Читать книгу Dallas - Jeff Hood - Страница 6

After

Baptist News Global

August 4, 2016

The world was in chaos.

I stood before a huge crowd. There were only seconds to go before it was time for me to speak. I stepped up to the bullhorn. I spoke as passionately as I ever have. Victims of police brutality filled our minds.

Feet constantly hit the pavement. Hundreds and hundreds of souls yearning for justice marched down the glowing streets of Dallas. Energy was high. I could feel it in my bones. Whispers of hope filled the air. The diners stood in reverence. Nobody was able to avert their eyes. Endurance mingled with the heat. Sweat dropped to the pavement. There was no stopping us. We wanted justice. God was there somewhere.

Old bricks pulled us forward. Centuries of injustice drew us together. The historic Dallas County Courthouse is a mound of red rock cascading to the sky. The back steps were a fitting place to remember — a place where on a day in the past, the screams for blood had grown louder and louder. After fighting their way into the courthouse, several thousand people dragged Allen Brooks out of his trial. Not long after, the mob lynched Brooks. Throughout the day, his body was on display. Postcards were created to commemorate the event. Though it happened in 1910, my brain felt like it was closer than I could have ever dreamed. The hanging. The dragging. The hating.

“Jeff!” I snapped out of it. I had to lead everyone back to where we started. Running up front, I took my position with the large cross that I’d carried most of the night. After a few moments, we started walking.