A black Civil Rights worker was dead and a hooded Klansman had fled. Cops tracked him to Marty’s house. Marty was inside with Corey, playing checkers. No gun could be found. Their Klan robes hung in the closet. No blood.
With scant evidence, the DA tried them both. One of them was guilty.
The jury decided not.
The State Police provided a car and two troopers to get them away from the howling mob.
They were still laughing when the car stopped at the roadblock.
Masked men with rifles in black hands surrounded them.