Sometimes things simply cannot just be not thought about, and for me, sometimes things are impossible not to write about.
That’s just how I roll.
Kendrick Johnson’s father, Kenneth, after a summer rally downtown Valdosta, graciously endured my camera the day this photo was taken. Neither Kendrick’s mother Jackie, or Kenneth, by this point would agree to an interview, which must have been late June or early July. For whatever reasons, I’d lost my window of opportunity to gain their confidence. I would continue doing whatever I could and hoped to at least earn their trust and respect. Too much of both had been squandered at the expense of these people, I knew. Their strength was a sobering source of inspiration and reminder to practice humility. And so I watched and listened, and waited for the same thing they were waiting for, I assumed – which wasn’t necessarily justice, I was beginning to sense. Justice in any traditional form I doubted was the remedy for a sickness as grave and grim as the one this…
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