Chapter Twenty-One HOMEGOING

“There has never been, nor will there ever be, anything quite so special as the love between the mother and a son.”

—Source Unknown

Ray hadn’t been able to say anything to his mom or Lester before he was taken away from the hearing. His mom had her head resting on Lester’s shoulder and her eyes closed. At least she was safe. Lester would keep her safe. Ray knew Bryan would talk to them and offer encouraging words, just as he always offered them to Ray. Ray wanted to be excited, but he didn’t have a lot of faith. He knew that his evidence was compelling, but it was being presented to the same old cast of characters who had put Ray away to begin with, plus the assistant attorney general who thought he was nothing but a waste of time. When he got back to his cell he ignored the questions of the guys asking how it went. Even the guards wanted to know and seemed hopeful that he might get released. Some nights, however, just called for silence and prayer. And on the row, there were a lot of bad days and a lot of bad nights, and if someone didn’t want to talk, everyone knew to back off. Survival was at stake, and they cared enough for each other to let each other survive in their own way.

When Ray overheard a bootleg book discussion, the reminder of the days when they’d still had the club made him sad. All he could think of were those empty chairs in the library as they killed each of the prisoners off, one by one. First Larry, then Horsley; Henry, then Brian, and finally Victor. Nothing but empty chairs with every execution.

After they had officially closed down the book club, the books they had read, plus some new ones, circulated around the cells. There was no meeting in the library, but guys would talk about the books, yelling from cell to cell. If someone hadn’t read the book, they just listened. If they had read the book, they could give ideas, offer opinions. And the questions always came to Ray, as if he was the book club teacher. He told the guys that he didn’t have all the answers; there was no right or wrong in book club. You just had your own thoughts and interpretations and beliefs and ideas. That concept was new for a lot of guys. Giving their honest opinion, and having that listened to and respected was a new kind of drug that traveled around the row. Matters of the heart were discussed. Politics were discussed. Racism and poverty were discussed. Violence was discussed. Everyone had a chance to talk their way through the big ideas.

“Ray! You listening, Ray?” It was a guy named Jimmy Dill. Jimmy was a former drug addict who had been going to nursing school before he was convicted of robbing and killing a man for cocaine and a couple hundred bucks. Jimmy looked a bit unsure of himself when he talked; he loved to eat, and all day long he would talk about his favorite foods. Okra. Biscuits. Fried chicken. All day long. But Jimmy also had a kindness about him that made it hard to imagine him shooting someone in the back of the head.

“What you need, Jimmy?” Ray asked.

“I want to read that book To Kill a Mockingbird. Do you have it?”

“I have it.”

“Can you send it my way with the guards next time they come round?” he asked.

“I can.”

“Okay. Johnson wants to read it too; we’re going to talk about it after. I’ve heard it’s good. I don’t know if that white boy is gonna understand it, but we’ll see what he has to say.”

Ray heard a few of the guys laugh. This was how it worked, and the book or books would get passed around, and then one day, without any planning, someone would yell, “How about that Scout girl?” and the discussion would begin.

That summer was hot and slow. Bryan and Ray were waiting for word back from Judge Garrett about his Rule 32 petition, but there was nothing but silence. Ray couldn’t imagine it would take him more than the summer to rule. He was the judge in the original trial. Garrett knew the case inside and out. Ray used to pray that the truth would come out; now he was praying that the truth would be heard. The truth was proven in that hearing. Ray was innocent. He had been set up and thrown away. Now he needed Garrett to do the right thing, the honorable thing.

Lester came to visit in August on what had to be the hottest day of the year. It felt like it was 120 degrees in the shade, and without air, Ray thought they were all going to melt into a puddle on the visiting yard. He tried to keep his visiting whites clean and fresh, but he was sweating so hard that he decided to cut the visit short just so Lester and Sia could get back to the air-conditioning in the car.

“Lester, before you go, one more thing,” Ray said.

“What’s that? What do you need?” That was Lester. He got Ray everything he needed even before he needed it. Lester made sure he never went without commissary or a television and radio or extra socks and shorts.

“I need my birth certificate.”

“Your what?”

“I’m going to need my birth certificate for when I get out of here. I won’t have any identification. I’m going to need some, and all I’m going to have to prove I am who I am is my birth certificate.”

Lester was quiet for a minute or so. He looked down at the ground and then took a breath. “You are going to need that,” he said. And then he gave Ray a big smile. “How should I go about getting it? I will mail it to you, but tell me where to find it.”

“You know God can do everything but fail, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, God is going to have to release me or be proven a liar.”

“How do you figure that?”

