seem as though there is an intentional desire to smear his name in order to justify his death and not indict the true responsible party. The use of passive voice, register, the ideological square, and bias in this article is justifiable proof that the police and the journalist (to some extent) attempted to smear the victim’s reputation by backgrounding key pieces of information and shifting the blame on the victim rather than properly convicting Amber Guyer for her crimes. These types of articles and cases continue to cause harm to the Black community and perpetuate the stereotype of “Black community versus The Police” adding to current racial tensions.

In order to understand my claim, it is important to point out the change in the titles from the time the article was originally released unto the time the internet created enough fuss to have Fox go back and change the titling to reflect a more “non biased” wording choice. The original title of the article was as following:

DEVELOPING: Search warrant: Marijuana found in Botham Jean’s apartment after deadly shooting.

It is important to note certain features of the article’s original title background a lot of important information. For instance, the only name being presented: Botham Jean, is the victim’s name, however the words: search warrant and deadly shooting, which are very incendiary terms, are also in the title. If you had not opened the article the choice of words would most likely lead you to believe that Jean committed the shooting instead of being shot. The omission of information and the use of passive voice is a common problem that occurs when a Black male is the victim. It seems that just by the title alone there is a deliberate attempt to smear his name by intentionally not placing needed information with the use of passive voice. The title could have easily been worded using active voice as following:

“Following the shooting death of Botham Jean by the hands of Dallas Police Officer Amber Guyger, multiple search warrants were executed at Jean’s apartment as part of the investigation.”

Which ironically enough is the first line of the actual article. It also avoids the victim blaming that the title has, and the use of Active voice clearly conveys what exactly happened that night while still leaving the “I want to read more” element Fox attempted to do with this first title. Most of the time writers tend to steer away from using passive voice because it leaves to many gaps that the reader themselves would have to fill in along with the opportunity to for misinterpreting information. Journalist especially tend to negate using passive voice unless they want to emphasize the action instead of the actor or subject, which is what is happening here witt the emphasis being on the drugs found in the apartment instead of his death. By using the active voice, the journalist would have to insert a vehicle which he is, suspiciously enough, attempting his hardest not to do.

The reworked title also further proves a smear tactic when it is changed to:

Lawyers "disgusted" by release of search warrant showing marijuana found in Botham Jean's apartment.

Kept the same is the ideology that Botham is the criminal. By placing the word lawyer where it is placed it makes it seem as though the lawyer is disgusted by the fact that his client’s criminal history was leaked instead of the lawyer being upset that sensitive information was leaked at an inappropriate timing and/or the relevance of the search warrant being issued for the victim’s apartment. There is also a clear vehicle of anger, which is being carried by the lawyer instead of the victim’s family, who would logically be the most affected by the dehumanizing release of information. This may induce a pattern of thinking that the lawyer is unjustly hot headed especially since the family shows zero traces of anger, negating the fact that the families are often advised not to speak while cases are pending as to avoid angry emotional responses that may jeopardize their cases. Although it should be noted that Jean’s mother, Allison Jean, did speak on her son’s death but it is not included in the article “To have my son smeared in such a way I think shows that there are persons who are really nasty, who are really dirty and are covering up for the devil Amber Guyger," and “It is time that we recognize that lives matter. My son’s life matters,"/ "At 26-years-old, he had done so much so if you extrapolate what he could have done had he reached my age, then you would have seen how much I have lost.” Both of these emotional quotes are in reponse to the smear campaign however neither of these are mentioned in the article. The quotes provided are more so to argue his character rather than anything the family nor the lawyer felt in reference to the drugs being found in the apartment. (Please note that the above quotations come from an article written and similarly titled to the Fox article I have chosen to write on!) Furthermore, the second line of the article is: “Attorneys for Botham Jean's family are outraged that the document describing drug evidence became public on the same day of his funeral.” Which the use of active voice clearly conveys the justness of the lawyer’s anger which the changed title does not do an efficient job at.

Along with the passive voice of the titling of article, the use of a register is also a reason to argue for smearing of the victim. The thing that strikes me the most is that the search warrant is referred to as “THE document” several times in the article. This may not seem like a huge deal but when looking at the etymologies of the words warrant and document there’s a clear distinguishable difference. The swapping of these word leaves no doubt in my mind that this is intentionally done to make people believe the search warrant isn’t as big of a deal as the lawyer is making it out to be:

Warrant: Sense evolved via notion of "permission from a superior which protects one from blame or responsibility" (early 14c.) to "document conveying authority" (1510s).

Document: Meaning "written or printed paper that provides proof or evidence" is from early 18c., hence "anything bearing legible writing or inscription."

Note the phrase "anything bearing legible writing or inscription.” A document could be anything with writing on it while a warrant conveys authority However people do not need a etymology dictionary to know there is a difference in these terms. The word warrant has a much more authoritative sound than the word document, which is why it is used, to take the heat off of the police department. The use of warrant is also used whenever there is reference to the case or to the items found in Jean’s apartment. Warrant is used four times specifically when bringing up the criminal offences and items found in his apartment, once in the direct quote by the ‘hot headed’ lawyer. Document is used twice and the word “it” is also thrown in the mix implying the detachment of the importance of the search warrant in the first place.

