He looked out the window. It was still strange looking at the rudimentary bars over it. He was so used to roaming free. But now he was locked in this jail cell awaiting the executioner. So strange for him, but he felt no remorse. He had done what he had needed to do. It was right, and he had stood for something.
He thought about how this had all started. He felt that he could trace it all back to his childhood. He had grown up happy as a child on his family's meager farm. They didn't have much as sharecroppers, and they worked hard. But his parents loved him deeply, and while he may not have had much in the way of material things, he never lacked.
At the age of sixteen, just as he was starting to come into his own as a man, helping his father every day on the farm, the land-owner decided that it was time to put a new family in the property. And just like that, his family was forced to leave.
Having nowhere to go, his family moved to nearest city, New Orleans to find work. His father was a farmer, it was all he knew, but his father was determined to provide for his family. Then the war between the states broke out, and his father went to fight. His father knew that the money he made would help support his family.
That was the last time he saw his father. The money came for a few months, until his father fought in a battle somewhere up in Virginia. Then everything stopped. His mother sewed clothes to help make up for the lack of money, but it wasn't enough, so he went to the docks and soon found work.
He worked hard, and tried his best to help his mother. All the time he kept hoping for his father to return home. But he knew that would probably never happen. Then his mother got sick, and her weak body couldn't fight off the illness. Within a few weeks, she had wasted away and passed on.
He cried inside for a while, but he never let it show. He was alone in this world full of fighting and sorrow. He no longer wished to be part of this, he felt it was time to return home. So, he sold everything he had, all his belongings except his grandfather's pistol. That he kept. And he set off for his old home, and the simplicity of the countryside.
Upon reaching home, he found that the wealthy landowner had joined the local militia and was in charge of things. Not wanting the landowner to know who he was, being much older, he gave a different name. Paying the landowner the last bit of money he had, he was able to rent the old house where he had grown up in.
Putting his all into the land, he soon was producing a nice crop, more than enough to satisfy the landowners demands, and still have food to eat. Life was going good for him, until the day when he heard the screams. Remembering his mother, he quickly sought to investigate. He simply couldn't stand by. So, grabbing his grandfather's pistol he set out.
Approaching the scene, he found a young negro woman being raped by a man in military uniform. Without thinking, he pulled the man off the woman and threw him to the ground. The man grabbed his rifle and jumped up. Without even hesitating, he shot the man square in the chest. This injustice simply couldn't stand. But what he hadn't seen was the other men in uniform with the rapist. His shot killed the young man with deadly accuracy. But he wasn't even able to check on the woman before the other men put their guns in his face. He was told that he had murdered the young man and would hang for this. The war raged on, even here far from the front. Color mattered more than right or wrong it seemed.
He felt no remorse, he had done what he intended to do, he had righted a wrong.
He was brought before the magistrate, the wealthy landowner. The man was enraged, the murdered man had been his son. When asked why he had committed such an atrocity, he looked the landowner in the face and replied, "Yes sir, yes sir, yes it was me. I went out back and I got my gun. You haven't met me, I am the only son. You took my father from me, so I took your son."
And here he was, facing the noose. He still felt no remorse. Right was right, and wrong was wrong. At least he had been able to right a wrong.
As the noose was placed around his neck, he was asked if he had any last words. He simply said, "right is right, I may hang, but you will spend eternity regretting what you have done. You can't take from the weak, you can't abuse people. Fate will always catch you."
And with that, he hung for all to see.
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