What if you found out that a story you believed so strongly, something you and the people around you had

staked your lives on? What if you found out that that story was a lie?

This is a story about a murder that happened in 1965.

The man was hit last night over his head because a bad situation has developed and created a lot of hate in the white community.

And there's one man dead and one man dying and that's enough to pay for a voting bill.

It's about the lies that kept this murder from being solved. And about the small southern city where it all happened.

Well the whole town knew. I didn't discuss it with nobody on the actor that happened. I kept my mouth shut.

I don't remember nothing. I don't want to remember nothing. Hell when you get bad stuff you leave it alone.

You learn not to hear it.

A moment in our history when so much was at stake.

What do you do if they get attacked? Violence is American as apple pie.

As they knew back in those days could come back to harm.

Staging them takes no murder and never runs out.

How it took the murder of a white man to spark national outrage.

We died out of proportion to numbers. Of course we had better.

Because it still means that our life is not worth even in death the life of anybody else.

But their life is still more precious.

And this story is about what happened when we returned to the same city some 50 years later.

And we're reminded that in the south there are no simple questions about the past.

Like a tree with branches. If you cut off one branch don't mean to down tree going bad.

It's just going to grow another branch. We need to find the root of all this.

When the two of us, white southerners of a younger generation, set out to call a lie a lie and finally solve this murder.

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