Shelby Wayment
Mapleton Junior High School
Mapleton, Utah
Term Four Book Project
Mississippi Trial, 1955
But barely an hour later they came back in. When the judge asked them if they had a verdict for Bryant and Milam, the foreman stood up. “Yes, sir.” He cleared his throat and read from a paper he held. “We find the defendants guilty.”
A cheer erupted from the back of the courtroom, drowning out J. J. Breland’ s cries.
“Silence in the court!” the judge cried out.
“The sentence is to be a lifetime in prison, case closed.” The foreman read from the paper.
“But that’s unfair! You can’t do that! You have no evidence!” J. J. Breland shouted at the judge as the deputy’s dragged him from the courtroom.
I felt unbelievably relieved. For the last few minutes of the trial, I was almost sure Bryant and Milam would not be charged with the murder. I glanced over at Grampa who was deathly pale.
“Grampa, what’s wrong?” I asked him, giving him a gentle shake.
He didn’t acknowledge me, so I shook him a little harder.
“Grampa, it’s okay. The trial’s over now, we can go home.”
I grunted as I helped Grampa up and out of the courtroom; which was overfull with people. I happened to glance at Bryant and Milam on my way out and saw them glaring at the crowd of Negroes in the back of the courtroom.
Ruthanne was late coming home from the trial, and I was bracing myself for Grampa to get in a rage and yell and curse at her, but he barely even glanced at her as she walked in the door.
“Sorry Mr. Hillburn, but just ya’ll sit a bit while I fix ya somethin’.”
I stayed in my room while delicious smells wafted up from the kitchen.
“Hiram Hillburn! Ya come on down here, I got cha a nice meal fixed up. Ya come on down now, ya hear?” Ruthanne called to me as I sat up slowly on the bed.
Normally I would have come running down the stairs like I had when I was a little kid, but something held me back. I walked down the stairs, dreading every step closer to the dining room.
“Now ya’ll eat up now. I’ll be on back tomorrow, so don’t ya fret.” Ruthanne called to us Grampa and me as from the kitchen.
I sat down next to Grampa at the table, whose face was still as pale as he had been in the courtroom.
“Grampa, are you okay?” I asked him, ignoring the delicious food Ruthanne had made.
He just ignored me as he picked up his fork, and slowly stabbed a piece of fried chicken. I turned to my own plate, which looked delicious.
Something still was bothering me after dinner, so I took a little walk outside to the bridge, hoping to catch Naomi. Instead I saw Ronnie Remington, just passing over the bridge.
“Why Harlan Hillburn! Nice to see ya again! I haven’t seen ya in such a long time. Where ya been?” Ronnie called to me.
“I’m not Harlan, I’m Hiram, Harlan’s sun!” I shouted back.
“Well, how are ya Harlan?” Ronnie asked me.
“It’s Hiram.” I reminded him.
“Well now Hiram, how old are you now?” Ronnie questioned.
“I’m sixteen.” I told him.
“Well, sixteen, that’s a fine age. Why let’s see, sixteen would be half of thirty-six. No, thirty-two, that’s it. Why thirty-two, that’s a fine age. That’s when you become a man who knows what to enjoy in life, and has been around long enough to enjoy the right things. But Harlan, you don’t look at all thirty-two. I’d said you look about sixteen. How old did you say you were again? Now don’t you go saying you’re older than you really are. It just isn’t polite you know. Thirty-two! You only look half of thirty-two, Harlan!”
“I’m sixteen.”
“Well now, sixteen. Well you’re old enough to drive I figure. See now, oh well Ralph made me promise not to tell.”
“Tell what?”
“Well Ralph did promise, and he can be awfully strict sometimes.”
“Tell me Ronnie.”
“Well see, the other night, late, I was already in bed, but Ralph is a night owl you see, he saw your Grandpa in his blue pickup, with two other men, late one night. Your Grandpa came over, he asked us if we saw anything. I said no, but Ralph told him what he had seen and your Grandpa made us promise not to tell anyone anything.”
