Home Authors Posts by Kathy Y. Wilson
Kathy Y. Wilson
God, politics, race, and the judge everybody talks about but nobody knows.
Every now and then we get a perfect spring day in Cincinnati: balmy, bright, sunny and clear, pristine blue skies dotted with cumulus clouds. Sunday, April 17, 2011, was that kind of day. On that afternoon, David Paul Hebert—gangly, intricately inked, and maybe a little soused—loped into the backyard of Laura Harrell’s Kirby Avenue home in Northside. Trailing behind him was his new buddy, Jason Lee Weller.
I first lived in Wyoming; we were renting there. Then we bought a home in Lincoln Heights on Jackson Street and we moved there for a long time, and then we bought a house on Congress Street. Lincoln Heights to me was a lovely place. When I was growing up it was a working-class community. I went to St. Simon’s and I walked to school every day, which I liked. We had Neal’s Grocery Store—he was a veteran—when we lived on Jackson Street. Directly facing our home was Green’s. It was a juke joint. They actually had a jukebox. They sold Cokes. Some other things that I didn’t understand were probably going on inside.
I came to Cincinnati in 1969. I’d just passed the bar in Ohio and the firm was Frost & Jacobs. When Bobby died [he’d been working on Robert F. Kennedy’s presidential campaign] they said, “Whenever you’re ready to practice law we’d like to have you.”
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