Vincent Chin was killed by two men June the twenty-third, nineteen eighty-two. He was bludgeoned to death by two men. They were never sentenced to jail. They live today.

Ah, but Ebens...why else would you kill a man?—why else would you have another hold his arms while you bludgeon him to death...why else would you chase him in the night?

Please stop laughing like makes me feel sick.

"That's the first time I've ever been in a jail cell, ah...hopefully it'll be the last time I've ever been in a jail cell. That, not a good experience for anyone.

Especially when there's no blankets, there's no mattress, there's no pillows, there's nothing there but a steel cot; that's what you get through the night on."

That's the first time Chen Guoren died, and his death was not the last time his mother's world was snuffed. Not a good experience for anyone...much less a mother. No boy from birth, no son, and ultimately no justice... That's what she went through the days on, and the nights, for the rest of her life.

"Being in jail, and, uh...knowing next day was Father's Day."

With a son dead, who would never know a single Father's Day. No children to have.

"Well, to be quite honest, I expected to go to jail."

"...parading Mrs. Chin around the country or whatever."

"I personally think that a lot of them used it as their own vehicle just to get ahead, uh...ah. Secondly—secondly, they used it—they used it to, ah, promote the, ah...Asian-American, and...and the, uh...their alleged plight in this country—which, I am not aware of, that they have a plight, 'cause I a—I know very few Asians. Very few."

You see what you want to see.

You see the train and not the tracks. Thusly.

Because you killed a man, whether or not it was over race. Because you cannot deny that you killed, because you walked away even after you killed. Because you killed a man of a foreign race, two of you against one, you the privileged white against the yellow peril.

Because you killed a man and walked away. Because he is dead and you are not. Because he is free in a place far away, and you are free where you are.

You killed a man.

You show no remorse.

And they are angered, and after all these years they are angered, and they think you are a disgusting specimen of man, a coward who excuses himself the way a child does; a man who got away with murder. A man who had to have another hold one man while he beat him himself. Beat him to death and sit with your laughing wife so many years later.

Because a murderer walks free.