Not A Black And White Conviction
Wiith the exception of the author, all other names of characters in this story have been changed.
Due to the extreme passage of time, the author acknowledges the possibility of "plot holes" in this story.
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
Jan 2025
Wiith the exception of the author, all other names of characters in this story have been changed.
Due to the extreme passage of time, the author acknowledges the possibility of "plot holes" in this story.
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
Jan 2025
Preface
As a young inexperienced U. S. Marine, I endured a conglomeration of overseas tours that were full of dangerous upheavals. When I was finally back at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, the feeling of being glad to be back at my homebase faded quickly. I found out real fast I was certainly not safe and sound at Camp Lejeune.
There was a lot of racism between white and black Marines..
The entire history of Camp Lejeune was enshrined in white supremacy, where black Marines were always discriminated against by callous acts of physical and verbal abuse by active duty Klu Klux Klan Marines. These black Marines were not only segregated in insalubrious conditions, they were also denied any kind of merit promotions.
In vast amounts, black Marines in the late 1960’s began acts of retaliation against white Marines. In one racial instance, fifty plus black Marines at the NCO (Noncommissioned Officers) Club, assaulted fifteen white Marines. Moments later, a white Marine was found murdered. This incident truly fueled the fire of hatred between white and black Marines at Camp Lejeune for years to come.
Chapter One
In the mid 1970’s, I graduated from the Cross-Country Chaser School at Ft. Benning, Georgia. I had been escorting mainly black Marines to both their court-martials, and, upon their conviction, to the military penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.
The racial disparity between prisoners was eighteen blacks to every white Marine taken to prison. Most were uneducated, and were recently convicted of some type of crime that was equal to either gross misdemeanors or felonies.
Then came Corporal Reginald Jenkins. A black Marine. An exception to the rule of being discriminated against by white Marines. He was well educated, well spoken, and a model U.S. Marine. He was, in his platoon, at the top of the promotion list for sergeant.
And then one night while sleeping in the barracks, I was called to duty. My orders were to drive a secured military van to base housing and pick up a prisoner from the military police. He was to be delivered to the brig for safe keeping.
I was stunned. There stood Corporal Jenkins in handcuffs and leg irons. I got the following briefing from the military police:
“This nigger first tried to rape a white woman. When she resisted, he killed her by shooting her point blank in the head. Keep this black bastard in handcuffs and leg irons at all times.” I replied, “Yes sir.”
Once on the road in the prisoner van and out of sight of the military police, I said, “My God, Rex, what the hell happened back there?” He said, “I told my wife I was going to walk over to a friend’s house, a couple of streets over, and have a couple of beers. When I got there he was drunk. I kept trying to leave, but he wouldn’t let me. I’d get to the door, and he’d pull me back inside.” I interjected, “Rex, you know you are one of the few blacks in base housing. To leave your home after dark is just looking for trouble. You, better than anybody else, know that Camp Lejeune’s base housing is filled with white racists and their many loose inebriated wives. Rex replied, “But I didn’t do anything wrong. She made a pass at me, but I stopped her from kissing me. My friend saw what had happened. I then walked out the front door of their home. Walking away, I heard the two of them fighting. And then, I heard a gunshot. I then started running away. I was scared. I just wanted to get home as quick as I could to my wife and two kids. But, before I could get there, the military police were coming down the street with their flashing lights on, and their sirens blasting. The MP’s then put their spotlights on me. I stopped running because I was blinded. Automatically, the MP’s roughed me up and then placed their handcuffs and leg irons on me. The MP’s took me back to the scene of the crime. The husband confirmed that I tried to have sex with his wife."
He said to the MP's, “When she wouldn’t comply, this nigger pulled out a gun from his pocket and shot my wife point blank in her forehead.”
The MP’s wanted Rex to tell them where the murder weapon was located. The MP’s didn’t believe Rex's story that he had no weapon of any kind and had not done anything wrong.
Although the wife of Rex’s so-called friend was dead by gunshot, Sergeant Billy Ray Thompson was initially cleared of any wrongdoing, and was therefore released on his own recognizance. The MP’s then gave the sergeant a ride to his company barracks where he would stay until the biohazard personnel completed disinfecting, deep cleaning, and the sanitizing of the crime scene.
