A band of whites crept to his house under the cover of darkness, and thought to roast all alive.

In endeavoring to make their escape the family was pursued by a shower of bullets and Cook fell to the ground, a corpse, leaving his loved ones behind, pursued by a fiendish mob.
And the color of Cook's skin was the only crime laid at his door.
"If ye who speculate and doubt as to the existence of a hell but peer into the hearts of those vile creatures who slew poor Cook, you will draw back in terror; for hell, black hell is there.

To give birth to a deed of such infamy, their hearts must be hells in miniature.

But there is one redeeming feature about this crime.

Unlike others, it found no defense anywhere.