Theresa tells me about the protests in the summer of 1965. How the police placed a barricade on Main Street at the crossroads right next to the church. That they couldn't move along Main Street. To the courthouse. To register as voters. How they eventually were given a piece of cardboard each. To write down their name and date of birth. They were photographed right there. On the street. Then the busses came. Took them directly to jail. They were too many to be photographed one by one at the police station.

The Safe House Black History Museum is her merit. In this house her family hid Martin Luther King. From the Klan. That night the Klan drove through Greensboro. Armed and with hoods on. They meant business. Two weeks later, in Memphis, he was dead.