“What?”
“That’s all I know, honest, Harlan,”
I didn’t even bother correcting him as I ran off, back to the house, not knowing what I was supposed to do.
I was almost to the front yard when I saw Naomi run out of her house.
“Naomi?” I called.
“Hiram!” she shouted back, running to me.
“Naomi, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s just Pa. He was in one of his moods, him and R.C. they’re at each other terribly now. Oh, Hiram, I’m frightened!” she told me, crying into my shoulder.
“Naomi girl! You get back in here right now!” her pa called from the house as R.C. stormed past him.
Even in the faint moonlight you could see the blood all over R.C.’s face. I glanced at Naomi’s pa who looked no better and was just as bloody. His or R.C.’s, I didn’t know.
Naomi ran to the house, crying. I felt bad for her, after all she went through it was no wonder she was crying.
I didn’t want to stick around after that, so I took off. I was coming around the back of the house when I heard the voices.
“And you’re sure the pickup’s sold?” I heard my Grampa ask.
“Yeah, no one will know now. It’s far away from here,” a voice replied, I wasn’t sure who.
I waited until I heard the door shut and a car drive away, then I stepped into view. I raced up the porch and into the living room where I saw Grampa crying.
“What is it Grampa? Who were those men?” I asked him.
“They told me he was still alive when I left,” he whispered almost so quiet I couldn’t hear.
I didn’t want to know what he meant, but in my heart I did. I raced up the stairs where I threw myself on the bed. Then I glanced at the phone. Without knowing what I was doing, I picked it up and dialed my home.
“Dad?” I asked.
“Yeah?” he answered, groggily once he picked up the phone.
“It’s me, Hiram. I want to come home.”
I waited for his answer, but none came.
“I don’t want to stay here any longer.”
“Well, buy yourself a ticket, and come on home, we’ve been missing you Hiram.”
Before I had always argued with my Dad, but now I truly understood why my Dad had left.
Mapleton Junior High School
Mapleton, Utah
Term Four Book Project
Mississippi Trial, 1955
But barely an hour later they came back in. When the judge asked them if they had a verdict for Bryant and Milam, the foreman stood up. “Yes, sir.” He cleared his throat and read from a paper he held. “We find the defendants guilty.”
A cheer erupted from the back of the courtroom, drowning out J. J. Breland’ s cries.
“Silence in the court!” the judge cried out.
“The sentence is to be a lifetime in prison, case closed.” The foreman read from the paper.
“But that’s unfair! You can’t do that! You have no evidence!” J. J. Breland shouted at the judge as the deputy’s dragged him from the courtroom.
I felt unbelievably relieved. For the last few minutes of the trial, I was almost sure Bryant and Milam would not be charged with the murder. I glanced over at Grampa who was deathly pale.
“Grampa, what’s wrong?” I asked him, giving him a gentle shake.
He didn’t acknowledge me, so I shook him a little harder.
“Grampa, it’s okay. The trial’s over now, we can go home.”
I grunted as I helped Grampa up and out of the courtroom; which was overfull with people. I happened to glance at Bryant and Milam on my way out and saw them glaring at the crowd of Negroes in the back of the courtroom.
Ruthanne was late coming home from the trial, and I was bracing myself for Grampa to get in a rage and yell and curse at her, but he barely even glanced at her as she walked in the door.
“Sorry Mr. Hillburn, but just ya’ll sit a bit while I fix ya somethin’.”
I stayed in my room while delicious smells wafted up from the kitchen.
“Hiram Hillburn! Ya come on down here, I got cha a nice meal fixed up. Ya come on down now, ya hear?” Ruthanne called to me as I sat up slowly on the bed.
Normally I would have come running down the stairs like I had when I was a little kid, but something held me back. I walked down the stairs, dreading every step closer to the dining room.
“Now ya’ll eat up now. I’ll be on back tomorrow, so don’t ya fret.” Ruthanne called to us Grampa and me as from the kitchen.
