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Listen a minute. I don't enjoy driving three hundred miles in one-hundred-degree heat with a hangover and a bloody nose. But this man has five years hard time to do because of a scuffle on a picket line. He doesn't have a god damn cent and he can't get a white lawyer to file an appeal for him. Next week he'll be chopping cotton on the prison farm and there won't be a thing I can do for him.
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