I made a bee-line for my window. They had him down on the ground in handcuffs. Pinned tightly to the pavement below. Shoving hands in his pockets and patting down his thighs. He cried, "Why would you do that?" I held my breath, waiting for the gun. There wasn't one.
Two undercover cops wearing bullet-proof vests walked the other boy within feet of the one held against the ground. "Why would you do that?" "Why would you do that?" The seven police officers put the two boys into the van and drove away.
I sat on my bedroom floor, under the window, and exhaled the tiniest sob. Without tears. Without a second. Walked myself back to my computer and continued typing.
The racial state. The role of defense counsel. Boys.