adinkrahene

Visionary Writer Showcases Literary Works

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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Nationwide — Author Jeffery “J. A.” Faulkerson announced the release of his literary anthology J. A. Faulkerson Reader: The Literary Works of a Contemporary, Black Visionary.  The book is currently available for online purchase through Amazon.com. 

Faulkerson, a former Tennessee State Secondary Athletic Association (TSSAA) long jump champion who graduated from Kingsport’s Dobyns-Bennett High School and the University of Tennessee, always knew he wanted to become a published author. So, when he published his debut novel Adinkrahene: Fear of a Black Planet in 2014, he breathed a sigh of relief. One of his lifelong goals had been achieved. The very next year, Adinkrahene was selected as one of three finalists for a Phillis Wheatley Book Award (in the First Fiction category), requiring him to travel to New York City’s Columbia University for an awards ceremony. He did not claim the top prize that night, but he became more confident in his ability to produce literary works that entertain, educate and enlighten.

Faulkerson’s J. A. Faulkerson Reader contains essays, poems, short stories and books produced over an 11-year period. He shares the trials and the triumphs associated with becoming an author, poet and screenwriter. He admonishes his contemporaries to become compassionate neighbors who have unconditional love and neighborly compassion in their hearts. He gifts adolescents and young adults, i.e., the Young Achievers, with a playbook that connects prosperity to the pursuit of greatness in the areas of Nurturing, Learning, Working and Leading.  He reminisces about the five years he spent as his son’s full-time stay-at-home parent, offering fathers and father figures strategies they can use to help their children develop championship mindsets.  And his poetry celebrates his Black ancestors’ legacy of activism, community and kinship, how their unrelenting fight for freedom, justice and fairness serves as the perfect model for how citizenries create more perfect unions. 

The J. A. Faulkerson Reader was published on October 17, 2025, and is 523 pages long.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. A. Faulkerson is a Northern Virginia-based Author, Poet and Screenwriter.  Many of his writings pay homage to the Black leaders of the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and ‘60s, individuals he calls compassionate neighbors because they were led by the unconditional love and neighborly compassion in their hearts.  He also has a heart for youth, evidenced by his years of service as a TRIO Upward Bound and YMCA Youth director.  Through his written and spoken words, he admonishes adolescents and young adults to balance their lives on the Four Pillars of Prosperity (i.e., Nurturing, Learning, Working and Leading).  A graduate of Dobyns-Bennett High School (Kingsport, Tennessee) and the University of Tennessee (Knoxville, Tennessee), J. A. has been happily married to his wife for over 32 years and is the proud father to his 21-year-old son. 

Subscribe to J. A. Faulkerson’s Writers’ Bloc Substack newsletter at https://jafaulkerson.substack.com/.

Follow J. A. Faulkerson on Instagram at https://www.instagram.com/jawritesbooks/.

Adinkrahene Book One Excerpt

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Unmasked AgentJONATHAN FRAISER

When I opened my eyes, I realized that I was back in my room. My bedroom window was open, so I could hear the rushing water from the underground stream flowing through the cavern and splashing against the craggy shore. But I also felt throbbing pain coming from the now closed incision that Doc had made at the base of my neck.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” It was Mr. Black.

I looked to my right expecting him to be standing in the bedroom doorway. I waited, but he never entered the room.

I sat up a little straighter on my bed.

“Hello,” I exclaimed. “Is anyone there?”

Silence, then, “We’re here, Jonathan.” It was Doc. “Just not there. We’re in your head.”

“How?”

Mr. Black said, “The Slipstream Disc implanted at the base of our necks allows us to telepathically and holographically communicate with each other.”

Doc added, “You’re now a walking smartphone, son.”

They instructed me to put on the black, form-fitting combat suit that had been placed next to me on the bed. I was to report to the training deck. When I arrived, other similarly dressed agents, about seventy-four in all, stood at attention along the edges of the training deck floor. One of the trainers waved me to an open spot.

The training deck floor was the size of a football field, the ceiling at least fifty stories high. I started to step into the spot that I had been directed to, but when I saw Big Nate, I decided to create a spot next to him. He extended his fist to me, and I bumped it with my own.

