I’ve fought for civil rights in the streets of Detroit, through the media, and in the House of Representatives more than half a century. A bunch of attention-seeking female employees can’t take that away from me. My legacy is secure because their claims are absurd. I touched no legs or fannies, though I’m sure many wanted precisely that from the most important Democrat on the House Judiciary Committee. Just look at the latest lady to throw garbage at me. She claims we were sitting in church, in the front pew of God’s house, and I eased my hand under her skirt and stroked her thighs. Isn’t that ridiculous? Someone on her side or my side would surely have seen this sacrilegious act. The pastor, high in front of us, would have had the most revealing view of all. No, these fantasies won’t destroy my legacy. That’s indestructible, but my eighty-eight-year old body and soul are tired, and I’ve resigned. I don’t need this. My children will carry on my good work.