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Jack said, “But the thing is, we’re the United States of America through thick and thin. Not ‘the United States of America, except when the going gets tough.’ And to accept anything less than that from ourselves is to disrespect every single American who came before us.”
He leaned into the microphones. “I’m not naïve enough to think that I’ll change a single mind today, or tomorrow or the next day. The most eloquent orators in the world couldn’t do that, and I’m certainly not at that level. But y’all just need to start listening to each other, talk things out. It takes a lot of work to be angry all the time. And what good ever comes out of it? What good comes out of hating folks for no reason? Now, kindness and respect go a long, long way. We learned that in school and at church, and those lessons should last a lifetime and maybe we need to get back to them. And then maybe when enough of us have done that, we might have a decent shot of being united for a long time to come. Now I don’t know about you, but I think what we have here is worth fighting for. At least that’s my hope and my prayer. And maybe it should be yours, too.”
He stopped, stepped back from the podium, and looked at DuBose. She did not look happy, he thought. “What’s wrong, Desiree? Did you not like what I said?”
“I liked it very much. It was thoughtful and powerful, Jack.”
“So why do you look so sad then?”
“I...”
“Desiree?”
She glanced out at the crowd and then looked back at him. “I... I fear for you now, Jack.”
He gently took her arm. “It’ll be okay, Desiree. Let’s go.”
They pushed through the crowd with Jerome and Pearl in tow.
“I can give you a ride home,” Jack offered to the couple.
“Can’t wait to hug my babies,” said an excited Pearl.
They turned toward where Jack’s car was parked.
“Hey, Mr. Washington? Jerome?”
They turned to see a teenage boy running up behind them.
“Yeah?” said Jerome.
The teen raised his gun and fired.
Jerome clutched his chest as the bullet hit him. The boy fired again, and this bullet struck Jerome in the neck, ricocheted off his spine, and exited his body.
Pearl screamed.
Jack felt something strike him with tremendous force. He looked down to see blood streaming from his torso. He slowly looked at DuBose, who watched in horror as Jerome fell dead to the pavement. Then she cried out as Jack collapsed a foot from Jerome.
The crowd rushed in every direction to get away, knocking each other down and trampling over one another. Confederate and American flags hit the ground as terrified people scattered.
Deputies raced forward, guns drawn.
A sobbing Pearl was cradling Jerome’s head in her lap, as other people rushed over to them to see if they could help.
DuBose gripped Jack. “Someone call an ambulance. Hurry!”
Hilly Lee ran to them, pulled a large handkerchief from her bag, wadded it up, and placed it against the wound to stop the bleeding. “Hold on, Jack. Hold on, son.” She held his hand and kept eye contact. “Look at me, Jack. Stay with us. Help is coming. Stay with me, son.”
Frank Lee knelt down next to his son. “Come on, Jacky, breathe, son. Breathe.”
Jack looked up at them. Despite the copious blood loss and his body commencing to shut down, he still seemed able to see his parents and DuBose, but could say nothing. He managed to move his head to the right to see the shooter still standing there with his gun pointed outward. And then Jack Lee’s eyes closed.
The deputies had their weapons leveled at the shooter, but didn’t fire.
“Put the gun down, son,” one of them said. “Before you get hurt.”
The teenager did not put the gun down. “That n—— deserved what he got.”