The ceiling panels slid to the side, and we Adinkrahene agents watched as Mr. Black and Doc slowly floated through the opening and the air to land in the center of the training deck floor. They were also dressed in black, form-fitting combat suits. There were plenty of oohs and aahs from the new agents, but not from me. I had seen it all before, with Selina. I just wanted to know what I had to do to access the kind of power they were displaying.

“Family,” Mr. Black began, pacing in front of us. Doc stood in the background, punching at the virtual buttons on his tablet. “The time has come for us to reveal ourselves to the world. For years, we have stood in the shadows as the Corporate Cabal has demonized us, members of the Black Diaspora. But I’m here to tell you those days are about to end. While we must still exist in the shadows, the time for us to exert more of our influence is now.”

We all applauded at that.

“Each of you has been fitted with a Slipstream Disc. This disc allows us to telepathically and holographically communicate with each other, but, more importantly, manipulate the electro-magnetic energy around us.”

We watched Doc toss his tablet into the air and then grab hold of it with some kind of energy beam to set it on a table twenty-five feet to his right, our left. He then pressed his fists together, extended his elbows out, and released a beam of solidified light from his elbows to his forearms that hit Mr. Black so hard that he was sent reeling across the room toward us. We scattered, thinking he was going to fall on us. But he didn’t. Instead, Mr. Black encased himself inside a cocoon of electro-magnetic energy to freeze his descent and stand himself upright again.

“Y’all see that,” he laughed, wagging his finger at his friend. “He sucker-punched me.”   He then raised his arm to fire two beams of solidified light at Doc. Doc erected a light shield to deflect the blasts.

Doc lifted his right arm to signify his surrender. The two men then met once more at center deck, where they joyfully embraced.

Mr. Black’s attention returned to us. “A great philosopher once said, ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ Seventy-five of you have received this power, one hundred of us all together. Now, you must decide how you will use it.” Mr. Black then used his right hand to form a light-blue energy ball. We all became mesmerized by the sight of it. “I believe the most righteous path for Adinkrahene is for our leaders to move more of our people from mediocrity to excellence. Each of us must do our part to build upon the work of Douglass, Dubois, X and King.”

He flung the energy ball toward the opened ceiling, where it exploded to give off something reminiscent of a fireworks display.

“But I must warn you, family. Misuse of these powers will not be tolerated. You must adhere to the Adinkrahene Way. That means you will not use this power to rule our enemies; you will use it to serve, protect humanity from itself. In short, you will use it to restore the Pangean Nation, where all of humanity is once again united in thought and purpose.”

Mr. Black brought his hands together as if in prayer. “Anyone found guilty of not abiding by this principle will be removed from The Grid. Understood.”

“Yes, sir,” we responded, in one voice.

Before any of us could receive the Slipstream Disc and be connected to The Grid, we had to pledge our allegiance to the Adinkrahene Reparations Management Syndicate. But we also received a warning about the Slipstream Disc. Implanting it on our persons was the easy part. However, if it had to be remotely disabled by the ninety-nine other Adinkrahene agents due to an agent’s selfishness, pride or greed, he, or she, would die instantly. To put this in layman’s terms, a disabled Slipstream Disc was equivalent to having one’s heart ripped from his chest. And we all know what that means.

No heart, no life.

Adinkrahene agents’ hearts beat as one due to our connection to The Grid. Black unity at its best. But as I stood there watching Big Nate and the other agents gleefully swarming around Mr. Black and Doc, I wondered why no one had suggested that Selina be disconnected from The Grid. Selfishness, pride and greed were clearly motivating her disregard for the Adinkrahene Way.

Selina had been one of my closest friends, so I knew that if a vote came up, I would have reservations about saying yea. Thus, I knew I had to locate Selina, talk some sense into her, before Mr. Black and the others forced me to change my vote so her kill switch could be activated.

Copyright 2014.  Jeffery A. Faulkerson.  All rights reserved.

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE ADINKRAHENE BOOK ONE EBOOK

Pancakes and Cartoons

/ J. A. Faulkerson / 1 Comment

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE J.A. FAULKERSON’S DEBUT NOVEL, ADINKRAHENE: FEAR OF A BLACK PLANET.

