The thick summer air of Marion, Indiana, was still on that awful night in 1930. A 16-year-old boy, weak and beaten, stood between the bodies of his two friends. The other Black teenagers had just been lynched, and a mob of townspeople jeered and chanted as a noose was placed around his neck and tightened. He closed his eyes and started to pray. The shouting swelled to a roar. Then a lone voice stood out amid the din. A woman pleaded for the people to stop, insisting the boy was…
