“The children left after a moment,” she wrote. “I stayed. The tired lines were gone from his face, and I had a terrible urge to hold his head and stroke his temples and say that everything would be all right.”29 To her dismay, though, she soon realized she wasn’t alone; the Life magazine photographer had lingered. When she glared at him, she realized his eyes were filled with tears. And in that moment, she said, the hatred that Medgar’s murder left her feeling at the sight of white skin vanished, never to return.30