Jonny Quest

Saturday mornings used to be a time of discovery and bewilderment for me. As a young child growing up in Upper East Tennessee, I would wake up most mornings to pancakes and cartoons. As I ate the pancakes that my mother prepared for me, I allowed myself to get lost in the lives of these make-believe characters.  Some of my favorites were The Flintstones, Super Stretch and Mirco-Woman, Jonny Quest, The Jetsons, Scooby-Doo, Spider-Man and His Amazing Friends, Super Friends, and Clue Club, to name only a few. With the advent of Boomerang, at 46 years of age, I am discovering that I’m most creative when familiar voices and tunes can be heard in the background during my writing sessions.

Some would argue that being torn between the computer and television screens causes writers to lose their momentum when crafting stories. I wouldn’t argue with that. I undoubtedly would be even more productive if I didn’t take those quick glances to see Jonny and Hadje floating on a hovercraft with Race Bannon, their bodyguard. And Lord knows Fred and Barney’s verbal volleys turn quick glances into lingering ones. But for me, hearing their voices takes me to a place where life was much simpler, less stressful.

Saturday CartoonsMost of you know, I was raised by a once-poor, single-parent mother. You would think growing up in a low-income household would be more complex and stressful. But it wasn’t, at least for me. I was a daydreamer, and the Saturday morning cartoon line-ups on NBC, CBS and ABC enriched the dreams that I would have as I peered out the window of our two-story, subsidized apartment complex.

Because I am now using my time as a stay-at-home parent to more fervently pursue my writing career, I often find myself rushing to complete my daily five-page quota. Even as I write this blog entry, I worry about not reaching my daily goal. My time has been spent with you, not with the new novel that has nothing to do with my Adinkrahene series.  In a few hours, I have to pick my son up from summer day camp and then drop him off at a summer academic enrichment program. As his father, I want to put him in a position to have fun during his 10-week summer break, but then start the new school year with a head of steam.

Then there’s my wife’s honey-do list. At times, working through this list can take precedence over my writing. Yes, there are times when I balk. All I want to do is write, read, and watch old, black and white science-fiction movies on the Syfy Channel. But my primary job is to take care of things around the house so my working wife doesn’t have to. You’ll have to ask her, but I think I’m doing a pretty good job, most of the time.

But I digress.

The Saturday morning cartoon line-up made living in a low-income community bearable. Because I grew up in a small town in Upper East Tennessee, I was somewhat immune to the troubles plaguing major cities like Chicago, New York and Baltimore. But drugs like marijuana and cocaine were reportedly readily available to anyone who was willing to pay the piper. Some of the kids I grew up with were even recruited by irresponsible adults to become drug pushers. As I reflect on my life now, I realize my saving grace was my acceptance of Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, followed by my love for Saturday morning cartoons and comic books.

Super Stretch and Micro WomanWhile other kids were hanging out on the street on Saturday mornings, I was either watching shows like Super Stretch and Micro-Woman, or reading Richie Rich comic books. I also was getting into the habit of reading the Christian bible daily. At the time, I didn’t know these activities would lead to me wanting to become a professional writer. I was more concerned about going on an imaginary journey with the characters I saw on screen or read about in my comic books.

I even received cartoon fixes during the week. I still remember those days when I would come home from school to watch shows like Space Giants, Tom & Jerry and Woody Woodpecker. There was also the after-school specials on ABC that offered up inspiring stories about living life purposefully and responsibly.

The Saturday morning cartoon line-up introduced me to quirky characters. Some of the most quirky ones were George Jetson and Fred Flintstone, as well as Scooby-Doo and Shaggy. These characters are now considered icons because they were introduced during a time when life was, well, much simpler and less stressful. We didn’t have computers connected to the World Wide Web then. Our color television sets, with metal clothes hanger antennae, were our only conduits to the outside world.

DroopyThe Saturday morning line-up fueled my imagination, my love for writing novels and screenplays. When I went on these journeys with these imaginary characters, I felt like I was right there with them. It was great being there with Jonny Quest on a mission in a South American rain forest. It was also great being there with the mouse Jerry as he outsmarted the cat Tom for the umpteenth time, or hearing the dog Droopy say, “You know what?  I’m sad.”  These characters, and others, gave me an appreciation for showing not telling, as well as how to take your characters through a series of complications before reaching the climax.  That’s not to say, I’ve mastered these skills.  The road ahead is long, steep and winding.  I just want to be as creative as I can be so you can use your five senses to fully embrace the literary meals I have prepared, and continue to prepare, for you.

