The cop seemed to be taking his time approaching her vehicle. She glanced in her rearview mirror to see what he was doing. He appeared to be on his radio calling the stop in or running her license plates. Pretty soon, two more squad cars emerged on the scene. They seemed to swarm like bees to honey. This was more than a routine traffic stop.

The police ran Kat’s license plates and saw that she was wanted for questioning in connection with an unsolved murder. Taking no chances, the cops boxed Kat in, closing every avenue of escape. Kat’s heart began to pound as they approached with weapons drawn. Now she could only wish it was a simple traffic violation ticket.

“Miss, would you mind stepping out of the car? Slowly,” the white cop cautioned.

“What’s da problem, officer?” she asked in her nicest voice. “What’s all dis for? I didn’t do nuttin’?” Y’all act like I’m America’s Most Wanted or somethin’.”

“Miss, if you would be so kind as to slowly exit your vehicle. Step around to the front of the car, and place your hands on the hood,” he repeated slowly. “I’ll explain everything shortly.”

Kat did as she was instructed to do. In slow motion she moved, careful not to make any sudden motions, knowing in the back of her mind she was a half second from making the daily news, it took everything in her power to control herself. She thought she’d never see the light of day again.

They roughly slapped the cuffs tightly on her small wrists, damn near cutting off any circulation of blood. A female cop came along, and quickly patted her down for weapons or contraband. Finding none, they began to search her car. That turned up nothing too.

“Why am I bein’ arrested?” she shouted. “What did I do? You can’t jus’ handcuff me and take me away. I know my rights—”

“Miss, are you Katrina Carter?” the cop asked, knowing damn well she was, having seen her driver’s license.

“Yes, dat’s me …” she cried.

“You’re wanted downtown for questioning for a homicide that happened a few weeks ago. We have reason to believe this vehicle was at the scene of the crime. If you did nothing, then you have nothing to worry about. The detectives just want to talk to you. After that you will be free to go,” he announced.

She had to face the music, alone. The bad thing was, she wasn’t even the shooter. And since she wasn’t, she sure wasn’t taking a murder rap for somebody else who was. It wasn’t in hernature to be the fall guy. If she was going down, then everyone was coming with her.