“‘What things soever you desire when you pray, believe that you receive them, and you shall have them.’ Mark 11:24,” Ray said.

Lester smiled. He knew this was Ray’s favorite Scripture, and Ray had talked about it a million times before. “What about it?”

“God can’t fail. Therefore, this Scripture has to be true, and I have to be set free or God is a liar because he would have failed.”

“You’re trying to trap God in some kind of loophole?” Lester laughed. “Man, you really should’ve been a lawyer.”

“Maybe I will be. Maybe I will get out of here, go to law school, and start working with Bryan to start freeing all these innocent men up in here. Put an end to the death penalty once and for all. Maybe I will.” Ray was forty-six years old, and he figured they both knew he was too old to go to law school even if he walked out of there with Bryan. They laughed, and talked about some of the different things Ray might do when he was free.

“Okay. I’ll get you your birth certificate,” Lester said. “I’ll talk to your sister.”

“Why don’t you ask my mom? She might have it.”

A shadow passed over Lester’s face for a brief second. There was something there that Ray didn’t want to look at or think about.

“Okay. I’ll ask them both, and I’ll get it.”

Ray looked over at Sia, who was smiling as big as could be. “What are you smiling at?”

“You’re going to walk out of here, Ray,” she said. “We all know it. And it’s going to be a happy day. A bright day. It’s going to be soon. We’ll get the birth certificate, and then you can come to our house and cook us some dinner.”

“You’d better count on it,” Ray said.


“Ray, I got some news for you.”

It was September 22, 2002, when the captain of the guards came to Ray’s cell and said those words.

Ray felt his heart begin to pound. This didn’t look like news of his release. He had seen enough death in there to know the way it showed on a man’s face. The guard had death on his face, and even before he said what he came to say, the screaming began in Ray’s head.

“It’s your mom, Ray. She died today. We just got word. I’m sorry. The other guards and I want to offer our condolences.”

Ray didn’t say a word. The screaming in his head was so loud he just wanted the man to leave so he could put the pillow over his ears. He turned his back to the guard and wondered if he was going to pass out. The guard cleared his throat, and then Ray heard his footsteps walk away.

Ray cried quietly at first. And then it was as if his body were possessed, because he started shaking so hard he couldn’t even hold his hand in front of his face. Was he having a seizure? He didn’t care. Ray felt his stomach turn over, and he ran to the toilet, thinking he might throw up. All he wanted was his mama, and she was dead. Ray couldn’t understand what kind of world this was now. He was nothing. He was nobody. People called him Ray, but he was Buhlar Hinton’s son, and Buhlar Hinton was dead.

Ray started sobbing, and it was like his body was turning itself inside out. She had died and Ray wasn’t with her. He couldn’t live with that. He couldn’t even breathe with that thought. He was in prison, on death row, and he didn’t get to hold his mom as she passed. He would never get to hold her again. He couldn’t tell her he loved her. He couldn’t tell her goodbye.

When are they going to let you come home, baby?

Soon, Mama. I’m going to be home soon.

He had lied to his mom. He hadn’t come home. He had lied to her, and she had died without Ray to take care of her. None of it mattered anymore. Bryan. The hearing. Whether he lived or died. Getting out of prison. What did it matter? His mama was dead. He’d thought he was going home to her, but she had gone to her eternal home first. It felt like a million razors were slicing through his chest. Maybe he could have a heart attack. He could drop dead and be with her in moments.

I’ll be home soon, Mama. I promise.

Ray didn’t know how long he cried. When he lifted his head up, the lights were out. He knew word had gotten around the row, but he had ignored people trying to send him coffee and he had ignored their condolences. Ray just didn’t care anymore. He wasn’t going to recover from this one. He couldn’t go somewhere in his mind and pretend his mother wasn’t dead. He was a condemned man on death row who couldn’t convince anyone he was innocent.

He lay on his back for hours, and then he heard a deep voice say, The only person who believed you were innocent is gone.

Ray nodded, and the voice continued.

Why keep fighting? Why let them execute you? Take away their power.

There’s nothing to live for now. Let Bryan Stevenson save someone else.

There’s no use in staying here. They are never going to let you leave.

No one cares if you live or die. They’re going to kill you one way or another.

On and on the voice went, and Ray listened to it. He listened to it until it took him to the darkest place he had ever been in his life, darker even than those first three years on the row. His mother was always the flicker of light in those years, but now she was gone and there was nothing but darkness.

Flatness.

It was like all light ceased to exist. There was no hope. There was no love. His life was over, and Ray knew this in the quiet way you know some things to be true.

He had failed.

