“Who are you suppose to be?” a little confused a man was waiting for me and was not mad or angry.
“I am your lawyer, Duncan Phillips, and I’m going to help you become a free man,” he said, this time with a small grin on his face.
“But why are you helping me? I don’t even know you,” I wondered.
“Well… I am being paid, but I also think slavery is a very harsh and wrong thing just because the difference in our skin. I think we could all live without it and with it, it makes us very lazy people, well, the slave masters.” the man said with hatred in his eyes, I guess for the slave masters.
I was, at first, shocked that a white man cared for a black man like me and after a while I realized I left us in silence, so I said “I couldn’t agree more.”
After a while, a big man walked in the room and sat at the big desk in the middle of the front of the room. I pointed and asked “Who is he?” to no one in particular.
“That’s the judge,” the lawyer said, “He will determine whether you’re guilty or innocent.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, understanding how this was all going to work out, “By the way, what’s your