CLICK HERE TO PURCHASE J.A. FAULKERSON’S DEBUT NOVEL, ADINKRAHENE: FEAR OF A BLACK PLANET.

 

A Hard (Yet Not-So-Hard) Decision

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Combot

Combot from Adinkrahene: Fear of a Black Planet

All writers know we are never at a loss for content. Topics to write about are all around us. But 33 pages in to my first novel, Adinkrahene: Fear of a Black Planet, I almost felt compelled to toss it.

No one, especially unenlightened Whites, wanted to read about a syndicate of powerful, altruistic Blacks, I thought. They especially didn’t want to learn that these powerful, altruistic Blacks were God’s chosen people, humanity’s only hope against an imminent alien invasion.

The decision to forge ahead was initially a hard one. My visits to local bookstores and movie theaters left me disappointed. Very rarely did I find Science Fiction and Action and Adventure titles featuring African and African-American characters whose sole purpose was to save the day.  Most of the Black characters I read about or saw supported the efforts of White heroes.  And the fact that traditional publishers and the major Hollywood studios were slow to accept stories featuring strong, black characters had me thinking a market didn’t exist for these types of stories.

I decided to forge ahead because the story in my head had to be told. It had to cast powerful, altruistic Blacks in more powerful roles. It also had to shine a light on the racial politics that work to demonize members of the Black Diaspora so unenlightened Whites will have an easier time justifying their racist attitudes and actions.

I know the story isn’t going to sit well with some of my unenlightened white brothers and sisters. In this story, I assert that the Republican Party has been co-opted by the Corporate Cabal, and the Corporate Cabal is being manipulated by the spawns of Satan, for crying out loud. But because my story plays on the prejudicial behavior of some members of the Republican Party, it’s easy for most Americans to see why I would try to make such a connection. A party who prides itself in respecting all Americans’ individual rights to life, liberty and happiness is wanting to impose policies that deny these same rights to racial/ethnic minorities, women, college students and immigrants.

And it is my contention that the Devil is making them do it.

Today’s Republican Party supports the implementation of tougher voter restriction laws, even though studies show voter fraud has never been a problem.

Today’s Republican Party voted over 50 times to repeal and replace the Affordable Care Act, which, to date, is serving over eight million Americans.

Today’s Republican Party questions the legitimacy of America’s first, black president, saying no to his proposals even though most, if not all, of his proposals originated with Republican legislators and/or Conservative thought leaders.

Today’s Republican legislators speak disparagingly about African Americans, women, college students and immigrants at town hall meetings and fundraisers, even though their own 2012 post-election autopsy showed they stand on the side of the 1 percent and place profits over people.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why they are taking these extreme positions.  First, and foremost, they are trying to fan the white resentment that exists in this country.  Unenlightened Whites resent the fact that African Americans were “given stuff” following the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964.  What they consistently fail to consider is the maltreatment that led up to the passage of this piece of legislation.  Africans brought to this country against their will to serve as slaves, or uncompensated laborers.  African Americans being treated like second-class citizens because of Jim Crow legislation.  Black children being taught in inferior classrooms.  And black men and boys being shot dead or hung from trees after being deemed threats by unenlightened white men.

Yes, I choose to go there.  And I’m not ashamed or deterred.  But please know that the intent of this series is not to infuriate you.  My intent is to awaken a racially diverse coalition of readers to the racial politics that the Conservative Movement is using to divide us, get us to regress rather than progress.  Through my words, I want to unite us in thought and purpose by showing you how the agents of the Adinkrahene Reparations Management Syndicate (ARMS) work with their like-minded brothers and sisters to push back alien Satanic forces.

The electronic version (Retail Price: $3.99) of Adinkrahene: Fear of a Black Planet is available now through Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing.  The print version (Retail Price: $7.99) is also available, albeit through Amazon’s Createspace.  The Adinkrahene story arc will be completed in Adinkrahene: Fear of a Beloved Community and Adinkrahene: Fear of an Alien Presence.

Thank you in advance for your purchase of Adinkrahene: Fear of a Black Planet, as well as your ongoing prayers and support.

ADINKRAHENE!  Or I wish you well in your quest to consistently display great, charismatic leadership.

