Twelve Men

The famed Greenville lynch trial (TIME, May 26) drew to an end. On the ninth day, haggard from strain, Judge James Robert Martin Jr. read his instructions to the all-male, all-white jury. He minced no words: "A court of law recognizes no color. . . . I instruct you . . . not to allow any so-called racial issue to enter into your deliberations. . . ." The jurors filed out. A door closed behind them.

The jurors had just seen U.S. jurisprudence rise to brave heights in a Southern courtroom; they had sat before a determined, able prosecutor, a stern and impartial judge. But the jurors were only temporarily a part of the court; they belonged in the little town which lay in the rain outside. If they convicted white men for the lynching of a Negro they would risk social ostracism, perhaps violence.

The jury did not deliberate long. As the twelve men filed in, the courtroom crowd was tense and silent. The foreman rose and handed over four sheets of white paper. The judge read them, flushed, gave them to the clerk. The verdict for all defendants: "Not guilty." The judge ordered the prisoners released. He faced the jury and said: "Mr. Foreman and gentlemen, that concludes your service. . . . The clerk has your checks ready." Then, with no word of thanks, he rose and stalked out.

There were seconds of stunned silence--then the defendants, their wives, attorneys and friends in the crowd stood up in a shouting, back-slapping bedlam. Cried Roosevelt Carlos Kurd Sr., who had been identified by nine defendants as the man who shot out Willie Earle's brains: "I feel the best I ever felt in my life. I got justice." Defendant Hendrix Rector bragged: "I'm gonna get drunk for a month and then run for sheriff."

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