I want Jamal to come home. But if he doesn’t, the cops are taking him in. When they took Daddy from our house, that was the last time we saw him not behind bars. Except in the courtroom. I used to pretend he was the lawyer, all suited up, trying someone’s case. I couldn’t pretend that any longer when the decision guilty crossed the lips of every juror.

Jamal is in the same boat now, and things don’t look good. But I have to believe I know my brother better than anyone. Then prove it to the world before it swallows him whole.

Friday, May 7

Stephen Jones, Esq.

Innocence X Headquarters

1111 Justice Road

Birmingham, Alabama 35005

Re: Death Penalty—Intake Department

Dear Mr. Jones,

“Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

This saying is etched outside your main office. I saw it in all your photos. I got a question: Dr. King wrote this and Obama believed it, but how can it be true if it seems like everything is going backward? Does it mean a hundred years from now someone else won’t go through the same pain that my family’s been through? Because if that’s what you believe, then what about me? What about my family? Do I have to lose my daddy? My brother? Because if people just wait enough years, laws will change. I’m not trying to be funny. I really want to know. Because right now I’m looking for something to make me feel hopeful, and I’ve got nothing.

Please review James Beaumont’s application (#1756).

Thank you for your time.

Tracy Beaumont

FAMILY MATTERS

On Saturday morning, I visit Tasha’s to catch up on school the past few days, but when I enter her house, I can feel the tension. I don’t know what I walked into, but they act like I’m not even here. Everyone is gathered in the kitchen.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Tasha says.

“We’ll see about what I can and can’t do,” Daddy Greg says.

“You gonna be around long enough to make sure I don’t?”

“I’m not taking this shit from you. You might have got away with this before, but I’m not letting you talk like this in my house.”

“Your house? Ha! I’ve paid as much of the bills as you, more even.”

“Tasha, you stop this right now,” Tasha’s mom says. “The both of you. I won’t have this talk in my house. Let’s be clear. This is my house. Besides, we got guests. Tracy don’t wanna hear this bickering when she got bigger things to think about.”

She wraps her arms around me, holding me tight. “Excuse their manners, Tracy.”

“Sorry, I just came in,” I say.