Excerpt # 2 from ADINKRAHENE: Fear of a Black Planet

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“We were through two years into our marriage,” Selina exclaimed.  “Found out he had been cheating on me when the Bulls were on the road.  One of his tricks gave him herpes.”

We were seated at a table in Sweet Georgia Brown’s Soul Food Restaurant.  Smooth jazz emanated through the room as patrons either claimed or relinquished their tables.  I was pleased to see that Selina had changed from her pant suit to a yellow and white summer dress with a low-hanging front.  Selina smiled when she spotted me staring at her rack.       

“That had to hurt,” I replied.  My tongue took another swipe at the rib meat lodged in my back teeth.   

“You haven’t changed one bit.”  Selina tugged at the top of her dress.  “Those eyes of yours are still as shifty as ever.”

I chuckled as I rested my arms on the table. 

She continued, “I always liked you, J.  I know I used to give you a hard time about being so quiet, but you were always good to me.  I think of you often, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Really.  I even subscribed to the Post when the Bureau relocated me to Los Angeles.  You’re an excellent writer.  Loving your new book.  It is opening my eyes to how unchecked power corrupts.” 

“Glad to hear that,” I said, leaning in.  “But I know you didn’t invite me here just to talk about my book.  What’s up?”

Selina breathed in deeply.  “I’m living in D.C. now, J,” she whispered.  “Been here two weeks.  Working a new assignment.  Cold case division.”  She took another deep breath.  “That’s why I’m here, J.  We just reopened one of those cases, the one I told you about at UT.”

“The one involving your grandmother?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’re going to be fighting an uphill battle, girl.  I profiled Shuler for the Post, remember?  When his father Watson retired from the Senate.  The man is squeaky clean.”

“But no one has ever been able to explain how my grandmother’s body was pulled from the river in Montgomery when she had just gotten off work in Jackson.  Remember, she never got on that two o’clock bus, J.  Two and half months passed before they found her body.” 

I noticed tears welling up in Selina’s eyes.  “I was invited to the press conference as one of their special guests.  But I’m tired of maintaining this façade, like everything is alright between us.  It’s not.  I’m just trying to keep my enemies closer than my friends.  Did his announcement surprise me?  Hell, yeah, it did.  But I should have seen it coming.”  Selina breathed in deeply as she used her napkin to wipe at her eyes.  “This new assignment gives me the resources and authority to take him down, J.  I’m also aligned with a group that believes better days are ahead for people like you and me.  We just need a little help from a political insider.  You game?”

Selina placed her napkin back on the table.      

She continued, “The American Dream – the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness – is nothing but a façade, J.  A façade that has been created to keep us in check, line the pockets of rich white men.  Taking the Shulers’ down gets us one step closer to exposing what my benefactor calls the Corporate Cabal.”

Selina then reached into her purse to pull out a metallic business card with aluminum wording and graphics.  She placed it on the table in front of me.

“What’s this?” I asked, studying the card.  On one side of the card was the image of one, smaller, red circle inside two larger ones.  A telephone number was centered in black on the other side.

“Call that number,” Selina exhorted as she stood.  “With your help, Kyle Shuler will finally pay for what he did to my grandmother.”  Then, as she turned to leave, “We know it as the Adinkrahene symbol.  Google it when you get home.  Once you take this first step, our hope is you will be more open to what we have to say.”

Copyright 2014 by Jeffery A. Faulkerson.  All rights reserved.

Excerpt from ADINKRAHENE: Fear of a Black Planet

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Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave

Unpublished Excerpt

April 19, 1843

I write this letter under the cloak of darkness.  I am a free man, an abolitionist, residing in the northern American states.  But now that I have gazed into the eyes of the enemy, I am once again bound, by fear.

The enemy I speak of is not of this world.  I can make this claim because I traveled to their world through something my green-skinned friend Daygon calls the Intergalactic Connector.  The Intergalactic Connector allows Satarians – that’s what they call themselves – to travel to and from other planets, teleport away from detection or danger.

As I watched them from an underground Satarian overlook – with Daygon by my side – I concluded that the Satarians are vile creatures.  Besides having green skins and forked tongues, they also stand at least ten feet tall, both male and female.  Physiologically, their bodies resemble our own.