No thorough forensics examination was completed prior to the cleaning
As a young inexperienced U. S. Marine, I endured a conglomeration of overseas tours that were full of dangerous upheavals. When I was finally back at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, the feeling of being glad to be back at my homebase faded quickly. I found out real fast I was certainly not safe and sound at Camp Lejeune.
There was a lot of racism between white and black Marines..
The entire history of Camp Lejeune was enshrined in white supremacy, where black Marines were always discriminated against by callous acts of physical and verbal abuse by active duty Klu Klux Klan Marines. These black Marines were not only segregated in insalubrious conditions, they were also denied any kind of merit promotions.
In vast amounts, black Marines in the late 1960’s began acts of retaliation against white Marines. In one racial instance, fifty plus black Marines at the NCO (Noncommissioned Officers) Club, assaulted fifteen white Marines. Moments later, a white Marine was found murdered. This incident truly fueled the fire of hatred between white and black Marines at Camp Lejeune for years to come.
Chapter One
In the mid 1970’s, I graduated from the Cross-Country Chaser School at Ft. Benning, Georgia. I had been escorting mainly black Marines to both their court-martials, and, upon their conviction, to the military penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.
The racial disparity between prisoners was eighteen blacks to every white Marine taken to prison. Most were uneducated, and were recently convicted of some type of crime that was equal to either gross misdemeanors or felonies.
Then came Corporal Reginald Jenkins. A black Marine. An exception to the rule of being discriminated against by white Marines. He was well educated, well spoken, and a model U.S. Marine. He was, in his platoon, at the top of the promotion list for sergeant.
And then one night while sleeping in the barracks, I was called to duty. My orders were to drive a secured military van to base housing and pick up a prisoner from the military police. He was to be delivered to the brig for safe keeping.
I was stunned. There stood Corporal Jenkins in handcuffs and leg irons. I got the following briefing from the military police:
“This nigger first tried to rape a white woman. When she resisted, he killed her by shooting her point blank in the head. Keep this black bastard in handcuffs and leg irons at all times.” I replied, “Yes sir.”
Once on the road in the prisoner van and out of sight of the military police, I said, “My God, Rex, what the hell happened back there?” He said, “I told my wife I was going to walk over to a friend’s house, a couple of streets over, and have a couple of beers. When I got there he was drunk. I kept trying to leave, but he wouldn’t let me. I’d get to the door, and he’d pull me back inside.” I interjected, “Rex, you know you are one of the few blacks in base housing. To leave your home after dark is just looking for trouble. You, better than anybody else, know that Camp Lejeune’s base housing is filled with white racists and their many loose inebriated wives. Rex replied, “But I didn’t do anything wrong. She made a pass at me, but I stopped her from kissing me. My friend saw what had happened. I then walked out the front door of their home. Walking away, I heard the two of them fighting. And then, I heard a gunshot. I then started running away. I was scared. I just wanted to get home as quick as I could to my wife and two kids. But, before I could get there, the military police were coming down the street with their flashing lights on, and their sirens blasting. The MP’s then put their spotlights on me. I stopped running because I was blinded. Automatically, the MP’s roughed me up and then placed their handcuffs and leg irons on me. The MP’s took me back to the scene of the crime. The husband confirmed that I tried to have sex with his wife."
He said to the MP's, “When she wouldn’t comply, this nigger pulled out a gun from his pocket and shot my wife point blank in her forehead.”
The MP’s wanted Rex to tell them where the murder weapon was located. The MP’s didn’t believe Rex's story that he had no weapon of any kind and had not done anything wrong.
Although the wife of Rex’s so-called friend was dead by gunshot, Sergeant Billy Ray Thompson was initially cleared of any wrongdoing, and was therefore released on his own recognizance. The MP’s then gave the sergeant a ride to his company barracks where he would stay until the biohazard personnel completed disinfecting, deep cleaning, and the sanitizing of the crime scene.
No thorough forensics examination was completed prior to the cleaning
Chapter Two
Rex (Corporal Jenkins) was in the brig for the next two weeks before I was allowed to take custody of him. I drove him over to his home in base housing. I told Rex he had to go inside his house and get all the family personal effects in order. Everything in his house had to be shipped home. Rex and I sat in the van and waited on the movers. They were late in showing up for the appointment.
