Entry #5

Journal #5
Chapters 13-15
Perspective: Tom Robinson

Dear Journal,
I am writing from the Maycomb jail. They just moved me here today. I was so worried of getting killed today. I think I was the most worried today. It was a preoccupation of mine. You see, many people don’t seem to like me. It is all because of my color. People are so racist these days. Everybody seems to see black and white. Well, everyone except Mr. Atticus. Mr. Atticus Finch is my lawyer. He is the nicest man I have ever met. He doesn’t see black and white. He sees everyone as equals. I really owe him. Ever since this case came up seven months ago, everyone has been trashing him for helping me. I am almost ruining his family’s name. He just keeps his head with everything and calmly settles the issue.
My jail cell is nice. There haven’t been any people in recently so it is nice and tidy. The jailhouse is one cell wide and two cells tall. My cell has a dirt floor with a small cot hanging from the wall. Everyday Mr. Tate, the sheriff, slides a tray with a piece of bread and a water cup on it. Mr. Tate sure is nice. The worst part about jail is that I am so lonely. I keep worrying about my family and home. Mr. Atticus informed me that an offering was taken at my church, First Purchase, to raise 10 dollars for my wife Helen. I am so grateful that other folks are looking out for my family.
My trial is tomorrow. I wish I were infallible. Like I said, I was transferred to the Maycomb jail today. Mr. Atticus was worried there might be a riot tonight after I was transferred. Mr. Atticus decided to come sit outside the jail to protect me. Sure enough, a little after 10 when 4 cars pulled up. They had decoyed Mr. Tate with a fake emergency to get him away from the prison. Atticus would not let them in. By that time I was shaking. I could hear everything that was going on and I was just behind a thin wood door. I was so scared for Mr. Atticus. He was risking his life for me. There was no compensation for all he’s done for me. All of the sudden I heard a little girls voice. From Mr. Atticus’s reaction I assumed it was his son and daughter however I couldn’t acquire much information other than that. He told them to go home. Then the other kid, apparently his name was Jem, kept saying no. Then the little girl, Scout, started talking to this man named Walter Cuttingham. I assumed he was one of the leaders in the group. She continued trying to talk to him, talking about entailments and his son. He then told her he would say hey to his son for her then called all the men off. After I was sure all of them left, I emerged from my silence and asked Mr. Atticus, “They gone?” After that I decided to try to sleep after what had just happened. I should probably go to sleep now because tomorrows a big day.
Good Night,
Tom Robinson