This is part of an assignment given in class. Each piece will be written by a different student.
I feel helpless and defeated as I stand there watching the trial. Atticus is picking apart Mayella's story. The three of them: Mayella & Bob Ewell, and Heck Tate are all a' liars. Atticus don't believe a damn word they say. They're aint a white man out there 'cept Atticus that truly has believed me right from the beginin'. No matta' what I say, no matta' how truthful it is, a jury will always believe a white man over a Negro. And that's just a' how it goes.
I'll tell you what happened on the night of November 21st. Sure, I mighta' been a' Miss Mayella's that night, but it wasn't me who did a' the rapin'. Oh no sir, twasn't me. I swear ta' God. Twas a' Miss Mayella's fatha' who caused all the racket. Twas' Miss Mayella's fatha' who beat her. Twas' Miss Mayella's fatha' who blamed me for it so here I stand. I guess I was just a' the wrong place a' the wrong time. I will always help a woman, but I will never dare beat one. Oh no. Never. Especially not at times like these.
Afta' all these thoughts a' finished whirren' round ma' head, I soon found myself locked up at jail. This was a' when I knew it twas' the end. Atticus had fought as hard as he could for me, but we both knew that under the trials circumstances, it just would never work out in our favor. The last thing I remember him whisperin' to me was "I'm very sorry Tom, things just haven't worked out right for us, and hopefully someday somebody will wake up and see that convicting a Negro just because he's a Negro, is not the proper way to work things out. Good luck, Tom, you've done right and that's good enough for me." He gave one last nod of gratitude, then turned and walked out of the courthouse.
I knew that I would probably never make it out of this place alive, but if I got a chance to run away, I would. The next day, when the guards twasn't lookin', I shot out of the back door as fast as I could. Within seconds, I knew the guards had saw me. There was loud shoutin' behind me, a ripple of "You come back here right now" and "Git' 'im"s from the guards, but I kept runnin'. I saw the fence a few feet in front of me but I knew that I wouldn't make it. They were a' gainin' upon me an' one of em' had a gun. He fired it in the air. Once. Twice. Three times. The fourth he shot at me but missed. I kept goin'. BAM! BAM! BAM! He hit me 17 times. I never made it up the fence. That's when I knew it was over.