During our conversation, Rex really surprised me. Although his two kids had been flown back to their home of record in Atlanta, Georgia, his wife, Naomi, had stayed in their base housing residence the entire time he was in the brig. Somehow, Rex knew his wife was still at Camp Lejeune. I thought, “There had to be some type of mixup. The Marine Corps would have never allowed a prisoner’s wife to remain in base housing.”
The base grapevine was going wild over the Corporal Jenkins murder case. No one, including me, believed that a top notch Marine such as Corporal Jenkins had committed any kind of murder, much less, that of a white woman.
In fact it had just been several weeks before this incident, in a formal ceremony, that the Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps, awarded four Marines, of which Corporal Jenkins was one, for their exceptional work that far surpassed their peers. Additionally, and generally unheard of in the Marines, Corporal Jenkins had maintained perfect proficiency and conduct scores for a period of two years.
Therefore, I was considering, once I got Rex inside his house, I would take the belly chains and leg irons off of him so that he could spend some private time with his wife.
But even in the situation of taking the restraints off of him, Rex was still vintage Corporal Jenkins. He said, “Chap, please, you’re not supposed to be doing this. Please put the belly chains and leg irons back on me. You could get in a world of shit for doing this, Chap.”
I then told Rex, “I’ve given a lot of thought in allowing you to escape from me. I know you are not guilty of murder. I’m going back out to the van, and I’m going to give you either one hour with your wife, or until the movers arrive. If you’re still here when I come back inside the house, the belly chains and leg irons will be reapplied to you. Do you understand me, Rex?”
I saw Rex give his wife a big hug. I turned away and walked out of the house. I sat in the prison van and listened to a local rock-n-roll radio station for the next hour and a half. Finally, I saw a civilian moving van approaching Rex’s home in base housing. I walked back inside Rex’s house and expected him to have escaped from me, while taking his wife with him. But, once again, there was vintage Rex. Standing in his living room, with his arms held out, waiting for me to put my body restraints back on him. Rex then said, very politely, “Thank you so much for allowing my wife and I to have private time together. Rex’s wife came over and kissed me on the cheek.
In the next few hours, all of the personal effects belonging to Rex and his wife were securely packed on the moving van. The movers drove away. It was now just past dusk. Rex and his wife made sure the house was left clean. Rex then secured the front and back doors, and then asked me to put the key to their house in their mailbox.
I offered to take Rex’s wife to either a local bus station or the airport. She had chosen to fly back home to Atlanta, Georgia.
Naomi was sitting next to me in the prison van, and, of course, Rex was confined in the prisoner’s cage. I knew this was very hard on him.
But, then again, vintage Rex appears again. “Chap, you could get in a lot of trouble for doing this. Don’t you realize this?” I replied, “Rex, I know the responsibilities of my job, but, if I don’t help you and your wife, how could I possibly face God on my Judgement Day? They are preparing to lynch you, Rex, for a murder you never committed. Don’t you understand this, my friend?"
Naomi was sitting in the passenger's seat crying her eyes out. Rex responds by saying, “Chap, remember when you were accused of non-support and abandonment of family? Remember the lieutenant told you to stand tall as a U.S. Marine in that redneck courtroom?” I said, “Yes, Rex.” Naomi then said to me, “Didn’t you win that case, against all odds?” I nodded my head, yes. Rex then said, “Well Chap, I’m going to do the same thing here, no matter how long it takes me.”
We had arrived at the people drop-off spot in front of the airport. I turned the van off and walked around the vehicle and unlocked the prisoner’s door. Naomi and Rex said their goodbyes to each other. It was a tearful moment, that included my eyes getting watery.
Upon our arrival back at the Camp Lejeune brig, I expected to be questioned about the length of time I was gone with the prisoner. But, no one said anything to me. Was I ever relieved.
Rex (Corporal Jenkins) was in the brig for the next two weeks before I was allowed to take custody of him. I drove him over to his home in base housing. I told Rex he had to go inside his house and get all the family personal effects in order. Everything in his house had to be shipped home. Rex and I sat in the van and waited on the movers. They were late in showing up for the appointment.
During our conversation, Rex really surprised me. Although his two kids had been flown back to their home of record in Atlanta, Georgia, his wife, Naomi, had stayed in their base housing residence the entire time he was in the brig. Somehow, Rex knew his wife was still at Camp Lejeune. I thought, “There had to be some type of mixup. The Marine Corps would have never allowed a prisoner’s wife to remain in base housing.”
