@KelvinX_: Light it up, ya’ll. #underhill #riseup

@Viana_Brown: We wait no longer. We stand still no longer. #standupspeakout

@Momof6: Kids today. SMH.

@BrownMamaBear: My thoughts and prayers are with Underhill!

@WesSteeleStudio: The mainstream media will tell you LIES about what happened tonight in Underhill. Wes Steele makes the real story known: click for video. #HeroCop #MakeItKnown

@WhitePowerCord: Self-defense is a human right. #BlueLivesMatter

@WhitePowerCord: One less criminal on the streets. Hoo-rah. #HeroCop

@BrownMamaBear: Will there be peace in our time? Praying for all the little brown babies tonite. #blessings

@Usual_Suspect_911: Why r u up here talkin bout blessings? Aint no GOD in this mess.

@BrownMamaBear: My prayers are with you, young brother. #blessings

@Usual_Suspect_911: You trippin. Prayers aint enough. #WalkingWhileBlack

NIGHT ONE:

THE FALLOUT

PEACH STREET

The opposite of calm is a frenzied feeling. It is the scratch of wool mittens, necessary to stay warm. It is the foam that spills out from the hole of a beer can, the pop-rush-damp, a first careful sip, then a chug.

The opposite of calm is concentric circles, the ripple effects of a stone in a pool. One smooth black stone—plop, rush, shimmer, and the stillness is broken.

The opposite of calm is the skitter of pebbles. When the people are distressed, so is the surface of the street. Every crack in the sidewalk echoes their scream.

WITNESS

“Man, nothing.” How many ways can you say it? “I was walking home. Turned the corner, came upon the cop and the dead kid. That’s it.”

“What did you see?” the officer asks again. The room is small and growing smaller by the minute. You wonder if people are watching you through the dark window in the wall. You assume you’re being recorded. “Describe exactly what you saw.”

“Cop and the dead kid.”

“The officer and the suspect. Did you witness the shooting?”

“Naw, man. It was over already. Kid was on the ground, cop was kneeling over her.”

“The suspect was on the ground?”

“Yes. Lying there dead.”

Cop nods. “The suspect was on the ground. Was the suspect lying face-up or face-down?”

“Face-up. He turned her over to check for a pulse.”

Cop’s voice sharpens. “Did you see him do that?”

“Naw, you could tell by the way the body was turned.”

“I’ll ask you not to speculate, then. Was the suspect lying face-up?”

“Yes.”

“So, the suspect was facing the officer at the time of the shooting?”

Steam fills you up. You let it slide out your nose, like a bull. Let it slide out your ears, like a cartoon. “How you gonna call a thirteen-year-old girl a suspect?”

“Answer the question. The suspect was facing the officer at the time of the shooting?”

“I told you, I ain’t see it.”

Cop sighs. “I expect your cooperation in this matter.”

Cooperation? As in, lying to support the cops? Screw that. “Now you want me to speculate?”