There was nothing left inside him to keep him going. He didn’t want to live. He felt like he didn’t deserve to live. He didn’t have the strength to live. They had won, and Ray was okay with that. He was ready to go.

Ray took a deep breath. His face felt raw in the darkness. His eyes were swollen and gritty. He had to die. He just had to figure out how to do it.

“Boy, I didn’t raise no quitter!”

Ray heard his mother’s voice loud and sharp, and he automatically flinched because he knew that tone of voice always preceded a smack upside the head.

He sat up in his bed.

“I didn’t raise a quitter, and you’re not going to quit.”

Ray looked around his cell in the darkness. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but he could hear his mama’s voice as plain as the day is long.

“You’re going to get out of here. You’re going to keep fighting.”

“I’m tired, Mama; I want to be with you,” Ray whispered. “I want to hurt them like they’ve hurt us. They want to kill me, and I don’t want to give them that chance.”

“There’s a time to live and a time to die. This is my time to die. No use crying about it. You knew I had cancer. You didn’t want to talk about it, but you knew.”

Ray started crying again. She was right. He had known.

“This isn’t your time to die, son. It’s not. You have work to do. You have to prove to them that my baby is no killer. You have to show them. You are a beacon. You are the light. Don’t you listen to that fool devil telling you to give up. I didn’t raise no child of mine to give up when things get tough. Your life isn’t your life to take. It belongs to God. You have work to do. Hard work. I’m going to talk at you all night long if I have to and all day and all night again, and I will never stop until you know who you are. You were not born to die in this cell. God has a purpose for you. He has a purpose for all of us. I’ve served his purpose.”

Ray cried softly as he heard her voice.

“Now, you wipe them tears, Ray, and you get up and you get in service to someone else. There’s no time to be crying about yourself. There’s no cause to be listening to the devil’s voice in your head telling you that nothing matters. It all matters. You matter. You are his baby, and you matter more than anything in the world. When I’m done talking at you, I’m going to be talking at God. He’s going to listen to me, if I have to talk to him for all eternity. He’s going to get you out of there, or he’s going to have a hard time of it, that’s for sure.”

“Okay, Mama. Okay,” Ray whispered.

“Don’t disappoint me, Ray. I taught you to believe in yourself even if no one else in the world believes in you. Do you believe in you? Do you?”

Ray nodded in the darkness.

He was Anthony Ray Hinton. People called him Ray. He was Buhlar Hinton’s son.

That’s my baby.

“I’m going to talk to God, and we’re going to give Mr. Bryan Stevenson a little help from here. There’s a time to live and a time to die, Ray.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“And it will never be your time to die in that place. Never.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“I’m not fooling this time, Ray. Don’t make me come back here.”

They may beat you now and then, but that don’t mean they can break you.

Ray fell asleep then, a deep, dreamless sleep, and when he woke up, it was long after breakfast, almost time for lunch.

The gifts started arriving immediately after he woke up. Coffee. Chocolate. Sweets of all kinds. Cards. Books. Death row was holding its own memorial in the only way it knew how.

“She loved you a lot, Ray. I’ve never seen a mother love her son more.”

“She’s proud of you.”

“Rest in peace, Ray.”

“I’m sorry, Ray.”

“My condolences, Ray.”

All through the day and into the night, men shouted out their words of sympathy. Sorrow shared was sorrow lessened.

And then Ray heard Jimmy Dill.

“Ray!” Jimmy yelled. “Can you help me with something?”

Ray took a deep breath. His mama had told him to be in service to someone else.

“What do you need?”

“In the book, it says, ‘They’ve done it before and they did it tonight and they’ll do it again and when they do it—seems that only children weep.’ What does that mean, exactly?”

Ray smiled. It seemed book club had started. “Well, Atticus says that after the verdict, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I think it’s because only the child cries when an innocent man is convicted. All the adults just accept it. It’s happened before, and it will happen again. What do you think?” Ray asked.

“I think that’s right, Ray. I think that’s right. But here’s what I want to say. Just because they’ve done it before and they’ll do it again doesn’t mean you stop fighting, right? I don’t think it’s something people should ever get used to, do you?”

You need to choose who you are, Ray. You need to choose what sort of man you are going to be. You need to choose now. I know you will choose right. I know you will.

“I don’t think people should get used to injustice,” Ray said.

“You know what we have to do then, Ray, right? You know what we always have to do?”

“What’s that?”

“You have to fight, Ray. You have to never stop fighting.”

And if Ray didn’t know better, he would have thought that the voice of his mother was coming out of a convicted killer on death row by the name of Jimmy Dill.