Several years ago, when I worked as a campus chaplain at Norfolk State University in Virginia, I received a 2 a.m. call from Willie, an African-American who was one of the student leaders in my campus fellowship group. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I listened to his clearly distressed voice.

On his way home from an outreach concert, he had stopped at a giant open-air supermarket to purchase a bag of potato chips and a soda. As he stood in line, waiting his turn at the checkout counter, he opened the bag of chips and started eating them. Immediately a cop came over and arrested him.

He called me from the jail. I said, "Now, Willie, what else were you doing?" He said, "Reverend Ellis, I told you, I was standing there. I had money in my hand, and the guy just came up and told me that I was under arrest."

I could not believe him. I got out of bed and rushed to the jail. Sure enough, that was what had happened. There was a law called concealment that prohibits you from consuming something until you have paid for it—even if you're standing in line with your money in your hand.

I spoke to the officers at the jail, pleading for understanding and common sense to prevail. I admitted that I might have done the same thing. Who knew that there was such a law? But they were indifferent to my appeals. I posted Willie's bail and took him home. I was infuriated inside. Willie had such a promising future. Now he had a record that would interfere with how he was perceived when applying for a job.

A few days later, I was in a prayer meeting with a group of white pastors in Virginia Beach. I shared Willie's story with them and they could not believe it either.

The next Sunday, I was invited to preach at the church of one of the pastors. Again I shared Willie's story, as a way of illustrating the questionable treatment that faces so many young African-American men in our society. In that congregation, unknown to me, were a lot of white mothers who, when they were out grocery shopping and waiting in line, would sometimes open a box of crackers or bag of chips to appease an impatient child. In their women's Bible study the next day, the topic of conversation turned to Willie's story. They were outraged. They decided they would intervene with the management at that open-air market. They expressed their indignation at what had happened. They confessed to the number of times that they too had broken the concealment law.

Soon the regional manager of the market called me at my office. This had been blown out of proportion, he said, offering his apologies. The store dropped all charges against Willie. A fruit basket showed up at my office.