Because the church only held about 200 people, there were speakers placed outside for the thousands of people to hear the service. There wasn't a dry eye in the church, yet everyone also felt empowered by the spirit and strength of George. We rose to pick up George's body and everyone raised their fist in the air as we filed passed them. When the doors opened, and we stepped outside with the body, I saw that the crowd had grown tremendously. There were people on rooftops, hanging from telephone poles and filling the streets. Everyone raised their fists in the air and chanted "Long Live George Jackson."

It was a sight that could set a fire in your heart.

We placed George's body in the hearse and the Panthers outside cleared a way through the crowd. I was asked to ride with the family and the rest of the pallbearers walked in front of the cars. As we followed the limo in front of us, I looked out of the window and all I could see was a sea of fists; black, white and brown. It was a beautiful sight. As we rounded the corner onto 27th street, we could hear the people chanting as we drove off. We had a long caravan of cars following the body to the airport. Along the streets, people showed their support by giving the power sign. This is a day I will never forget. I witnessed and participated in the first Black August event.