Locked Up and Locked Out

Pamela Barnes never thought she and her sisters would be sitting in a cold, dirty holding cell for trying to protect her family’s land. 

Just before sunset around 6:30 a.m., the 63-year-old gazed at the white walls’ chipped and peeling paint. Her eyes moved to the rusty, mold-covered vent above her. Her discomfort was eased a little by the presence of her sisters, Levarie Cloudy, 67, and Rosalind Stotts, 65, as they waited in the Shelby County Sheriff’s Office in rural Center, Texas, a majority-white town of 5,200 residents near the Louisiana border.

But sitting in the cell for hours felt unbearable.

Claustrophobia set in as Barnes and Cloudy, a military veteran, tried to fight the lingering effects of post-traumatic stress. Cloudy had been denied access to a phone call twice, while Barnes was only able to briefly call her husband to inform him she wouldn’t make his doctor’s appointment.

While in custody, Barnes felt her body shut down.

“I didn’t eat for two days. I have not been able to sleep properly. I have not been able to concentrate,” Barnes told Capital B a week after they were booked on Sept. 4.

They waited hours for a judge to arrive and read them their rights. They didn’t get released until sometime after 2 p.m.

The three sisters and their 48-year-old cousin Gabriel Williams turned themselves into the Shelby County Sheriff’s Office after warrants were issued for their arrests. Williams was booked on Sept. 6. The department issued the warrants after local Constable Roy Cheatwood alleged they had tampered with their own water wells on their property, known as Williams Landing in nearby Joaquin, Texas. Joaquin, a town in the eastern part of the state, is 59% white, mostly conservative, and about 15 miles away from Center, where they were being held.

For the past year, the Williams family have been in a legal — and sometimes verbal — fight to take back their land from Cheatwood, a white elected official who they said took it by exploiting and deceiving a relative. The family alleged the constable improperly purchased it “with an invalid deed with the signature of only one heir without a proper description of what tract of land was allegedly conveyed to him,” according to a lawsuit they filed against him in Shelby County District Court. They are now seeking help pay for legal fees through GoFundMe. 

The family told Capital B that the official has verbally threatened them, kicked them off their land, reported them to law enforcement officials, surveilled them, gave a tenant permission to build a structure on their property, and collected rent payments from their tenants. They say they’ve been to the sheriff’s department three times to report Cheatwood. 

But, Cheatwood, who has served as District 3 constable since 2016, contends that Barnes and her relatives, who inherited the land, don’t own their uncle Junior Williams’ lot. According to court filings, Cheatwood claims that he owns Junior’s interest in the land, which he purchased about three months before Junior’s death in October. Barnes and her sisters, however, accused Cheatwood of coercing Junior to sell his land. They said their uncle — a Vietnam War veteran struggling with cancer and substance abuse — was not in a mental state to consent to an agreement with the constable. 

Cheatwood’s then-attorney John Price, who also is the attorney for Shelby County, denied the allegations in court filings. 

“Roy Cheatwood would respectively show that he properly purchased all of the land and the fractional interest owned by Junior Lee Williams,” the court filing said. 

The Williams family is one of many Black families suffering from the consequences of heirs’ property, which is property or land passed down without a will. This disproportionately affects Black families in the rural South because their ancestors were subject to violence or dispossession, excluded from estate planning resources, or they didn’t trust white lawyers during the time of few Black attorneys. The U.S. Department of Agriculture calls heirs’ property “the leading cause of Black involuntary land loss.” In some cases, families like the Williams say they experience intimidation, violence, and racism from those in power trying to seize their land. 

Despite the Williams family’s efforts to reach local and national news outlets and civil rights organizations, they told Capital B they have felt ignored. 

The family has faced roadblocks both in and out of the courts, and it’s been nearly impossible to make any progress. Their city, county, state, and federal officials, including the prosecutors, are mostly white. With a lack of Black representation, there are concerns of whether the outcomes in court would go in their favor. 

In Joaquin, where the property is located, there’s no police department. The constable, who is elected by residents, serves as the next line of defense. The family says they feel trapped at every turn, with the courts stalling and the lack of response to emails or phone calls from their attorney, Aaron Bryant. The lawsuit is still in the early stages of the process. Bryant declined an interview and referred Capital B to his clients.

They also say their recent arrest was a retaliatory act by Price, the county attorney who served as counsel for Cheatwood in the lawsuit. Five months after the lawsuit was filed, Price submitted a motion to recuse himself as Cheatwood’s attorney. The family says they filed a complaint against Price with the State Bar of Texas, alleging a direct conflict of interest. Price is married to District Attorney Karren Price, who the family says sent a verbal order to the local sheriff’s department to take only the Williams family to jail if they’re seen on any part of the property. The family says the order didn’t apply to Cheatwood, who they say still comes and goes as he wishes. 