The base grapevine was going wild over the Corporal Jenkins murder case. No one, including me, believed that a top notch Marine such as Corporal Jenkins had committed any kind of murder, much less, that of a white woman.
In fact it had just been several weeks before this incident, in a formal ceremony, that the Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps, awarded four Marines, of which Corporal Jenkins was one, for their exceptional work that far surpassed their peers. Additionally, and generally unheard of in the Marines, Corporal Jenkins had maintained perfect proficiency and conduct scores for a period of two years.
Therefore, I was considering, once I got Rex inside his house, I would take the belly chains and leg irons off of him so that he could spend some private time with his wife.
But even in the situation of taking the restraints off of him, Rex was still vintage Corporal Jenkins. He said, “Chap, please, you’re not supposed to be doing this. Please put the belly chains and leg irons back on me. You could get in a world of shit for doing this, Chap.”
I then told Rex, “I’ve given a lot of thought in allowing you to escape from me. I know you are not guilty of murder. I’m going back out to the van, and I’m going to give you either one hour with your wife, or until the movers arrive. If you’re still here when I come back inside the house, the belly chains and leg irons will be reapplied to you. Do you understand me, Rex?”
I saw Rex give his wife a big hug. I turned away and walked out of the house. I sat in the prison van and listened to a local rock-n-roll radio station for the next hour and a half. Finally, I saw a civilian moving van approaching Rex’s home in base housing. I walked back inside Rex’s house and expected him to have escaped from me, while taking his wife with him. But, once again, there was vintage Rex. Standing in his living room, with his arms held out, waiting for me to put my body restraints back on him. Rex then said, very politely, “Thank you so much for allowing my wife and I to have private time together. Rex’s wife came over and kissed me on the cheek.
In the next few hours, all of the personal effects belonging to Rex and his wife were securely packed on the moving van. The movers drove away. It was now just past dusk. Rex and his wife made sure the house was left clean. Rex then secured the front and back doors, and then asked me to put the key to their house in their mailbox.
I offered to take Rex’s wife to either a local bus station or the airport. She had chosen to fly back home to Atlanta, Georgia.
Naomi was sitting next to me in the prison van, and, of course, Rex was confined in the prisoner’s cage. I knew this was very hard on him.
But, then again, vintage Rex appears again. “Chap, you could get in a lot of trouble for doing this. Don’t you realize this?” I replied, “Rex, I know the responsibilities of my job, but, if I don’t help you and your wife, how could I possibly face God on my Judgement Day? They are preparing to lynch you, Rex, for a murder you never committed. Don’t you understand this, my friend?"
Naomi was sitting in the passenger's seat crying her eyes out. Rex responds by saying, “Chap, remember when you were accused of non-support and abandonment of family? Remember the lieutenant told you to stand tall as a U.S. Marine in that redneck courtroom?” I said, “Yes, Rex.” Naomi then said to me, “Didn’t you win that case, against all odds?” I nodded my head, yes. Rex then said, “Well Chap, I’m going to do the same thing here, no matter how long it takes me.”
We had arrived at the people drop-off spot in front of the airport. I turned the van off and walked around the vehicle and unlocked the prisoner’s door. Naomi and Rex said their goodbyes to each other. It was a tearful moment, that included my eyes getting watery.
Upon our arrival back at the Camp Lejeune brig, I expected to be questioned about the length of time I was gone with the prisoner. But, no one said anything to me. Was I ever relieved.
Chapter Three
In the coming weeks, I was assigned on several occasions to guard Corporal Jenkins. There was a lot of red tape on Camp Lejeune to complete prior to the Jenkins murder trial commencing. Rex was surely not happy with his court appointed lawyer, nor was he happy with the jury selection process. The jurors were all white. At the end of the day, Rex told me he now was quite sure these country bumpkins on the jury were going to sentence him to hang him for a crime he never committed.
In the courtroom during Rex’s trial, I would make it a point to see if there was any type of secret conveyings going on by the jury members, the prosecutor, and even Rex's defense lawyer.
I had once been taught by an instructor at the chaser school academy to watch, if possible, both the eyes and eyebrow movements of the jurors in the courtroom. This was considered to be an independent and proactive measure in the keeping of the court's integrity. But, in this case, at the Corporal Jenkins murder trial, I would be misusing another part of my academy training. I would be doing this type of surveillance work for the benefit of Corporal Jenkins. But, I would feel no guilt. I was just helping in any way I could to save the life of an innocent man.
