The Color of Justice

The Color of Justice

Two racially charged cases. Two attorneys searching for the truth. But only one will stay alive long enough to find it. 1964 Justice, Mississippi, is a town divided. White and black. Rich and poor. Rule makers and rule breakers. Right or wrong, everyone assumes their place behind a fragile façade that is about to crumble. When attorney Coop Lindsay agrees to defend a black man accused of murdering a white teenager, the bribes and death threats don’t intimidate him. As he prepares for the case of a lifetime, the young lawyer knows it’s the verdict that poses the real threat—innocent or guilty, because of his stand Coop is no longer welcome in Justice. As he follows his conscience, he wonders just how far some people will go to make sure he doesn’t finish his job? 2014 To some, the result of the trial still feels like a fresh wound even fifty years later, when Coop’s grandson arrives in Justice seeking answers to the questions unresolved by the trial that changed his family’s legacy. When a new case is presented, again pitting white against black, this third generation Lindsay may have the opportunity he needs to right the wrongs of the past. But hate destroys everything it touches, and the Lindsay family will not escape unscathed. WINNER! 2015 Christy Award (Suspense) Ace Collins defines himself as a storyteller. He has authored more than sixty books that have sold more than 2.5 million copies. His catalog includes novels, biographies, children’s works as well as books on history, culture and faith. He has also been the featured speaker at the National Archives Distinguished Lecture Series, hosted a network television special and does college basketball play-by-play. Ace lives in Arkansas. Learn more about him by visiting AceCollins.com.  The Color of Justice By Ace Collins Abingdon Press Copyright © 2014 Ace Collins All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4267-7003-6 CHAPTER 1 1964 1 Saturday, June 20, 1964 As her vision became accustomed to the dimness of the rural night, sixteen-year-old Wendy Adams gazed through the windshield, lifted her eyebrows, frowned, and then glared at Frank Baird. The Justice High School senior simply wouldn't give up. This was his big surprise! This is why he'd told her to keep her eyes closed for the past five minutes. Leaving the VFW dance early had all been a ploy to get her alone and to this spot. As Frank inched closer, Wendy shook her head and apprehensively hissed, "You're pretty sure of yourself. Do you honestly believe getting me up here will somehow change the rules? This is beneath even you. Now, let's turn the car around and go home." "Ah, come on, Babe," Frank begged, switching off the long, sleek, '63 Pontiac's motor and moving across the wide bench seat to where his lips were just inches from hers. "Just a few minutes out here in the moonlight will change your life forever! Besides, with your body, those blue eyes, those full lips, and your perfect chin, you're wasting what every other girl in school wishes she had. I mean you're as close to Sandra Dee as Mississippi has ever seen." He was attractive. He did have a certain animal charm. So, as he dipped his head even lower, she was tempted to meet him halfway, to give in to his will and compromise her own, but the thought of sitting beside her mother at church the next morning caused her deeply ingrained moral fiber to once more wrestle control from her suddenly fluttering heart. Pushing herself up against the passenger door, she hesitantly announced, "We're going home now." "Not unless you're walking," he replied with a grin. "And it's a long way back to town. Just might wear those heels out before you get there." Even as she glared at him, he edged closer, never taking his eyes off hers as he reached over and switched on the radio. Suddenly, the strains of Lesley Gore's "It's My Party" filled the Pontiac's interior. A few moments later, his lips once more within inches of hers, Frank whispered, "And it's our party, too." Ricky Nelson couldn't have charmed her using such a cheap line. It not only ruined the moment, it reset Wendy's moral radar. Reaching for the door handle, she yanked it, spun to the right, and stepped out into the warm summer night. Slamming the Pontiac's door behind her, she took a half-dozen steps down toward the creek before stopping to lean up against a century-old elm tree. As her blue eyes stared down into the barely moving water, she heard a car door open, close, and then footsteps in the grass behind her. She was hoping he was coming to apologize, but those hopes were quickly dashed. "Wasted trip," Frank barked as he took a spot on the other side of the eighty-foot tree. "I guess I'm just not your type. In fact, I don't think you have a type. You shoot every guy down before the game even starts. Last fall, you were crowned the homecoming queen, and tonight you won the title of the ice princess." She moved forward and glanced around the elm's large trunk at Frank. He