The Sun Does Shine: How I Found Life and Freedom on Death Row

After updating the reader on his legal news, and musing about the fact that only with more money can he solve all of his legal troubles, Hinton notes that the temperature in prison—along with tempers—are rising. He claims this is a technique meant to keep the prisoners compliant:

Much like the staff reading our mail and recording our conversations, the heat was a way to keep control, but the heat made some guys crazy. And even more violent (140).

Hinton gets friendly with a guard, joking about the possibility of borrowing the guard’s truck in order to go swimming; Hinton promises to return the truck will a full tank of gas. A fellow inmate scolds Hinton for befriending the guards. Hinton understands: “In general population, if you seemed like you were friendly to the guards, you were considered a snitch” (141). He tries to reassure this inmate—Walter Hill, who had killed a fellow prisoner—that his strategy is not only to make life easier for everyone, but to parlay this friendship into getting simple friendly treatment—not favors. He also privately sympathizes with the guards, and supposes that none of them dreamed this would be their job.    

Ultimately, Hinton’s plan seems to work: He gets permission to see the warden. The warden, charmed by Hinton’s flattery and directness, allows Hinton to start a book club, and even considers Hinton’s idea about keeping the inmates’ food free of dust and debris. Hopeful, Hinton “smiled all way back to my cell. And when the captain of the guard let me know that book club was approved for six guys, I told Lester on visiting day” (145). Lester’s wife, Sylvia (or Sia), recommends some titles.

During that same visit, Bennie Hays, KKK leader and Henry Hays's father, collapses. Rushed to a hospital, his father dies the next day of heart trouble. Henry is devastated. Hinton—along with the other inmates and some of the guards—express their sympathy by sharing their food with Henry:

Nobody interrupted the chain of comfort as it wound its way up and down and around the row until it reached Henry […] We were all beginning to learn that you can make a family out of anyone (147).  

Hinton introduces the other members of the first book club meeting: Jesse Morrison, Victor Kennedy, Larry Heath, Brian Baldwin, Ed Horsley, and Henry Hays. The first book is James Baldwin’s Go Tell It on the Mountain. Hinton says, “We were transported […] I watched these men be transported in their minds for a small chunk of time. It was a vacation from the row” (149). The members seem nervous; this is a new addition to their usual routines. Also, some seem timid about expressing their opinions—in part because of the shared knowledge of their crimes, in part because of racial tensions.

Eventually they all share favorite passages from the book, and exchange personal reactions. Hinton, meanwhile, mentions some of the members’ backgrounds. One had raped and killed an old woman; another had tortured someone with a cattle prod to force a confession. He explains:

Brian and Ed were the kind of guys who would kidnap and kill a sixteen-year-old girl. Larry had his pregnant wife murdered. Victor could rob and rape an eighty-six-year-old woman […] A few of us were innocent, a few were not. It didn’t really matter (151). 

After Sia advises on how to manage the club, Hinton asks the guys what they thought, rather than trying to get them to defend an opinion or provide evidence to a generalization: “The point was to get them thinking about anything but the dark, grimy, hot hell of the row” (153). Henry, in particular, seems moved about a passage in the book that discusses how fathers influence their children’s way of thinking. In this instance, Hinton writes, “Everyone knew Henry had shame, and here we were, five black men in the South trying to comfort the white man who would forever be known for doing the last lynching of a black boy” (155).

Hinton declares the book club meeting a success; however, at the next meeting, there would be one empty chair: Larry Heath was executed on March 20, 1992.

Hinton considers the topic of love. The opening quotation is from Henry Francis Hays; his final words, upon execution, were: “I love you” (157).

Meanwhile, Hinton is indulging in a love fantasy. He begins, “I married Halle Berry on a Sunday” (157). Visiting guards from another prison disrupt his reverie. They throw his belongings into the hall; they ask him to strip; they look inside his mouth. They ask him to spread his legs so they look under his testicles, and they force him to expose his anus. They claim to be looking for contraband, but Hinton explains: “It was a game. I wasn’t a man to them—I’m not even sure they thought of me as human” (160).

Hays’s execution date has been set. While people on the outside considered his death to be “making a point about racism and justice and fairness,” Hinton claims that losing Henry was the equivalent of losing a family member: “There’s no racism on death row” (161). The two speak one last time before the execution. Hinton tries to offer solace; before midnight, he bangs his shoe against the bars, hoping that Henry might hear the clamor and know that he will be remembered: “We banged on our bars for Henry Hays. Black. White. It didn’t matter” (162).

Alan Black—Hinton’s latest lawyer—visits, offering good news. After seven years’ work, Black claims Hinton can get his sentence reduced from death to life in prison. Black suggests Hinton try to borrow $10,000 from his church to cover legal expenses. Hinton fires him, explaining he “wasn’t going to let anybody else shake [him] down” (165).  

After firing Alan Black, Hinton, with the help of a guard, reaches out to Bryan Stevenson. In his letter, he claims he has no money for his defense; however, he may be able to reimburse Stevenson’s travel expenses. After a series of phone calls, Hinton bides his time for months. Finally, he gets a visit from Bryan Stevenson: “Seated at the table was a black man […] He grasped my hand in his, and we shook hands, and in that moment, I felt a strength and a compassion” (169).

Hinton recounts his story to Stevenson, tells him seemingly trivial details about his life on death row, and is pleased to know that Stevenson is willing to listen. In fact, Hinton writes, “He listened to everything I said. He didn’t seem in a rush to finish […] He just listened. It was a powerful thing to be listened to like that” (171).

Hinton suggests some legal strategies. He would need a better ballistics expert; the expert should be someone whose integrity in the case could not be questioned—in short, a white, Southern man in favor of the death penalty. Hinton tells Stevenson, “[a]s long as [the expert is] an honest, racist, Southern, white expert, I’ll be okay” (172).