The Beverly Hillbillies and racial justice

I was a little nervous the first time I went to see Darryl Hunt in the county jail in 1984. Here was this black guy charged with the most horrible murder in recent memory, right in downtown Winston-Salem, not far from my apartment in the West End.

I assumed, wrongly, that he must have had something to do with it. So I asked him on that first visit, “Where were you on the morning of August 10?” Darryl told me that he spent the night at a house on Dunleith Street, woke up, watched “The Beverly Hillbillies” as he did every morning, and then went to court with his friend Sammy.

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