Tripp joined me, which was surprising because we weren’t as close as I was with the others. What was more surprising than that was the fact that the man actually cleaned up nicely. His long hair was even pulled into a neat ponytail and his face was clean-shaven. In a crisp white button-down, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his navy dress slacks and took a deep breath.

“I ain’t much on public speaking, but it’d be wrong not to for Dave. I only had one person to visit me the entire three years, seven months, and two days I was incarcerated. I didn’t know Dave Foster before all that, yet he showed up and made himself my brother. It was a bad time. You see, other inmates don’t take kindly to anyone accused of hurting a child, so I was the punching bag. And after that crazy guy took a pen to my eye, Dave was there when I woke up from surgery.”

Miss Wise marched to the front and handed Tripp a tissue when he couldn’t continue. That ornery lady patted him on the shoulder and returned to her seat.

“Thank you,” Tripp muttered to her as he wiped his eyes. “Not many know, but it was Dave who fought for the state to review my case even before they discovered the remains . . . And then once I was exonerated and decided I was going to rebel and show out . . . I don’t know how that man knew when I went to the juke joint, but he showed up each time to drive me home. He spoke a lot about Jesus during those rides home, and somehow it stuck. Do you want to know why? Because Dave never gave up on me.” He turned to me and I made sure to focus on his good eye. “And we ain’t giving up on him either.”

A woman I hardly recognized took Tripp’s place. A natural beauty, with her hair tied in a low bun and her face free of makeup. She wore a loose tunic over a pair of stirrup leggings that looked better than anything I’d ever seen her in.

“Walynn?” I was beginning to wonder who these strangers were.