“Yes sir, this is the Parks residence. No sir, he can’t come to the phone right now.”
“Betty, who are you talking to on the telephone?” Lillie Parks was home alone with her two little daughters and especially when her husband Arthur was out, he was very protective of the children.
“Says it’s the police, Mama.”
“Let me have the phone, Baby.”
Eight-year-old Betty handed the black, plastic receiver to her Mama.
“This is Mrs. Lillie Parks. May I help you?”
“Yes, Ma’am. This is Officer Bill Tucker. Is Arthur Parks your husband?”
Lillie gripped the phone tighter and she began to tremble. No, if he were dead, the police would have come to the door, not called. “Yes he is, Officer.” She tried to be as polite as she could, not only because that was part of her natural tendency but because of how the police treated “uppity” Negros.