The year is 2008. Georgette drives the van from Montgomery to Selma on U.S. Route 80. As it leaves the city and heads through the country, the landscape surrounding the four lane highway opens up. Fields of cotton with big old trees lie on either side of us as Georgette grips the steering wheel.

“It’s quiet out here,” I say from the passenger seat. I’m used to the hustle and bustle of Montgomery.

“Yeah, it gets a little spooky out here sometimes,“ Georgette replies in her deep southern accent.