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Fowler turns himself in on pair of murder charges

05-11-2007
Former Alabama State Trooper James Bonard Fowler, center, enters the Perry County Courthouse on Thursday with co-counsel Terrie Biggs and counsel George Black. Photo: Kevin Qualls/The Anniston Star

MARION — For a daughter, the journey toward the truth finally started Thursday afternoon on a sun-swept day far different from the one that took her daddy’s life.

She was too young to remember him, only 3 when Jimmie Lee Jackson died after being shot in the aftermath of a civil rights march in his hometown.

On Thursday, Cordelia Billingsley was across town from the courthouse where the state trooper who shot Jackson four decades ago turned himself in to face the law. James Bonard Fowler, charged with first-degree and second-degree murder, was allowed to remain free on a $250,000 property bond.

“I want to know what happened that night, I always have,” Billingsley said. “I want to get to the truth of it.”

In the ensuing chaos surrounding the march in 1965, state trooper Fowler shot and killed Jackson, who was 26. This week in Marion, the 73-year-old Fowler was indicted for murder in Jackson’s death.

While there is no dispute that Fowler shot Jackson (he admitted that he did so to The Star in 2005) Fowler has maintained that it was in self-defense that he shot Jackson.

“You know I never knew him,” said Billingsley, now 45. “The only memory I still have is when my mom lifted me up, and I laid my hand on his forehead. I just thought he was sleeping, but he was lying in the casket.”

Stories about the night Jackson was shot — and the weeks that followed — circulated throughout Marion on Thursday. Amzie Lucky hovered outside his furniture shop just off the town square. Smooth music drifted up from an outside speaker, sunshine bathed his store front, and a light breeze toyed with his sign.

He’s often in his cushioned chair, awaiting customers, enjoying the passing of another day in this quiet Black Belt town.

A good deal more peaceful, he pointed out, than it was 42 years ago, when violence descended on Marion, ripping open wounds that still fester today.

“I stood right up there,” Lucky said pointing to a street corner about 50 feet away. “A bunch of state troopers beat me there. I fell back and then got back up and got beat again.”

Someone, he added, took him to the hospital where they bandaged up his head, bleeding from blows he received from a billy club.

“I used to have big hair, an Afro,” he said. “They hit me so hard, it went right through and made me bleed.”

Memories revived

For this town of about 3,600 people, the events of the last few days have come as a shock to some, barely noticed by others and long overdue by many.

For Lucky, who testified before the grand jury, he is not only glad this day has come, he feels strongly that Fowler should be convicted.

“That man should be punished for what he did,” said Lucky.

It is a feeling reflected down toward the ABC store at the end of Jefferson Street, where a cluster of men linger near a spot where an on-going domino game usually takes place.

“I sure am happy there is finally going to be a trial,” said Eddie Lee Turner, who was 6 at the time of the protest. “It’s about time.”

The march began here, at the Zion United Methodist Church, in the Marion town square. Jimmie Lee Jackson was shot inside Mac's Cafe, which was behind the church. Photo: Kevin Qualls/The Anniston Star

A few blocks away, Dorothy Parker Heard, 69, sits on her front porch sharing remembrances of the past and opinions about the future.

“That shooting was not accidental,” she said. “That boy (Jackson) wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

Heard says she and a friend were planning to go to the march that night in 1965, but were late. As they drew close to the town square and Mack’s Café, where Jackson was shot, they came into a crowd of people.

Heard was seven months pregnant at the time with her fourth child. She said she saw Jackson on his side in the street. She knew it was him because he was wearing light-colored pants and shirt, a kind of uniform he often wore when he delivered milk. Indeed, she said, he had brought milk to her home that very day.

“I stopped. I was going to try to help the boy,” she said. “Then I felt something touch me right here,” she said pointing to her side. “It went all through my body, I went down on the ground and it felt like I had to throw up. It was a cattle prod, I know it was a cattle prod. The next morning, I couldn’t eat, felt like I was sick.”

Around the square Thursday, business went on as usual. People marched in and out of the courthouse and shops around the square. Some declined interviews, saying they did not know about the case; they expressed surprise at the number of journalists in town.

Others were acutely aware of what was taking place.

Sheriff’s deputy Carlton Hogue, a third cousin to Jackson, stood in the shade of an oak tree beside the Perry County Courthouse a few minutes after he helped fingerprint James Fowler.

Fowler was courteous, Hogue said. He expressed surprise at the high-tech fingerprint machine the sheriff’s department used. He wanted Hogue to show him Marion on the map and talked about what a nice and pretty little town it is.

“I can’t believe this finally happened,” Hogue said. “But I’m glad it did. “Now something is going to happen. Either he goes to prison or not. Whatever the outcome, let’s have a process.”

Hogue said that when Fowler was led into the courthouse it was the first time he had ever seen him.

“I didn’t feel hatred when I saw him,” said Hogue. “I felt, well finally Jimmie Lee will get his day in court.”

After a few moments, he added, “To tell you the truth, I am more upset with the state of Alabama than with Bonard Fowler,” he said. “It is George Wallace who should be on trial, not Fowler. That man wouldn’t have ever even come to Marion that night had he not been called up here. Fowler, he’s a scapegoat.”

Across the street, at College City Drugs, store clerk Linda Hughey, after watching gaggle of reporters and cameraman follow Fowler into the courthouse and back out again, said the case should have been heard a long time ago.

While her black colleague declined an interview, Hughey, 63, said, “It should have been investigated to begin with, back when it happened. Everyone deserves their day in court.”

Out on Washington Street, in the midmorning sunshine, Don McMillan, 37, the new Perry County district judge, agreed.

In the glare of a mid-morning sunshine, he paused a moment before saying, “I think it was a case that needed to be brought. Anytime a life has been taken, these questions should be answered.”

About John Fleming:

John Fleming is The Star's editor at large.

Contact John Fleming:

E-mail:
johnfleming2005@bellsouth.net
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