Five summers since his mother was murdered in that South Carolina church, when hate came in through the side door, killed and reloaded five times, Chris Singleton was tending to his 2-year-old son’s knee, putting him back together with a Band-Aid and a hug.
CJ would heal and go looking for the plastic baseball bat he’s always swinging in the backyard and the plastic baseballs his dad chases in every direction, and with his eyes ever asking for more.
Chris would return to a conversation about hate. Also, about love.
“You’re talking to a guy who’s trying to end racism,” Chris said.