I was deeply moved and found tears forming in my eyes. Since I didn't want other people in the room to see me crying, I hid my face. I recovered, walked around in the house and realized the funeral was actually taking place in this humble house.

I walked outside and saw the house was located in an impoverished section of the city. I thought Dr. King had chosen the house for his funeral to show his connection with poor people.

I decided to leave and began to cross the street to reach a pick-up truck I had parked on the opposite side. Three black girls came out of the house and one approached me. She seemed as if she wanted to fight me, but I simply boarded my truck.

The three girls boarded a car directly behind me and before I could start the truck, they began pushing my truck with their car. They pushed me through a stop sign and into the intersection of a street. Then they turned right and drove off.

I was angry and decided to follow them for an explanation. I chased them for several blocks, but finally lost sight of them.