During about an eighth of the Corporal Jenkins trial, I would witness the Judge Advocate General, dozing off. But, in reality, who could fault him. There was no doubt the base’s Defense Service Office had assigned their most inept and incompetent lawyer to the Jenkins murder trial. During the whole trial, his appointed lawyer only made four motions, and never once objected to anything the trial judge or prosecutor would say.
But, the most outrageous aspect of this trial was that the murder weapon, presumably a handgun, was never mentioned by either the trial judge, the case prosecutor, or Corporal Jenkins's defense attorney. All direct and cross-examination questions were given to either spectator or character type witnesses. There was never any specific tendering of evidence. It was absolutely unconscionable, egregious, flagrant, preposterous and even absurd that both the victim's husband, Marine Sergeant Billy Ray Thompson, and the murder suspect, Corporal Reginald Jenkins, had never been given any type of a gunfire residue test at the scene of the crime.
Additionally, during the whole trial, the jurors in the courtroom ran rampant with their eye contact between each other. The jurors didn’t even try to hide their direct duration of gazes towards one another. Each time Corporal Jenkins, or a character witness of his, was called to the witness stand, the jurors would either blink their eyes, or raise their eyebrows repeatedly. This, I assumed to be signifying their hostility towards the person on the witness stand. It was also fact that the jurors would never speak a single word in the courtroom. When the trial judge would ask the jury foreman a question, the answer was written down on a piece of paper and given to the judge by the courtroom bailiff.
Of course, Corporal Jenkins was found guilty of first degree murder of a white woman. He was sentenced to life without the possibility of parole or clemency. I watched Corporal Jenkins finally breakdown and cry. He was missing his family terribly. He didn't think he would ever see them again.
But, Corporal Jenkins being the man that he was, had told his wife not to come to his trial. He was afraid that the Camp Lejeune authorities would conjure up some kind of criminal charge against her.
After each day in the courtroom, Rex and I would talk in the prison van. I brought up the possibility that while getting ready to transport him to Ft. Leavenworth, I would allow him, once again, the opportunity to escape. But Rex got very angry with me. He said, “Chap, I'm telling you again, this is not going to be a trade off of one life for another. In other words, Chap, they will virtually hang you if I should escape your custody. I would never do that to you, whether or not you would allow me to leave.” Through a small opening in the van’s wire mesh, separating the driver’s cab from the prisoner’s area, we shook hands.
In the coming weeks, I was assigned on several occasions to guard Corporal Jenkins. There was a lot of red tape on Camp Lejeune to complete prior to the Jenkins murder trial commencing. Rex was surely not happy with his court appointed lawyer, nor was he happy with the jury selection process. The jurors were all white. At the end of the day, Rex told me he now was quite sure these country bumpkins on the jury were going to sentence him to hang him for a crime he never committed.
In the courtroom during Rex’s trial, I would make it a point to see if there was any type of secret conveyings going on by the jury members, the prosecutor, and even Rex's defense lawyer.
I had once been taught by an instructor at the chaser school academy to watch, if possible, both the eyes and eyebrow movements of the jurors in the courtroom. This was considered to be an independent and proactive measure in the keeping of the court's integrity. But, in this case, at the Corporal Jenkins murder trial, I would be misusing another part of my academy training. I would be doing this type of surveillance work for the benefit of Corporal Jenkins. But, I would feel no guilt. I was just helping in any way I could to save the life of an innocent man.
During about an eighth of the Corporal Jenkins trial, I would witness the Judge Advocate General, dozing off. But, in reality, who could fault him. There was no doubt the base’s Defense Service Office had assigned their most inept and incompetent lawyer to the Jenkins murder trial. During the whole trial, his appointed lawyer only made four motions, and never once objected to anything the trial judge or prosecutor would say.
But, the most outrageous aspect of this trial was that the murder weapon, presumably a handgun, was never mentioned by either the trial judge, the case prosecutor, or Corporal Jenkins's defense attorney. All direct and cross-examination questions were given to either spectator or character type witnesses. There was never any specific tendering of evidence. It was absolutely unconscionable, egregious, flagrant, preposterous and even absurd that both the victim's husband, Marine Sergeant Billy Ray Thompson, and the murder suspect, Corporal Reginald Jenkins, had never been given any type of a gunfire residue test at the scene of the crime.
