The Purple Patch - Missouri Valley College

In the end, the creeping cold of death was more relief than
Armand could have hoped for.
Mary, 35; Adam, 39
Mary’s coffee-warmed lips quickly tugged into a scowl as she
read the article. Yet another youth found dead by the side of the
road, obviously beaten and raped. There was little evidence to mark it
exclusively as a het-hate crime, but Mary knew the subtle signs that
others would miss.
Mary knew the indications of hate crimes when she saw them.
She remembered growing up and feeling a thrill of terror every time
she opened a newspaper and saw a new body on the front page. The
days of playground taunting were long behind her, but Mary had long
lived in fear of her heterosexuality being discovered.
But when she’d met Adam (so soon after he’d run away from
the house where his mothers shoved their religious beliefs down his
throat) she knew that she didn’t want to hide any longer. She also
knew what she wanted to do with her life: help defend those like herself
and Adam.
Mary already had such a caseload, but she pondered the possibility
of contacting the parents of the recently murdered man to see
if they’d want an investigation.
At least if they found the perps she could get a shot at them
in court—and that was all she needed. She knew from experience that
even if she lost, at least the publicity was getting the issue out there.
Mary felt familiar arms wrap around her shoulders and familiar
close-cropped black hair ruffle against her cheek. As easily as she
had felt the heavy weight of sorrow tugging her face downward, she
felt that weight lift, replaced by the buoyancy of joy.
She smiled over at Adam. He smiled back.
“Go get ‘em, honey,” he murmured.
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