Today was the culminating day of the long weekend. For 2-plus hours we walked in procession in a great oval on the road leading up to the gates of Ft. Benning. Leading the procession was Fr. Roy Bourgeois, and a number of torture victims from Latin America. Many people held crosses with the names of the tortured, murdered, disappeared. Others held flowers, flags, photos, handmade posters with names, prayers, pleas to close the School. Folks on the stage at at the end of the drive chanted the names of people slaughtered by School of the Americas graduates, and after each name, we held our crosses, flags, signs, hands, fists aloft and chanted in response, "!Presente!"

As people passed by the gates of the fort, they attached what they had been carrying to the chain link fence, creating a magnificent, heart-wrenching, hope-inspiring sculpture. While all this was going on, those who had decided to cross the line began climbing over or crawling under the fence, as the crowd roared their encouragement and approval.

After the procession, the Puppetistas and drummers came out in full force and put on another spectacular performance that had everybody cheering and dancing. The Puppetistas accompanied a couple of their number to the fence and cheered them on as they climbed up and over and dropped down into forbidden territory. The last we heard, 40 people had crossed the line -- more than twice as many as last year.

We also heard that there were 19,000 people at the vigil today -- three thousand more than last year's record number.

At dinner tonight, we ran into an elderly blind man (we can't recall his name) who was one of those who crossed over the line -- as he has done in two previous years. Each of those previous times, the judge has refused to indict him because, he claims, since the man is blind, he can't know where he is. He objects to this patronizing treatment strenuously, and explained to the judge last year that he was a college professor for much of his life, got around perfectly well, and always knew where he was. Then he said, "I'm going to keep crossing the line until you charge me." As he was dismissing the charges against the man, the judge told him, "Well, then I guess I'll see you here again next year," to which the man replied, "If you're still on the bench." Today when we saw him at the restaurant he told us he's thinking of filing suit against the judge for discriminating against him because of his disability.

After dinner, we went with a large group of people to the jail in downtown Columbus where the line-crossers were being held. Drumming, singing, lots of noise. The police invoked the part of the Patriot Act that forbids more than 15 people from gathering on the street without a permit secured in advance, and told us to disperse. In the blink of an eye, about 50 cops clad in riot gear appeared across the street, and squad cars started moving into place to block off the street, so we all chose to fade into the night. And thus goes the practice of free speech in Columbus, GA.

Early tomorrow morning we'll go to the court house to witness the arraignments of the line-crossers before Judge Faircloth. And after that, we'll head home.