Additionally, during the whole trial, the jurors in the courtroom ran rampant with their eye contact between each other. The jurors didn’t even try to hide their direct duration of gazes towards one another. Each time Corporal Jenkins, or a character witness of his, was called to the witness stand, the jurors would either blink their eyes, or raise their eyebrows repeatedly. This, I assumed to be signifying their hostility towards the person on the witness stand. It was also fact that the jurors would never speak a single word in the courtroom. When the trial judge would ask the jury foreman a question, the answer was written down on a piece of paper and given to the judge by the courtroom bailiff.
Of course, Corporal Jenkins was found guilty of first degree murder of a white woman. He was sentenced to life without the possibility of parole or clemency. I watched Corporal Jenkins finally breakdown and cry. He was missing his family terribly. He didn't think he would ever see them again.
But, Corporal Jenkins being the man that he was, had told his wife not to come to his trial. He was afraid that the Camp Lejeune authorities would conjure up some kind of criminal charge against her.
After each day in the courtroom, Rex and I would talk in the prison van. I brought up the possibility that while getting ready to transport him to Ft. Leavenworth, I would allow him, once again, the opportunity to escape. But Rex got very angry with me. He said, “Chap, I'm telling you again, this is not going to be a trade off of one life for another. In other words, Chap, they will virtually hang you if I should escape your custody. I would never do that to you, whether or not you would allow me to leave.” Through a small opening in the van’s wire mesh, separating the driver’s cab from the prisoner’s area, we shook hands.
Chapter Four
My heart was aching. How could the United States Marine Corps possibly betray one of its best Marines. I would deliver Corporal Reginald (Rex) Jenkins to the military penitentiary at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. But, it would be with a very heavy heart.
A brig guard from Camp Lejeune would drive Corporal Jenkins and me in a prison van forty-six miles to the Wilmington International Airport. From there Corporal Jenkins and I would fly by a commercial airliner to the Kansas City International Airport.
I would then have to summon a prison van for an approximate twenty mile trip to the penitentiary. Once again, I was glad I did not have a dangerous prisoner in my custody. In most of my past arrivals with a prisoner at the airport, I had trouble getting a driver and a van from the penitentiary.
Airline pilots did not like prisoner chasers to carry any kind of a weapon on their aircraft. In turn, the pilots would demand chasers to surrender their weapons. The chaser’s weapon would be kept in the cockpit until the end of the flight. With Corporal Jenkins in my custody, I certainly had no problems complying with the pilot’s orders.
Our flight to Kansas City was extraordinary. The stewardess acted a bit strange towards me and Rex. I had removed all of Rex’s body restraints. But, what the stewardess probably didn't know, I was actually following the law. However, it was true that when Rex and I played checkers and poker during the flight, this would be considered, by my training standards, somewhat inappropriate. But, I have to assume what really threw the flight attendant's nose out of whack was when Rex and I would have cordial conversations where we both were laughing and having a good time.
The stewardess must have turned us in to the pilot. When all the other passengers on the plane had offloaded, the pilot returned my gun to me. He said to me, “I have to give you credit, you gave me your weapon in a secured gun case. Not only that, you kept your prisoner relaxed and in good spirits. I commend you. Job well done, Marine!”
Escorting Corporal Jenkins into the airport's baggage claim, we both knew our friendship was over.
I was shocked to see our driver from Ft. Leavenworth waiting on us. The driver was armed, and went right by the book. The only words Corporal Jenkins and I spoke were absolutely related to our business at hand.
In pulling up close to the penitentiary, I saw the fear in Rex’s eyes. I whispered to him, “It will be okay, just relax and do exactly as you are told.” Rex nodded his head, okay.
The guards knew that Corporal Jenkins had been convicted of murdering a white woman. But, I was confident these guards were nothing like the Marine Klu Klux Klansmen back at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.
Distressed, I slowly made my way out from Ft. Leavenworth. I had called a cab and had him drive me to the nearest Holiday Inn hotel. I stayed there for the next two days. I needed time to try to recover from all the presumed sinfulness within me for having taken an innocent man to prison for the rest of his life.
I called back to Camp Lejeune and informed my superiors that I had a case of influenza and I would be staying in a local hotel to recover. Permission was granted.