Daygon told me that his people were created by Lucifer, or Satan, as full grown adults days after Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden.  The Satarian race was created for the sole purpose of taking possession of the Earth to rule over us, its inhabitants.  I asked Daygon why his people did not invade our planet immediately after our foreparents’ expulsion from Eden, and he said it was because of people who look like me, the descendants of Africa.

It was then that Daygon recounted mankind’s origins.  According to Daygon, Adam was created in God’s image, from the dark African sands of Eden.  Adam was a black man.  Because there was no suitable helpmate for Adam, God created Eve from one of Adam’s ribs.  Because Eve came directly from Adam, she was black as well.

Supernatural forces were at work during Adam and Eve’s residency in the Garden of Eden. Their first act of sexual intimacy in Eden caused a tidal wave of creative, electro-magnetic energy to cascade beyond Eden’s borders and across the nation of Pangea. Adam’s sperm and Eve’s eggs mingled with Eden’s embryonic sands to spread through the Pangean nation, producing multi-colored humans that spoke a common language. They would continue to speak this common language until God confounded them. They had disobeyed God by constructing a tower to get closer to Him.  This construct came to be known as the Tower of Babel.

The Satarians’ infiltration into human culture became more purposeful and strategic fifty years before the Babylonians built their tower to God.  This was a time when everyone in Babel was united in thought and purpose.  Its citizens also believed in the one, true God.  But it was a time when embedded Satarians laid the groundwork for dividing and conquering the united Pangean nation.  Lucifer reminded the most loyal members of his sect that a kingdom divided cannot stand.

Masquerading as lighter-skinned Babylonians, they convinced other lighter-skinned Babylonians that they were better than the darker-skinned ones.  Thus began a race to the top, with the victorious racial group being allowed to offer up its own version of world history and humanity’s relationship with the one, true God.

After God confounded their language and scattered them across the Earth, members of the lighter-skinned group committed themselves to ruling over their darker-skinned siblings.  The Satarians in their midst provided them with the advanced weaponry they needed to subvert the darker-skinned groups.  They were also able to create tools and devices that revolutionized the way humanity lived, worked and played.  And if and when they saw something interesting that was created by members of the darker-skinned groups, they claimed it as their own.

Daygon said there are other residents on Sataria who do not want to invade Earth.  They would much rather use the Intergalactic Connector to explore other planets in the universe.  Taking such a position is considered blasphemy to the leaders of the Satarian Empire, for it is a demonstration of affection for the one, true God.  Lucifer wants to prove to all creation that he is God’s better.  However, achieving this lofty goal was made even more difficult when many of the early blasphemers deserted his camp.  They used their Intergalactic Connectors to escape Sataria and build peace-loving colonies on other habitable worlds.

My African brothers and sisters, I received confirmation from Daygon that we are God’s chosen people, the instruments that God is using to thwart Lucifer’s schemes.  Daygon told me that Lucifer directed his minions to remove many of us from Africa so our minds would be fixated on our victimization and not on discovering the source of our strength.

That source is Eden, Daygon says.  And it is located somewhere in Africa.  Find it, and you will know power like you have never known before.

Our beautiful, black bodies are supernaturally linked to Eden.  Therefore, I tend to believe our best days are ahead of us, not behind.  The natural sons and daughters of Eden will rise up again to provide the charismatic leadership that this world needs to rebuild the Pangean nation.  To rebuild the Beloved Community of equals.

Adinkrahene!

 

Copyright 2014 by Jeffery A. Faulkerson.  All rights reserved.

Coming Soon from Novelist J.A. Faulkerson

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ADINKRAHENE: Fear of a Black Planet

IN A WORLD WHERE AMERICA HAS ELECTED ITS FIRST, BLACK PRESIDENT, A NEW GENERATION OF HEROES MUST ARISE TO UNITE A DIVIDED KINGDOM.

When Mississippi Senator Kyle Shuler announces his bid to unseat presidential incumbent Herbert Newsom, America’s first, black president, Washington Post political reporter Jonathan Fraiser is miffed.  He knows Senator Shuler’s dirty, little secret – that he and two of his friends murdered an elderly, black woman as teenagers.  But Jonathan isn’t the only person disturbed by Shuler’s announcement. His longtime friend Selina Giles, an FBI agent, was eleven years old when Shuler slit her grandmother’s throat.  Now, Jonathan and Selina must join forces as Adinkrahene agents to prevent a Jim Crow criminal from becoming the leader of the free world.