Chapter 46
CHAPTER
Mary Stone
UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA
By Saturday, it seemed like Mason Phelps had invited the whole damn town to his rally.
And I couldn’t stay away.
I know my decision to show up was foolhardy. Hotheaded. And injudicious—a troubling quality for a judge.
But I had to stand up, see it for myself.
I begged off from cleanup after breakfast on the farm, left it to my sisters to wash pots and pans and clear away the trash. Nellie wasn’t happy. She demanded to know why I was cutting out.
So I lied. I came up with some bullshit excuse about a meeting of the area bar association and just took off.
I needed to do this alone. I didn’t want my sisters with me in Union Springs that day. I had a feeling. A bad one.
When I turned onto Prairie Street, it was already crowded. Vehicles lined the road, taking up every available parking space. I turned into my designated spot behind the courthouse.
At least the sign RESERVED FOR CIRCUIT JUDGE MARY STONE still counted for something.
As I opened my car door, I could see the crowd pouring in from the side streets and moving toward the main drag. The sheer volume amazed me. Made me nervous.
But I’d come this far. I had to see what was cooking at the pro-life, white-supremacy get-together. Who were all these people? Where were they coming from?
I walked around the courthouse, shouldered my way through the mass of humanity on the sidewalk, and climbed the front steps to get a bird’s-eye view. The pro-life protesters were out in force, milling around in front of the courthouse with signs like the ones I’d seen before.
LIFE BEGINS AT CONCEPTION
RIGHTS BEGIN IN THE WOMB
A CHILD, NOT A CHOICE
No surprise in that message. Nothing surprising about the messengers, either. In fact, the pro-lifers looked a lot like the people I’d seen the other day, when I ended up face down on Prairie Street.
What I hadn’t expected was the counterprotest. A pro–reproductive rights group had assembled.
Mostly young people. But definitely not locals.
I was nearly blinded by the intense hues of their hair dye.
I saw a lot of hot pink, some purple, some green, some blue.
Their signs were just as colorful. Lots of neon-bright lettering.
ABORTION IS HEALTH CARE
BANS OFF OUR BODIES
OUR BODIES, OUR ABORTIONS
PREGNANT PEOPLE HAVE RIGHTS
I shaded my eyes with my hand and scanned the whole crowd. I was searching for a familiar face. Looking for a single person I knew. Sounds crazy, but I swear—I couldn’t find one.
I’d never seen so many white people in my life.
Union Springs, Alabama, is a Black-majority town, and it was startling to see that the Black people in this public gathering made up such a small minority.
I expected Black folks to spurn the pro-life party; after all, it was organized by redneck racists.
But why hadn’t they shown up for the counterprotest?
Why were there no Black folks carrying pro-choice signs?
Was it old-time religion? Or was it fear?
I noticed something else. There were no babies in strollers at this protest. No kids in wagons. No tots on parents’ shoulders.
Everybody had left the kids at home.
As I watched, the two groups started surging toward each other, shouting and screaming, with hate in their eyes. I saw a few local cops trying to maintain order, but it was a losing battle.
A shiver ran right through me.
This was no longer a rally. It was a fight.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of truck engines roaring from around the corner. And I realized that things were about to get a lot worse.