Summary
"It was the only time I've ever driven when I wanted to get stopped by the red light," she said, as we sat on the office floor and talked about him. "There were four straight times that I got the green light. And we'd look at each other and say 'Oh well.'"
Ten days after his murder, [Willie Davis]'s corner was decorated with flowers and mementos: A penny. A candle. A sole black, white and red leather tennis shoe, Converse, men's size 11. Inside, a folded note from a man named Malcolm: "I would like to help with a fundraiser for Hood Hop." Between the pink and purple petals of a large wreath, someone had tucked a brochure, "How to get to heaven from Raleigh, North Carolina."Willie was unafraid of death. That's what his friend of three years, [Martin Scanlan], who briefly manned the corner after the murder, told Derek, an lndy photographer. Willie and Martin were drinking buddies, and they had talked about death a couple of weeks before Willie was killed. "He'd made his peace with God," Martin told Derek.See the full content of this document
Extract
You Knew Him
Willie Davis was as predictable as the sunrise. Each day, he leaned on his crutches at the corner of South Roxboro Road and Morehead Avenue in Durham cheerfully greeting the thousands of people who drove by. Several of the motorists ga...
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