My heart was aching. How could the United States Marine Corps possibly betray one of its best Marines. I would deliver Corporal Reginald (Rex) Jenkins to the military penitentiary at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. But, it would be with a very heavy heart.
A brig guard from Camp Lejeune would drive Corporal Jenkins and me in a prison van forty-six miles to the Wilmington International Airport. From there Corporal Jenkins and I would fly by a commercial airliner to the Kansas City International Airport.
I would then have to summon a prison van for an approximate twenty mile trip to the penitentiary. Once again, I was glad I did not have a dangerous prisoner in my custody. In most of my past arrivals with a prisoner at the airport, I had trouble getting a driver and a van from the penitentiary.
Airline pilots did not like prisoner chasers to carry any kind of a weapon on their aircraft. In turn, the pilots would demand chasers to surrender their weapons. The chaser’s weapon would be kept in the cockpit until the end of the flight. With Corporal Jenkins in my custody, I certainly had no problems complying with the pilot’s orders.
Our flight to Kansas City was extraordinary. The stewardess acted a bit strange towards me and Rex. I had removed all of Rex’s body restraints. But, what the stewardess probably didn't know, I was actually following the law. However, it was true that when Rex and I played checkers and poker during the flight, this would be considered, by my training standards, somewhat inappropriate. But, I have to assume what really threw the flight attendant's nose out of whack was when Rex and I would have cordial conversations where we both were laughing and having a good time.
The stewardess must have turned us in to the pilot. When all the other passengers on the plane had offloaded, the pilot returned my gun to me. He said to me, “I have to give you credit, you gave me your weapon in a secured gun case. Not only that, you kept your prisoner relaxed and in good spirits. I commend you. Job well done, Marine!”
Escorting Corporal Jenkins into the airport's baggage claim, we both knew our friendship was over.
I was shocked to see our driver from Ft. Leavenworth waiting on us. The driver was armed, and went right by the book. The only words Corporal Jenkins and I spoke were absolutely related to our business at hand.
In pulling up close to the penitentiary, I saw the fear in Rex’s eyes. I whispered to him, “It will be okay, just relax and do exactly as you are told.” Rex nodded his head, okay.
The guards knew that Corporal Jenkins had been convicted of murdering a white woman. But, I was confident these guards were nothing like the Marine Klu Klux Klansmen back at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.
Distressed, I slowly made my way out from Ft. Leavenworth. I had called a cab and had him drive me to the nearest Holiday Inn hotel. I stayed there for the next two days. I needed time to try to recover from all the presumed sinfulness within me for having taken an innocent man to prison for the rest of his life.
I called back to Camp Lejeune and informed my superiors that I had a case of influenza and I would be staying in a local hotel to recover. Permission was granted.
Chapter Five
As the years passed, I had thoughts of Rex quite often. However, even though I would bring other prisoners into Ft. Leavenworth, I never went to see Rex, or ask any other guards how prisoner Reginald Jenkins was doing. While I felt in the wrong for not even inquiring, I surely didn’t want anyone in that penal institution to suspect me of any type of wrongdoing. As a prisoner chaser, I had an exceptionally good reputation.
Yesteryear had become the old days that I wanted ever so badly to just forget. I had first transferred from Camp Lejeune to a Marine base on the Island of Oahu, Hawaii. Next, I met my second wife there, and we had one child. A couple of years later, I left the Marine Corps when my enlistment contract had expired. I then brought my wife and child to live in Southern Nevada.
When many more years had passed, I was sitting home one night watching television. Surfing the channels, I abruptly stopped on a national magazine show. There was Rex, Reginald Jenkins, the feature story.
After over twenty years, Rex’s conviction had finally been overturned. His wife, Naomi, was still waiting for Rex to be released from prison. I just knew when I met Naomi that she was one loyal wife to Rex..
The Marine Corps had to pay dearly for their most disgusting blunders.
In the case of Reginald and Naomi Jenkins, and their two children, the Marines were found culpable in both intentional and negligent torts.
Rex received an enormous settlement.
He received a lump sum payment of two and a quarter million dollars. His wife Naomi, received a lump sum payment of one and a half million dollars. Their two children, now adult-aged, shared three quarters of a million dollar settlement.
In addition, for Rex, the rank of Corporal with honorable service was restored. But, this was not all. The Marine Corps was also ordered to immediately promote Reginald Jenkins to the rank of Sergeant Major.
