Crack!

I consider the unbridled rage it must take for a girl that small to come at a guy like me, someone armed and in uniform. She had nothing, and still she came at me. I think about how it feels to fight for your life. What it looks like when you have nothing to lose.

It isn’t over. We’ll be right back out there tonight. And the next night. And the next.

“I’ll take that action,” I tell O’Donnell. He raises his brows. I pull two tens out of my wallet, toss them on the desk. “They can keep it up at least a few more days. They don’t see any other choice.”

DEVANTE

“I’m sorry,” I tell Uncle Steve on the drive to the precinct. “You must blame me for dragging Will into this.”

Steve’s hands are on the wheel, but he turns to look at me. “Not at all,” he says. “Not even a little bit.”

I blame me, I guess. I ran. I got out. When the ship was going down, I took the only lifeboat.

They all got arrested. Will. Robb. Even Tyrell, which seems so absurd to me that I don’t even know what to do with it.

But not me. I ran.

It’s not like I thought it through. I didn’t make a choice. It just happened. I saw an opening and I took it. I thought they were all right behind me. Why weren’t they? If I’d known they were getting caught, I would have tried to help. I think. I hope. But, I mean, what could I really have done? Get arrested alongside them? Why should I feel this bad for saving myself?

If last night proves anything, it’s that there is no actual justice. There is only getting lucky, or not.

“It’s not your fault,” Steve says. “Try to get out from under that.”

I can’t. I can’t. “I know. I will.”

“We should blame the system,” Steve says. “This broken justice system. That’s the truth. But I don’t. I blame myself, too.”

“What? How is it your fault? You weren’t even there.”

Steve shakes his head. “For not stopping you from going. For not going with you. I feel like I could have stopped it.”

The car rolls along through the refuse-strewn streets of Underhill. There’s nothing left to say. The system is broken. The scales are tipped. No balance. All the fault slides one way. We are two black men, carrying the weight of the world.

Black men. We are always guilty. Always to blame.

STEVE CONNERS

We park in front of the precinct. “Wait here,” I tell DeVante. I don’t want to complicate matters inside.

My cell vibrates as I’m walking toward the door I was instructed to use. JOHN LANSBURY.

“John.” I answer, against my better judgment.

“The verdict is going to complicate our lives. We expected this, but not the extent of the rioting. We need a meeting.”