There are also certain trigger words that are not swapped out during the article at all. Marijuana is used instead of word weed or drug as both of these terms have less of a harsh sounding tone. Hypothetically the use of the word Marijuana would bring about an ethos reponse from most civilians who were raised on the thought that drugs are bad (which is most kids because Red Ribbon week is implemented across the united states in elementary schools) or people who have lost someone to drug abuse and/or the gang activity that is strongly correlated with drug usage or distribution. The words deadly shooting instead of killing are also used to invoke a reponse from people who have lost someone from drug violence. This definitely raises an Us vs Them sentiment which the passively voiced articles also play into. Albeit it’s not stated explicitly, the undertones of the title suggest that Jean had some sort of criminal past or current behavior which warranted him being shot: “Marijuana found in Botham Jean’s apartment.” and that as citizens who trust the police to protect us, we should rally behind the them instead of the side of some kingpin drug dealer.

This brings me to the last claim I am trying to make to prove victim shaming. For this to be an article about Botham Jean, the only focus on him is when there is a discussion of what was found in his apartment, which for reference, is a bunch contraband. This proves a bias because the journalist is choosing to foreground what people are saying about the victim and backgrounding any information that would highlight what the article should actually be about, as one would think the title of the article should portray its overall subject, yet in this case it portrays opinions of other people who debate his character instead. The journalist of the article inadvertently forms a second Ideological square: The family of the deceased and the lawyer versus the Department of Police and to some degree the journalist, himself. The way the journalist chooses to write the article not only proves he has a bias but also confirms the police have a bias toward their colleague: Amber Guyer which he may have been attempting to avoid making that known, but by backgrounding the facts of the case and focusing on quotations, he inadvertently proves both biases.

The Department of Police’s bias is confirmed when they refuse to specify who the items found in the apartment belong to: “The document does not say where any of the items were located in the apartment or who the items belong to.” They implicitly are admitting that they don’t want to confirm or deny who the items belong to because it may confirm that Amber Guyer did indeed kill Jean unjustly and this would cause them to lose face with the citizens in a time of great civil tensions. It is also important to mention that the police refuse to release her toxicology report ,the 911 phone call that was made, and several other things:

“According to the Dallas Morning News, other records that police and prosecutors refuse to release include: Guyger’s personnel file, records related to her shooting of a man she said took her Taser during a struggle in 2017, Guyger’s clock-in and clock-out times the day of the shooting, Guyger’s annual salary, previous administrative leave with the department, other 911 calls about the shooting, Guyger’s work schedule, body camera and dash camera videos, and any off-duty jobs she was approved to work. They have also refused to release the results of her drug and alcohol tests the public was told she was given that night.”

Although they seem to have no problem in releasing information about Jean what so ever. This reaffirms my claim that there is an attempt to smear the victim’s reputation as it is the journalist’s duty to provide all the facts of the crime and unfortunately Fox has a record of being an extremely biased source. The police also have a long historic record in smearing victims in order to save their own skins (think of the sprinkling crack on a victim’s body troupe). These things along with this article make it hard to believe there isn’t an intent to smear Jean’s name in order for Guyer to get off scotch free.

By reading the claims I have made, I think it is justifiable to think the police and journalist attempted to use lingustics tactics to smear the victim’s name in order to cover their own arse. To the untrained eye these tactics may have been missed but to someone with ample training in these factors it is easy to spot. The journalist used many quotations and register in order to background information regarding the victim and this is furthered with the use of passive voice in the title. The police downright hid things from the public and from Jean’s family who are only seeking clarity in their relative’s death. It is sad that this is common but maybe if more people took lingustics classes they would be able to catch these types of smear campaigns and bring these issues to attention. Hopefully then we can work on changing a system that supports criminals because they are in authority and corruption.

Works Cited

“After Smearing Botham Jean, Police Now Refuse to Release 911 Call Made by His Killer.” The Free Thought Project, 3 Oct. 2018, thefreethoughtproject.com/ambger-guyger-911-calls-release-refused/.

“Document (n.).” Index, www.etymonline.com/word/document.

“Warrent (n.).” Index, https://www.etymonline.com/word/warrent.

Drayton, Tiffanie. “Fox Station Called out for Trying to Shame Black Victim Killed by Cop with Marijuana Found in His Home.” The Daily Dot, 14 Sept. 2018, www.dailydot.com/irl/fox-botham-jean-marijuana/.

KDFW. “Lawyers ‘Disgusted’ by Release of Search Warrant Showing Marijuana Found in Botham Jean's Apartment.” KDFW, http://www.fox4news.com/news/search-warrant-marijuana-found-in-botham-jeans-apartment-after-deadly-shooting.

vivian-kane. “The Blatantly Racist Character Assassination of Botham Jean, the Man Killed in His Home by an Off-Duty Cop.” The Mary Sue, The Mary Sue, 17 Sept. 2018, www.themarysue.com/racist-attacks-on-botham-jean/.

#essay #lingustics #study of words #l

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