Legal Injustice: In My Brother's Shadow

$14.95 / Perfectbound

ISBN: 9781457539251
232 pages

$4.99 / e-Book
ISBN: 9781457543388

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When a poor Missouri hill farmer’s wife leaves him and his three children for another man, the oldest son takes on the responsibility of helping his already overworked father raise his younger siblings at age ten. Battling the shame of small town rumors, gossip, and poverty, the oldest son earns his family the respect of their townsmen through athletic and military heroism as he grows older, only to see it torn apart by a spoiled rich kid who inherits most of the town from his wealthy grandfather. Out of boredom and greed, this spoiled young man devises a plan to seduce the whole county into growing massive amounts of marijuana to supply the most corrupt men in this country’s underworld.


About Kevin Montgomery

Kevin Montgomery is the proud father of eight children—five sons and three daughters. He resides on his family farm in the Ozarks of Missouri, and he’s in love with the geographical area and the history that surrounds it.



While gazing across the yard of tall grass, Momma Joyce said, “The first men in our family who crossed the Mississippi River found a mosquito-infested swamp they called Misery. The original inhabitants of this unforgiving land were weak in stamina and lacked character. They just quit, gave up. When their mules finally cleared the mud and stagnant Mississippi flood waters at the foothills of the Ozark Mountains, our ancestors said goodbye to all our dreams and doomed us to live in misery!”

I guess Momma Joyce was right, because Grayson, Tyler, and I grew up with our daddy in the same house our granddad was born in. My daddy, Justin Grayson Jamerson, was an uncommonly handsome man. He had coal black hair, a strong chin, and deeply tanned leather-like skin that was wrinkled beyond his years. Daddy worked all day on the farm, and at night he would fix old cars. His hands were rough and dirty. He smelled of sweat most of the time. Daddy was a tall, slender man with the gentlest sky blue eyes that always seemed to say everything was going to be fine—except things were not fine. Momma Joyce hated the farm, hated Missouri, and thought all the Jamerson men were losers. She would always say, “Someday I am going to go finish the trip our weak, discouraged forefathers started. I’m gonna go to California, where a pretty girl is appreciated.”


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