EVA

Daddy is free! The jury has decided.

“You’re free,” Mommy says. She throws her arms around him, squishing me in between. We are all sitting on the couch, watching the news announcement together.

Daddy holds his head in his hands. “I’ll never be free of it.”

@Momof6: Law and order FTW! Henderson cleared. #SupporttheBoysinBlue

@WhitePowerCord: Life and death, reward and punishment, is the purview of God Almighty. Righteousness has been on our side from day one. #HeroCop

@Viana_Brown: We need a revolution, y’all. Can’t stand for this. Can’t stand for it. #TodayForShae #TomorrowForAll

@WesSteeleStudio: JUSTICE PREVAILS IN UNDERHILL! But the conspiracy against Officer Darren Henderson continues. What they won’t tell you about the grand jury proceedings here. #MakeItKnown #SteeleStudioExclusive

@BrownMamaBear: Have the conversation with your children: How to be safe in the world with #KillerCops on the loose.

@KelvinX_: FIGHT THE POWER #BurnItDown #ToTheGround WE WILL RISE OUT OF YOUR ASHES

THE MORNING AFTER

PEACH STREET

Blood stains the concrete. Refuse drifts. Every item a question: who was wearing this shoe? Who sipped this ginger ale?

Signs flattened by footprints, dampened by dew and human fluids. Tears, sweat, blood, urine. This night has seen it all. The dawn now bears its own witness.

The signs are strewn about the street, and trampled:

BLACK POWER TO BLACK PEOPLE

TODAY FOR SHAE, TOMORROW FOR ALL

#OFFTHEPIGS

PEACE IN OUR TIME

ALL LIVES MATTER ONLY WHEN #BLACKLIVESMATTER TOO

They have been here before. The street stands witness to the wave of rage that hits, decade after decade. Generation after generation. They march here, they shout here, they are beaten here, they light fires here.

Then they pave over the scars to make room for new ones.

WITNESS

The holding cell is crowded but quiet. You have been to this precinct before. The air tastes different on the other side of the bars. Everything is different this time.

You can no longer say you did nothing. You can no longer say you saw nothing.

You can still never admit what you have seen.

TYRELL

The ink on my fingertips is a story I never wanted to tell. They don’t let me wash my hands, so it becomes a part of me. Walls and bars and the scent of everyone’s fear and rage. The salty stink of blood and tears comes at me like a wave, like an ocean.

Or, the way I imagine an ocean might wave. I’ve never seen that. Never walked with my toes in the surf, never felt the rocking lull of the tide. Never wanted to. We dread the ocean because they brought us over on ships, and that kind of terror goes into your bones. Into your DNA. It becomes a part of you. A part of your children and your children’s children, forever and again.