Free The Committee by Terry E. Hill

reported. Spalding was a school board member for more than a decade at the Los Angeles Unified School District and was then appointed to the City Planning Commission. Friends and colleagues said, “He was a pillar of this community. His whole family is so involved in Los Angeles politics, and he was a really good friend.”
    â€œWe’re all so shocked by this very tragic death,” said Mayor Camille Hardaway. “John was an extremely friendly, hardworking, good family man,” she said. “He was always cheerful, upbeat and down-to-earth. I once saw John walk clear across the street to pick up trash someone left in the road because that was the kind of man he was. He always tried to help make Los Angeles the best city it could be.” The mayor called Spalding’s death a terrible tragedy for everyone in the community.
    Spalding has been in the news lately because of his very public opposition to the mayor’s plans for the new Dober Stadium. He was recently quoted as saying, “I am completely opposed to this waste of taxpayer money. It is nothing more than the mayor laying the foundation for her run for governor at the expense of taxpayers.” Spalding went on to say, “Camille Hardaway will only build this travesty over my dead body.”
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    Spalding is survived by his twenty-three-year-old daughter and his wife, Mayra. Spalding’s roots run deep in Los Angeles. His father, Tony, was the city clerk and his aunt, Maria Ribeiro, was the city treasurer. LAPD are investigating the crash along with the California Highway Patrol. The cause of the crash has not been determined.
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    â€œOh . . . my . . . God . . . This is perfect!” Sheridan shouted bursting into the bedroom. “Camille, look at this!”
    Sheridan ran across the room with his white bathrobe trailing behind like a cape, and silk boxers barely containing his flapping member. It was just before 6:00 a.m. when the Sunday paper was delivered on their doorstep with a thud. Camille propped herself onto her elbows in bed and shook the remains of sleep from her head.
    â€œYou are not going to fucking believe this,” Sheridan said, tossing the front page in her lap. “John Spalding got himself killed,” he said excitedly.
    Camille felt a quiver travel through her body.
    â€œHe crashed on Wilshire and went off the overpass onto the freeway. Died instantly. This is fucking amazing.”
    Camille reached for her reading glasses from the nightstand and read silently. As the print leapt from the front page, she could see the flickering black candle in her mind.
    An autopsy is scheduled, authorities confirmed. Police said Spalding was driving west on Wilshire Boulevard when, for unknown reasons, his car spun out of control on the overpass above the 405 Freeway, crashed through the cement rail, and plummeted onto the roadway below. Fortunately, the freeway was empty at the early-morning hour and no other persons were injured in the crash.
    This was the third time Camille had relied on Gillette to “handle” a vexing political problem. Her chief rival, who threatened to unseat her in her second mayoral race, dropped dead from a heart attack only days after it was announced he was gaining on her in the polls. The police officer who tried to blackmail her with information that would have surely cost her the mayor’s office, and possibly land her in federal prison, was found dead of “natural causes” a week after he boldly asked for half-a-million dollars in hush money. Each “death” . . . courtesy of Gillette and her black candle.
    â€œI guess he was right,” Sheridan said standing over Camille as she read silently.
    â€œRight about what?” she asked, never looking up from the paper.
    â€œHe said you would only be able to build the stadium over his dead body.”
    â€œDon’t be crude,” she snapped.
    â€œI’m not being crude. It’s