“It’s the morning of the third day and Mama’s holding my hand like if she holds it tight enough he’ll be saved. Every hour it gets hotter. Mama starts praying out loud. All at once there’s hollers from the courthouse. Mama stops, and then she looks way off, and I can see her shrink. Then there’s more shouting and people are running up and down the steps and that fat bag of guts Naylor and the snake-eyed sonofabitch that was with him are gettin’ slapped on the back and some man in a straw hat’s reached his hand through a car window to blast his horn like he’s driving back from a football game. They’re bringing my daddy and uncle through the crowd in handcuffs. Daddy’s staring straight ahead. He don’t want to look at us, don’t want to break down. I try running to him. Mama pulls me back. I’m fighting but she won’t let go. I just watch them drag him off until I can see him no more.

“I start cryin’ in front of all those white folks. Courthouse is just a blur, but I don’t wipe ’em. Don’t want to see nothing. Then through the blur there’s Hargrave comin’ down the steps. A big redneck farmer shouts, ‘Praise God, Judge.’ The blur clears and I see Hargrave turn to the farmer. What’s he gonna say, I wonder, this man who’s killing Daddy. But he don’t say nothing. Just nods and smiles, like he was strollin’ past our shop with that girl of his. By the time he slammed his car door and drove off I told myself I’d grow up to kill him.”

Near us an old man in an outsized coat shuffled through lengthening shadows. Lee stared ahead, oblivious. “Next day Mama takes me to the jail. It’s dark. Daddy’s in a corner watching the floor. When he sees us he comes to the bars reaching his hand through saying, ‘Come here, Otis,’ and bending down. I come, but I can’t say nothin’. He takes hold of my hand. I just hold it, thinkin’ how rough it is and how my hand almost disappears. He says, ‘You watch over your mama, Otis,’ looking so sad it’s hardly like him. Then he lets go my hand and calls Mama over to the side. ‘Don’t bring him again,’ I hear him say. ‘Can’t stand him seeing me like this.’ Mama’s eyes turn wet and she puts her arm around me and sort of shepherds me out. Daddy stands with his back turned until we’re gone. That’s the last thing I ever saw—his back.