The story of Willie Calloway, a young Negro arrested in Michigan in 1944 and imprisoned until 1953 for a murder he did not commit, must be a very moving one. We can only wish that Ken McCormick, Pulitzer Prize-winning crime reporter for the Detroit Free Press, had been able and willing to tell us more of that story and less of his own. Yet perhaps it is fitting, in a bitter fashion, that this sharecropper's son--who was sentenced to a chain gang for drinking the milk left on white doorsteps in his early teens, and who drifted North to find neither freedom nor equality, but only more hasty injustice perpetrated in the name of law and order--that, in a book bearing his name, he should have the limelight almost completely stolen from him by a host of shrewd, genial officials, clever lawyers, and least attractively of all, his erstwhile champion, Mr. McCormick. This is a chronological account of the author's personal crusade and thus becomes his book, rather than Willie's. Through McCormick's efforts, Willie eventually emerged from prison, but on these pages, he does not emerge as a person.