Beverly points to me; it’s time to address the crowd. I have my comments folded in my hand, but I don’t open them when I get to the microphone. I speak from the heart.

“I know you’re all scared. I’m real scared, too. My mama—” I point to Mama. She’s gripping her purse tight. “My mama’s scared. Even though she don’t let y’all know. But someone’s out there who might know more about what’s going on with my brother, Jamal, and my daddy, James Beaumont. Some of you even testified as an alibi for him, so you know my daddy wasn’t where they say he was.”

There’s a hush in the room. Each person hanging on to my words. My breath is labored, emotional, but I’m trying to hold it in because Daddy’s bigger than life to me. Bigger than anything in our house, our family. He takes up so much space, and he’s not even here. The way they watch, I know it’s because they feel bad for me. For Mama. But the room is filled with those who also don’t know how to feel about my daddy.

There are moments when my thoughts are a betrayal to him. Uncertainty wrapping itself around me, poisoning my mind. But out here, visible to the world, there are no doubts about my daddy’s innocence.

“Last night that cross burning wasn’t just a message to my family. A statement was being made to our community. People outing themselves to let us all know what place we supposed to take. There’s a hate group growing in our community. Recruiting people. We can’t let our town, our home, be threatened by violence. By hatred. My father went to prison, not because of guilt, but because it was easy to think an outsider like a Black man killed the Davidsons. Now that generational curse is passing down to my brother. The son…of a ‘killer’ must be a killer.”

My voice catches. I take a breath to calm myself.

“But we can stop it. We can be vigilant and look out for each other. And now my father has a second chance. Some of you know about Innocence X and what they do. Well, a representative is here tonight because he’s working on my daddy’s appeal. Many of you were here when my daddy went through his trial. Some of you even shared or tried to share information with the police, but they didn’t follow up. This is your chance to right that wrong. Retrace that time seven years ago. Every memory is important. He’s a good man. An innocent man. And he has less than two hundred and fifty days to live. If you know something, anything, please help us free my daddy. Free James.”

The audience rises, fists up, and chants, “Free James. Free James. Free James.”