Dearest,
I am Troy Davis. My life is a thought, an idea that is repeatedly weighed in on using a scale that goes from 1 to 10. And, yeah, 1 is always the least important. I am the 1. I am Troy Davis. I am the least important.
You are Troy Davis. Since the day you were born, you’ve been subject to the mercy of the countrymen around you, the people in it. Depending on what kind of day it is in America, your life is either a means to an end or a way forward. You will have no choice in the matter.
At 7:00p EST today, the Georgia Parole and Pardons Board plans on executing us. Our family, friends and thousands of strangers tried to save us by coming forward, writing letters, signing petitions, sending e-mails, scheduling rallies and convincing even the Pope that we are innocent men. We did nothing wrong. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Even a few people who initially pinned the crime on us reneged. But it looks like the blame has to put on someone and we’re the only ones left to blame.
How does it feel? It feels like I’m walking alone in the quietest thunderstorm I’ve ever seen and every time I take a step forward, a tree falls in front of me.
We’ve only got less than 20 hours to live, and we’ve got know where to go. I never thought I’d actually know my own life’s countdown. The house is silent tonight, though. I feel like I can actually feel the hands and heartbeats of the people who reached out to us this year. Their stomachs are sick with shame and disgust. I can even feel Humphrey’s throat tightening around the few words he has to say to us tomorrow. But the people outside, we should really want to see them and thank them. Pope Benedict XVI, man, wouldn’t you like to shake his hand? All of the major leaders of the world that pushed 660,000 people to try to convince Georgia that we’re innocent.
Well, Glory, here we come. I don’t feel special. You shouldn’t either. We’re not that important in the grand scheme of things. However, I do feel humbled by the statistic that I’m becoming and saddened by the simple fact that I don’t feel like America has a chance in hell against racism, even in these more accepting times. I know God understands me better than anyone, and whatever he sees fit for my life is what’s destined to happen.
So as we celebrate our last night together on earth, Troy Davis, remember that clarity is not a guarantee when seeking justice. But freedom always is.
Sincerely,
Troy Davis
