Atticus Finch: Heck, I... I... I guess that the thing to do is, uh...: Good Lord. I must be losin' my memory I can't remember whether Jem is 12 or 13. Anyway, it'll have to come before the county court. Of course, it's a clear-cut case of self-defense. I'll, uh... Well, I'll run down to the office...

Heck: Mr. Finch, do you think Jem killed Bob Ewell? Is that what you think? Your boy never stabbed him. Bob Ewell fell on his knife. He killed himself. There's a black man dead for no reason. Now the man responsible for its dead. Let the dead bury the dead this time, Mr. Finch. I never heard tell it was against the law for any citizen to do his utmost to prevent a crime from being committed, which is exactly what he did. But maybe you'll tell me it's my duty to tell the town all about it, not to hush it up. You know what'll happen then. All the ladies in Maycomb, includin' my wife, will be knockin' on his door bringin' angel food cakes. To my way of thinkin; takin' one man, who done you and this town a big service, and 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. I may not be much, Mr. Finch, but I'm still Sheriff of Maycomb County, and Bob Ewell fell on his knife. Good night, sir.