Neither Cheatwood nor his new attorney, Craig Fletcher, responded to Capital B’s requests for comment. 

Karren Price declined to comment due to an ongoing investigation, even after Capital B shared the allegations. 

Capital B emailed John Price the direct accusations made against him and his wife of conspiring against the Williamses. After initially declining to comment due to attorney client privilege, he issued a statement, writing: “I can state the allegations being made by the Williams family are ridiculous and totally without merit.”

Despite the challenges, the family isn’t backing down.

A racist past never leaves

The family originally owned 147 acres in 1950. It cost Andrew Williams, Barnes’ grandfather, more than a simple cash payment of $7,000 to own it. It took his blood, sweat, and tears. He had to work the land to pay it off. He paid a down payment of $3,000 and financed the rest, Barnes said. He paid $500 on October 1, 1950, and $500 each year until it was satisfied. 

Then, he received the deed. 

He and his wife, Acie Richard-Williams, used the land to farm and feed their family. They’ve hosted family reunions, memorials, and gatherings to fish on the property, which includes a lake. They have trailer camps and a boat launch that they rent out to generate income to pay for the upkeep of the water wells and property taxes. They’ve never sold property to anyone outside of the family, except to the Sabine River Authority, which purchased 50 or so acres needed to build a dam. 

Since that purchase, there are currently 91 acres with more than 50 heirs who have an undivided fractional interest in the property. When the landowner dies without a written will, their assets, including land, will be divided up among their descendants if there are two or more individuals who own the entire property together. If there isn’t a clear title of ownership, heirs cannot sell the property or use it for collateral or financing. In the case of the Williams family, they don’t have any title issues and have clear land ownership, Barnes said.

Even though Barnes and her relatives inherited the property, most of them moved away due to the racism and prejudice they experienced growing up in Shelby County, they said. One of their great uncles, David Williams, was lynched in Center for allegedly saying something to a white woman at a local store, Barnes said. 

When their cousin Gabriel Williams moved to a nearby town in 2018, he had to explain to the white residents who live near their property why he was visiting, fishing, or hunting near their land. 

“There’s several times that I had to call their mom, which is my aunt, to call these people … because they wanted to kick me off the bank from fishing, or they don’t want me down there,” Gabriel said. “[They claimed] I’m trespassing. I’m doing this. Then, she had to explain to them who I am to every single resident.”

When Barnes’ mother, Lee Vern, passed away in 2021, multiple family members stepped up to manage the property, particularly Junior Williams and his niece Accie Smith, who were raised in the same household together. That’s when Cheatwood’s attempts to befriend Junior began, they say. 

“When my mother was managing that property [before her death], she would not let [Cheatwood] put a trailer down there. She would not rent a spot to him at all because her thing was she didn’t trust him,” Barnes said. “Soon as she passed, he started to work on our uncle.”

After Cheatwood informed the family he’d rented a lot from Junior, they signed a lease agreement with him in February 2023. The relationship between Cheatwood and Junior caused friction in the family because they allege he took advantage of him due to his mental and physical condition and isolated him from his family. 

Months before Junior’s death, Junior signed  a warranty deed for his share to Accie Smith on April 3, 2023, they told Capital B. A warranty deed is a legal document that provides the new owner protection against outstanding liens on the property or any future claims to the title of the property by other individuals.

When Cheatwood found out, Barnes said he had a confrontation with Smith. A few days later, they said Cheatwood took Junior to an attorney to get a will on April 28, 2023. About two months later, on June 30, Junior did a special warranty deed, which is often used for commercial property, to Cheatwood, according to the family. A special warranty deed is less comprehensive, and offers less protection to the new owner. 

“In residential property, special warranty deeds are frequently used in foreclosures and the forced sale of the property to satisfy a debt,” according to Investopedia. When the family learned Cheatwood attempted to purchase Junior’s interest in the land, they tried in November in trial court to evict him from the property, according to a court petition. Barnes and the Williams heirs filed a citation against Cheatwood  in the Precinct 3 Justice Court in Shelby County. The attempt failed due to the judge dismissing the case, they said. According to a complaint filed with the State Commission on Judicial Court, the family members claimed Judge Tracy Broadway, who oversaw the eviction hearing, denied them the opportunity to speak. Rather than speak on the eviction, the family stated the judge allowed John Price to question the family about the deed related to Junior’s land, the complaint said.