The Marine Corps was also ordered to retire Sergeant Major Jenkins with twenty-five years of honorable service with full pay and benefits.
Listening to this entire story on a national magazine show, I was thrilled for Rex and his family.
But, there was a very sad and tragic ending to this story. After only four months of freedom, Rex had a severe heart attack, and died at home, in the arms of his wife, Naomi.
In getting Rex's funeral arrangements in order, Naomi had asked the commanding officer of a Marine Reserve Center in her hometown to have their band play, “Taps”, “The Marine Corps Hymn”, and “Eternal Father” in both a remembrance of, and a tribute to Sergeant Major Reginald Jenkins.
But, her request was denied.
Naomi cried once again, just like she did when her husband was taken to prison for a crime he did not commit.
Naomi visits Rex’s grave every few days, without fail. Naomi had a beautiful headstone installed at Rex's gravesite. There were both the American and Marine Corps flags flying high. Naomi keeps fresh flowers on Rex’s gravesite.
It’s a beautiful place to visit if one should desire to pay their respects to a true awe-inspiring African-American man.
I came to learn that Sergeant Major Reginald Jenkins' gravesite is a place where many school-aged children of all ethnic groups take sponsored expeditions in learning about this U. S. Marine who stood for justice at all costs.
As the years passed, I had thoughts of Rex quite often. However, even though I would bring other prisoners into Ft. Leavenworth, I never went to see Rex, or ask any other guards how prisoner Reginald Jenkins was doing. While I felt in the wrong for not even inquiring, I surely didn’t want anyone in that penal institution to suspect me of any type of wrongdoing. As a prisoner chaser, I had an exceptionally good reputation.
Yesteryear had become the old days that I wanted ever so badly to just forget. I had first transferred from Camp Lejeune to a Marine base on the Island of Oahu, Hawaii. Next, I met my second wife there, and we had one child. A couple of years later, I left the Marine Corps when my enlistment contract had expired. I then brought my wife and child to live in Southern Nevada.
When many more years had passed, I was sitting home one night watching television. Surfing the channels, I abruptly stopped on a national magazine show. There was Rex, Reginald Jenkins, the feature story.
After over twenty years, Rex’s conviction had finally been overturned. His wife, Naomi, was still waiting for Rex to be released from prison. I just knew when I met Naomi that she was one loyal wife to Rex..
The Marine Corps had to pay dearly for their most disgusting blunders.
In the case of Reginald and Naomi Jenkins, and their two children, the Marines were found culpable in both intentional and negligent torts.
Rex received an enormous settlement.
He received a lump sum payment of two and a quarter million dollars. His wife Naomi, received a lump sum payment of one and a half million dollars. Their two children, now adult-aged, shared three quarters of a million dollar settlement.
In addition, for Rex, the rank of Corporal with honorable service was restored. But, this was not all. The Marine Corps was also ordered to immediately promote Reginald Jenkins to the rank of Sergeant Major.
The Marine Corps was also ordered to retire Sergeant Major Jenkins with twenty-five years of honorable service with full pay and benefits.
Listening to this entire story on a national magazine show, I was thrilled for Rex and his family.
But, there was a very sad and tragic ending to this story. After only four months of freedom, Rex had a severe heart attack, and died at home, in the arms of his wife, Naomi.
In getting Rex's funeral arrangements in order, Naomi had asked the commanding officer of a Marine Reserve Center in her hometown to have their band play, “Taps”, “The Marine Corps Hymn”, and “Eternal Father” in both a remembrance of, and a tribute to Sergeant Major Reginald Jenkins.
But, her request was denied.
Naomi cried once again, just like she did when her husband was taken to prison for a crime he did not commit.
Naomi visits Rex’s grave every few days, without fail. Naomi had a beautiful headstone installed at Rex's gravesite. There were both the American and Marine Corps flags flying high. Naomi keeps fresh flowers on Rex’s gravesite.
It’s a beautiful place to visit if one should desire to pay their respects to a true awe-inspiring African-American man.
I came to learn that Sergeant Major Reginald Jenkins' gravesite is a place where many school-aged children of all ethnic groups take sponsored expeditions in learning about this U. S. Marine who stood for justice at all costs.
Return To Main Page
www.bradleychapline.com/
www.bradleychapline.com/