I sat down next to Grampa at the table, whose face was still as pale as he had been in the courtroom.
“Grampa, are you okay?” I asked him, ignoring the delicious food Ruthanne had made.
He just ignored me as he picked up his fork, and slowly stabbed a piece of fried chicken. I turned to my own plate, which looked delicious.
Something still was bothering me after dinner, so I took a little walk outside to the bridge, hoping to catch Naomi. Instead I saw Ronnie Remington, just passing over the bridge.
“Why Harlan Hillburn! Nice to see ya again! I haven’t seen ya in such a long time. Where ya been?” Ronnie called to me.
“I’m not Harlan, I’m Hiram, Harlan’s sun!” I shouted back.
“Well, how are ya Harlan?” Ronnie asked me.
“It’s Hiram.” I reminded him.
“Well now Hiram, how old are you now?” Ronnie questioned.
“I’m sixteen.” I told him.
“Well, sixteen, that’s a fine age. Why let’s see, sixteen would be half of thirty-six. No, thirty-two, that’s it. Why thirty-two, that’s a fine age. That’s when you become a man who knows what to enjoy in life, and has been around long enough to enjoy the right things. But Harlan, you don’t look at all thirty-two. I’d said you look about sixteen. How old did you say you were again? Now don’t you go saying you’re older than you really are. It just isn’t polite you know. Thirty-two! You only look half of thirty-two, Harlan!”
“I’m sixteen.”
“Well now, sixteen. Well you’re old enough to drive I figure. See now, oh well Ralph made me promise not to tell.”
“Tell what?”
“Well Ralph did promise, and he can be awfully strict sometimes.”
“Tell me Ronnie.”
“Well see, the other night, late, I was already in bed, but Ralph is a night owl you see, he saw your Grandpa in his blue pickup, with two other men, late one night. Your Grandpa came over, he asked us if we saw anything. I said no, but Ralph told him what he had seen and your Grandpa made us promise not to tell anyone anything.”
“What?”
“That’s all I know, honest, Harlan,”
I didn’t even bother correcting him as I ran off, back to the house, not knowing what I was supposed to do.
I was almost to the front yard when I saw Naomi run out of her house.
“Naomi?” I called.
“Hiram!” she shouted back, running to me.
“Naomi, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s just Pa. He was in one of his moods, him and R.C. they’re at each other terribly now. Oh, Hiram, I’m frightened!” she told me, crying into my shoulder.
“Naomi girl! You get back in here right now!” her pa called from the house as R.C. stormed past him.
Even in the faint moonlight you could see the blood all over R.C.’s face. I glanced at Naomi’s pa who looked no better and was just as bloody. His or R.C.’s, I didn’t know.
Naomi ran to the house, crying. I felt bad for her, after all she went through it was no wonder she was crying.
I didn’t want to stick around after that, so I took off. I was coming around the back of the house when I heard the voices.
“And you’re sure the pickup’s sold?” I heard my Grampa ask.
“Yeah, no one will know now. It’s far away from here,” a voice replied, I wasn’t sure who.
I waited until I heard the door shut and a car drive away, then I stepped into view. I raced up the porch and into the living room where I saw Grampa crying.
“What is it Grampa? Who were those men?” I asked him.
“They told me he was still alive when I left,” he whispered almost so quiet I couldn’t hear.
I didn’t want to know what he meant, but in my heart I did. I raced up the stairs where I threw myself on the bed. Then I glanced at the phone. Without knowing what I was doing, I picked it up and dialed my home.
“Dad?” I asked.
“Yeah?” he answered, groggily once he picked up the phone.
“It’s me, Hiram. I want to come home.”
I waited for his answer, but none came.
“I don’t want to stay here any longer.”
“Well, buy yourself a ticket, and come on home, we’ve been missing you Hiram.”
Before I had always argued with my Dad, but now I truly understood why my Dad had left.
