Never Too Late
Chapter One: A Curiosity
It was Sunday, October 1, 1989, and the morning paper had just arrived. Clad in my robe and slippers, my first cup of coffee in hand, I groggily made my way out the front door, across the sidewalk, and down the driveway. I stooped to pick up the paper.
Back inside, I poured another cup of Maxwell House and flipped through the headlines of the various sections of the Clarion-Ledger to see what I wanted to read first. Zsa Zsa Gabor had been convicted of slapping a cop in Los Angeles. Mississippi author Willie Morris had come out with another book, Good Old Boy and the Witch of Yazoo, and a storm was brewing over the federal response to Hurricane Hugo.
No storm brewing here in Jackson, Mississippi, though. Forecast for the day: mostly sunny with only a slight chance of rain and an expected high of seventy-seven degrees. The prediction appeared to be on the mark as I glanced out of the kitchen window. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and bright sunshine was gradually shooting over the eastern horizon. No storm brewing here.
I settled down on the couch and began my reading in earne ... read full excerpt from: Never Too Late: A Prosecutor's Story of Justice in the Medgar Evers Case ebook
