Cameras & Social Media Fight to Make Black Lives Matter

     Sadly, it wasn't always that way...

     In the Fifties, my parents and I took a road trip across Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama. Back then there were no super highways. We clipped along about 40 MPH on a two-lane road that was more shoulder than road. You'd go miles without seeing anyone--just whizzing past green trees made lush by antebellum heat and humidity.
     It was along such a lonely strip I saw the sheriff's car pulled off side the road. A wide grassy field separated the sheriff's car from the brambled trees in the distance. It looked scary back in those dark woods. I suspected whoever or whatever went into that darkness never came out again, at least not without a damned good fight.
     It was then I saw the sheriff, rifle in one hand, dragging a young black boy with the other. And I'm not using the word "boy" in a pejorative way. He was only a boy. Young enough for his mother to wait up for him at night, making sure he was home safe.
     That sheriff was hauling his captive toward those dark woods, with a smug look of hate that brought a chill to the Mississippi heat. What astonished me was the boy didn't fight or resist the officer.
     Daddy slowed down our car, but he knew taking on that sheriff could leave us all dead, particularly as we were "outsiders". I watched as the sheriff and the boy went into the woods.
     At the time, I reckoned the young boy must have been hoping if he didn't resist he might come out of those woods alive. But I knew his mama wouldn't be seeing him come home safe that night...or any other. (297 words)