Once Miss Emma had first asked me to take on the task of making you die as a man and visit you alongside her to the prison, I had refused. I had refused because I felt as if there was nothing I could do to help you. How could I, a man who lets the whites treat me as if I am nothing, and a man who feels rage at himself for taking this kind of treatment, help my community? How could I, a man who had used his role as a teacher to humiliate his students instead of inspiring them, and a man who doesn't know how to live, make you into a man? Maybe this is selfish of me to write, because you had been ridiculed, framed, and sent to prison leaving you in isolation; however, although I am physically free, this mindset of mine had made me feel as if I am trapped.

Occasionally, in order to feel free and at ease, you must set your feelings free. This is why I am writing you this letter; because I feel outraged at the outcome of events. More specifically, I feel outraged at the outcome of your events. The whites have dominance – no, the whites have claimed dominance in this world. And they had claimed even more dominance by killing you by electrocution. We live in a biased world, Jefferson. A world full of people who think that they are inferior to one another. A world where people are ridiculed for their race. And a world where one, due to color or race, could be sentenced to death. And unfortunately, you had been punished for another's sin. Maybe you wouldn't have been punished if they had known you, if they had known the kind of person you were. A man who liked cake and ice cream. A man who had a childlike innocence, was quiet and liked to listen to music. A man who filled his journal with deep thoughts and emotions. And, a man who had feelings and dignity, just as any white man would have.

When I had first visited you at the prison, you were so withdrawn and sullen; you would hardly ask for anything and hardly speak. This had me think that it would be impossible to help you. However, you had proved me wrong and as time went by, I began to believe that your death would leave an impact on society and that it would be remembered. That you would be remembered. The entire black community needed you and I had faith in you. And it was when you asked me for a gallon of vanilla ice cream that you had shown the first step into becoming a man again – the first step in showing that you had begun to believe in your own worth.

I had come to realize that our fates were tied together and that we were both unable to stand alone. Jefferson, I was given a task to make you into a man and to make you live. However, in the end, I believe that it was you who had taught me what it is to be a man and how to live. You had taught me how be selfless and compassionate, and an optimistic man. I'm sorry that I didn't go to your execution. I had even asked myself why I was not with you; however, I just couldn't bring myself to watch you die. Instead, in your honor, I had lined up my students and asked them to kneel. Later I heard that you were the strongest man in the crowded room. You, the man who was about to die, was the strongest of them all. You've asked me to tell them that you are a man, and that is certainly what I will do. I will not let your death be in vain. You were the man that was able to defy the white myth in which blacks are not humans. You certainly had died as a man.

At first I would not let myself cry for you, I would not let myself do this because there would be so many more like you and I could not cry for them all. But, after the all hardships you've gone through – after being framed for murder – how could I resist such feelings? I had cried. I cried even if it had meant that I would have to cry for all black people. I cried in front of my students and felt as if I was finally ready to connect with them. I felt as if I was ready to be a leader because I was ready to be vulnerable.

Your death and the changes I had seen had changed my views of life and had encouraged me to be optimistic of the future of this society. However, I still feel depressed and sorrowful at the barbarity of my society. I still feel mournful of your death. Maybe this society can change for the better. I wish for this. I hope that blacks and whites will be able to live as one and that we will not have to live segregated. I hope that you will be remembered as a strong man that had defied the white myth. I hope that you will never be forgotten.

- Grant Wiggins