'Tis not a good night to start a long road trip. Nevertheless, on this dreary night in spring of 1970, two LSU students leave Louisiana for the long drive to Kent, Ohio. But before travelling all the way through Mississippi, they take a detour. Donnie wants to see an historic site in his hometown, Jackson Mississippi.
Kevin held the slow, steady pace while Donnie peered into the darkness, searching for a street to their left that would go between two corner lots in this humble neighborhood of North Jackson. “Yeah, that’s it, Missouri Street. Turn there. Then it should be about a block, and then a right.”
Kevin dutifully followed his friend’s directions. After the one block on Missouri, there it was, the street they were looking for, and they saw the name on the sign: Margaret W. Alexander Drive. Kevin turned onto it.
“I think it’s the second or third house on the left,” said Donnie. “. . . with a carport, and a halfway-up brick wall on the front.” He gazed intently into the darkness. “Yep, Kevin. That’s it. That’s Medgar Evers’ house. Right there in the driveway—that ‘s where he was when they shot hit him.”
“Damn!” said Kevin. “in his own damn front yard!” What is wrong with these people?” He stopped the car.
This excerpt is quoted from my 2017 novel, King of Soul, chapter 22.
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