“He abruptly dismissed the hearing without allowing me to give testimony, present evidence, or make statements regarding the breached lease agreement,” Barnes wrote to the commission following the hearing last November. “This hearing was not to determine the legality of a deed but to determine the EVICTION of a tenant.”

The state judicial commission confirmed receipt of the complaint in a letter to Barnes on Nov. 27. It stated the allegations would receive “a thorough review and investigation. …After its consideration, the Commission may dismiss a complaint, impose sanctions against a judge or take other appropriate action.”

She says she has not heard back from the judicial commission.

The fight to keep going

When Junior passed away in October, the family told Capital B, the efforts to surveil, follow, and intimidate family members ramped up, as they pursued the lawsuit and attempted to evict Cheatwood. Barnes recalled being followed by a white man at the car wash, which led to a confrontation at the gas station. There have been several confrontations on the property between the Williams family and Cheatwood that have led to the sheriff’s department being called. Gabriel Williams says he had been surrounded and chased off the property. Most of the tenants no longer pay the family, either, even though they supply water and pay other bills. Now, Cheatwood collects the payments.

The tension came to a head on Sunday, Aug. 11.

The week prior, Cloudy, Barnes, and Gabriel met with Pixie Water Wells to ensure their two water wells were in compliance with the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality. They learned there was a leak, and “somebody had been messing with the well,” the specialist said. They paid Pixie Water $400 to fix one well, but the second well, which previously had been fixed, still had a major leak. Barnes placed a notice on the door to inform the tenants that the water would be turned off temporarily. They made sure to lock it up per TCEQ requirements.

When Gabriel went to check on the well, he found the note removed and the lock cut off. He replaced the lock the following day, only to find out it had been cut off again on Aug. 11. 

On that evening, several family members were called to the property, and a heated argument ensued between the family and Cheatwood, and the sheriff’s office reported to the scene. Later that evening, Gabriel, Barnes, and Stotts voluntarily gave a statement to the sheriff’s office.

The sheriff’s office put out a statement the following day. “There were numerous allegations made of criminal conduct of the Williams tampering with the well, as well as allegations of Official Oppression on Constable Cheatwood.” The agency referred the case to the Texas Rangers, the criminal division of the Texas Department of Public Safety, to conduct an investigation into the allegations surrounding Cheatwood. 

Three weeks later, Barnes, Cloudy, Stotts, and Gabriel were served arrest warrants for allegedly tampering with a water well. They were all charged with criminal mischief, a misdemeanor. Gabriel had a felony charge tacked on for evading arrest. Capital B reached out to the Shelby County Sheriff’s Office for information regarding the arrests. Initially, they said they didn’t handle the case and had no previous arrests for the four family members. 

By the end of the exchange, Leah Chase, administrative secretary for the sheriff’s office, sent over booking sheets for each individual. Capital B later found out Cloudy had been arrested and requested her booking sheet as well. 

The four are set to appear in Shelby County court on Oct. 15 at 8:30 a.m. on the criminal mischief charge — where John Price will reside as county attorney. A court date is still pending for Gabriel’s felony charge. 

What started out as a battle in court to get back Junior’s land has turned into misdemeanor and felony charges that could stick with the Williams family for the rest of their lives. For Gabriel, who works at a gas station and runs two poll precincts, it could affect his ability to work those jobs.

“I have to have a liquor license for that in the state of Louisiana. If you get charged or you or if you’re convicted of any felony, you cannot hold a liquor license for 10 years,” he said. “I couldn’t get a job in any restaurant, which is what I’ve done for the past 26 years. … I’m 48 years old, and never had a felony in my life, and I’ve lived in so many places that I get back here where it’s supposed to be Southern hospitality, it’s left the South.”

Because of the incident, Barnes and Cloudy said their names had been smeared throughout the community. Rumors traveled that the two sisters went to jail for fighting each other. Above all else, Barnes is fearful about who may follow her when she travels. Cloudy, who takes heart, anxiety, and PTSD medication, said it’s been difficult to eat, sleep or drink.

“This has been embarrassing, not to mention worried about us going to court [for a lawsuit and criminal charges],” Cloudy said. “It’s like you’re scared to open the door because of my PTSD. You don’t know who’s going to stop you, or if you’re going to make it back home.”

No matter what lies ahead, they said they will keep fighting.

“I want other families to know if your parents, forefathers, or whomever, they sweated blood and tears for you to have an inheritance. Fight it. Go to whatever lengths you have to,” Barnes said. “Do not give it away, but fight because it’s your right.”