OF THE FOUR VAUGHN GREENE funeral homes in the Baltimore region, the one in North Baltimore was the busiest. The manicured lawn and cared-for architectural structure sat not far from where Freddie Gray spent his last moments of freedom. That Sunday, as the sun shone on the funeral home, the sun at about its highest point blessing the whole city with late spring sunshine, Billy Murphy slowly walked up the stone stairs and through the white-painted wooden doors with clean glass panes that allowed the natural light to illuminate the inside.
Billy had been to countless wakes before. Wakes of clients whose legacy he was left to defend, fighting for those left behind. Wakes of so many who’d met their demise at the hands of their neighbors, friends, and family, shot down by dope boys, gangsters, and, yes, police. Billy was tired of wakes, but it was part of his job description at this point.
Billy peered around the room and saw a kaleidoscope of Baltimore. Preachers wearing their Sunday best stood alongside young men in their early twenties with their pants barely holding on. Billy locked eyes with Freddie Gray’s stepfather, Richard “Rick” Shipley, who had become the unofficial spokesperson for the family. He was not even sixty, but his slight frame and worn face reminded Billy of a man well past that age. But Rick was rock solid—he understood what was at stake at this fragile moment and his role in it. He’d grown up knowing all about police brutality and was as sick of it as anyone, especially now that it had touched his life so intimately. But he also understood that the emotions of the moment could undermine any movement toward justice, and he tried to represent the family with as much grace and dignity as he could muster given the pain they were all in. As Billy and Rick embraced, Billy held him tightly, knowing the weight that now sat on Rick’s shoulders. Sitting in the corner of the crowded room was Freddie’s mother, slumped over in her chair with her eyes closed. Billy hoped she was praying but wondered if she was high, sitting just a few feet away from her son’s cold body. Freddie’s mother wrestled with addiction much of her life, a war that Billy knew she still waged. And he knew the pressure of the past weeks had not been easy—it was the kind of pain that might have made the battle for sobriety seem more daunting than the horrors of addiction. Billy turned to look around the room, his heart heavy. The scene he’d walked into epitomized so much of the crisis that he now found himself in the middle of.
As Billy moved through the adopted sanctuary, his gray ponytail swinging from side to side, people stepped aside in deference, nodded in acknowledgment, or hugged him in appreciation. Not only was Billy the newly selected counsel representing the Gray family, he was one of the best-known lawyers in Baltimore. The combination of his bright smile and razor-sharp understanding of the law drew people in crisis to him. He was a great person to have on your side. They also respected the legacy he represented. He was the great-grandson of John H. Murphy Sr., the founder and publisher of the Afro-American. Based in Baltimore, the Afro is the longest-running family-owned African American newspaper in the nation, the flagship of a chain of papers in more than a dozen cities. Since 1892, black families have paged through the paper for news, opinions, and a celebration of blackness.
The Murphy name meant something in Baltimore. And getting Billy Murphy to represent you meant something in that city. It meant you had not only the best chance at winning a case, but also the best chance of being heard. And it was the reason the Gray family reached out to him so early.
Billy moved toward the front of the hall until he saw Freddie in his casket. He walked over and touched Freddie’s stiff arm. Billy was not a religious man, but he took a moment to say a quick prayer for Freddie. The first time Billy had seen his client, Freddie was in a coma. Now Billy stared at his body, frozen and soulless. He never had a single conversation with Freddie Gray, but somehow he could hear Freddie speaking to him. I’m ready for this, Freddie said to him. Buckle up.