Turn on the light, Bigger. Alright, came a sleepy mumble. Light flooded the room and revealed a black boy standing in a narrow space between two iron beds, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands.... Having been bound over to the grand jury and indicted by it, having been arraigned and having plead not guilty to the charge of murder and been ordered to trial-all in less than a week, Bigger lay one sunless gray morning on his cot, staring vacantly at the black steel bars of the Cook County Jail.... Your Honor, Max said, do not claim that this boy is legally insane. I shall endeavor to show, through the discussion of evidence, the mental and emotional attitude of this boy and the degree of responsibility he had in these crimes. Then he smiled a faint, wry, bitter smile. He heard the ring of steel against steel as a far door clanged shut. [Richard Wright, Native Son]