By Jonathan Ringel, From Daily Report

Atticus Finch is going to have a bad week. Two million copies of Harper Lee’s sequel to “To Kill a Mockingbird” are set for release Tuesday, and early reviews already have revealed that in the new novel, Atticus—whose wisdom, decency and smarts in “Mockingbird” inspired many to join the legal profession over the past 55 years—is depicted as a racist.

At the risk of piling on, I want to share an awkward realization about Atticus that has been nagging me since I re-read “Mockingbird” a few years ago. The problem is a lie, a well-meaning whopper told by the local sheriff and endorsed by Atticus at the end of the story. I predict it will sow distrust into their small, fictional town, but it has echoes in life too. Consider what happens today when the public can’t trust a police report on how someone has died.

I didn’t notice this when my eighth-grade English class read “Mockingbird” 33 years ago, nor in the dozens of times I’ve caught the wonderful movie version on TV. But when I picked the book up again a few years ago, the flaw leaped off the final pages.

A refresher (or spoiler alert): The story is narrated by Jean Louise Finch, Atticus’ daughter, looking back to the 1930s, when she was an 8-year-old tomboy called Scout. She and her 12-year-old brother Jem are fascinated by Boo Radley, their reclusive next-door neighbor. Rumor says Boo is a madman, but we sense he is a kind soul, as he leaves secret gifts for the children in the knothole of a tree.

More serious drama occurs as Atticus is called to represent Tom Robinson, a black man accused of raping a young white woman. Atticus destroys these claims in court and shows what really happened: the woman was attracted to Robinson and kissed him, an advance he rejected. Her father, Bob Ewell, witnessed this scene and savagely beat her—then they accused Robinson of rape. Even though Robinson is convicted and killed while allegedly trying to escape, Bob Ewell spits in Atticus’ face and vows to get even.

The ending of the book takes place one night a few months later, when Jem and Scout walk home from a school play, going through the woods. Ewell attacks them with a knife, but Boo Radley jumps into the fray and stabs Ewell to death. Jem’s arm is broken in the struggle, and Boo carries him to Atticus’ house, followed by Scout.

No one else sees what happened. The sheriff, Heck Tate, discovers Ewell’s body with the knife in his chest.

Atticus says the matter should go to the county court. “Best way to clear the air is to have it all out in the open,” says Atticus.

Sheriff Tate responds, “Bob Ewell fell on his knife.”

“I never heard tell that it’s against the law for a citizen to do his utmost to prevent a crime from being committed, which is exactly what he did,” the sheriff says of Boo Radley, “but maybe you’ll say it’s my duty to tell the town all about it and not hush it up.”

“Know what’ll happen then? All the ladies in Maycomb includin’ my wife’d be knocking on his door bring angel food cakes. To my way of thinkin’, Mr. Finch, taking the one man who’s done you and this town a great service an’ draggin’ him with his shy ways into the limelight—to me, that’s a sin. It’s a sin and I’m not about to have it on my head. If it was any other man it’d be different. But not this man, Mr. Finch.”

Atticus reluctantly agrees, and asks Scout if she understands that Bob Ewell fell on his knife. She says that telling what really happened would be “sort of like shootin’ a mockingbird, wouldn’t it?”

It’s a poignant moment, echoing Atticus’ hunting rule that serves as the book’s proverb: You can shoot all the blue jays you want, but it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird, because, as a friend explains later, mockingbirds don’t dig up gardens or cause any trouble—they just sing their hearts out.

But Atticus should have trusted his first instinct. Seriously, how are Ewell’s kin and the rabble who wanted to lynch Robinson before the trial going to hear the improbable tale of a man dying by falling on his knife? And this happened just a few steps from the home of the man who defended that convicted rapist of Mayella Ewell? Clearly there was a fight of some sort, as Jem has a broken arm. Even though Atticus walks around like a fine, fancy gentleman, they’ll think he and Jem must have lured Ewell into the woods near their house and stabbed him.

The story would fester among the hundreds who flocked to watch the Robinson trial. Remember—this was hardly a private feud. Atticus and Ewell were main characters in a feature attraction for the county.

If he tells the truth, Sheriff Tate could prove that Boo Radley, indeed, did the town a great service. Or, perhaps Boo Radley will be persuaded—or subpoenaed–to tell what he saw and did.

Given that Tom Robinson was convicted over a mountain of proof that he didn’t rape Mayella Ewell, maybe the public can’t be trusted to conclude that Boo Radley was saving Scout and Jem when he stabbed Bob Ewell. This is a town where lynchings can happen; Atticus and the sheriff might be protecting Boo Radley more from a vengeful mob than the curse of angel food cakes.

But lying about how a man died, leaving the public to pick up the pieces of bad information and compile them into a believable-but-untrue story, just extends the ignorance that fuels such lawlessness.

The sequel coming out Tuesday, “Go Set a Watchman,” is said to depict Atticus and his daughter 20 years after the events of “To Kill a Mockingbird.” I hope it includes a reference that the whole town found out that Boo Radley saved Scout and Jem’s lives that night. That way, the song of that particular mockingbird would be remembered forever.

IMAGE: Gregory Peck Newscom

For more on this story go to: http://www.dailyreportonline.com/id=1202731968018/Before-We-Get-to-the-Sequel-Lets-Discuss-Atticus-Finchs-Mistake-at-the-End-of-To-Kill-a-Mockingbird-OPINION#ixzz3fsQaqUDt