Chapter 47
Daley Plaza pulsed with life as the community celebrated the Martin Luther King, Jr., holiday.
Over the last few days, Beau Lee, Alvarez, and Rocky had been guests on a few high-profile radio shows secured by Nellie to make sure their voices and pleas were broadcast to a wider population—across all of Chicago and all of America.
And they were excited to be here now, protesting for Hollis’s freedom.
Voices were rising and colliding like ocean waves, but instead of battering rocks and beaches, they crashed against the steel and glass of downtown Chicago’s towering buildings.
But on this particular King holiday, protesters were chanting “Justice for Hollis!” “The Badge Didn’t Save Him—Now We Have To!” “Who Do You Call When the Police Are the Criminals?”
Children clutched the edges of signs with their small hands, their eyes bright with energy, even if they didn’t fully grasp the weight of the words they carried.
At the center of the crowd, a makeshift stage had been set up. Reverend Cleaver took his place at the microphone.
His voice boomed through the speakers.
“Who keeps us safe?”
“WE DO!”
“Who locked up Hollis?”
“THE POLICE!”
“Who’s gonna bring him home?”
“WE ARE!”
The chants rolled through the crowd like a wave, stronger with each call, fueled by urgency and rage.
Then came another voice, Sharonda Jenkins, a local activist. She stepped up and gripped the mic.
“Hollis is not the first, and he won’t be the last if we don’t fight back.” She turned, looking out over the faces in the crowd. “But this city underestimates us. They think we’ll accept this. They think we’ll go home and move on. But tell me, Chicago—are we moving on?”
“NO!”
Then came Beau Lee. “They say justice is blind, but we know that’s not true. Justice sees just fine. She just doesn’t see us.”
The crowd roared.
“But if the system won’t see Hollis, then we will make them see him. We will make them see every dollar we raise. Every voice we lift. Every step we take toward his freedom.”
The voices swelled again, fists raised, signs lifted higher.
—
As Rocky left, she carried with her a sense of hope sparked by the support of the community.
Their hugs, prayers, and presence had wrapped around her like armor.
Rocky felt their help in her spirit; she knew that the fight was bigger than her, but she had an army of soldiers to fight with her for the freedom of her husband.
It gave her strength, and that was just what she needed as she made her way to see Hollis at that godforsaken jail.
Hollis needed to know that there was a village outside those concrete walls that was rising up on his behalf.