It’s easy enough to count the women. Twelve. They have children with them. Four small, pale beings bundled in colorful coats and hats. They are one small, silent island, but they loom large, even amid the hundreds of people coming up the steps for the funeral.

I don’t know who they are. A women’s group? Church ladies? Cops’ wives? A book club? I don’t know who they are, but I know who they follow. A woman in the front has a Wes Steele Studio logo on her jacket. One of their signs reads END THE WAR ON COPS. Another reads EXPOSE THE BLACK CONSPIRACY #MAKEITKNOWN.

I post from the SCORE account, tagging every news outlet on our list. The news media will show up sooner or later. The ones who are already on-site are actively filming.

My still shots of the group lack the power of video, but to film too long means I have to stop posting. I take a 15-second short every now and again. Try not to focus on how I’m eating through data.

This is history. This is worth it. This is the twenty-first century’s Birmingham. This is radical segregationist stay-in-your-inferior-place bullshit and we can’t stand for it.

It’s bizarre to see my pics—mine—going viral.

Zeke texts. You OK?

I’m good. I’m on it.

I’m on my way. Hang in there.

Hang in there. That’s what they want, too. This is a twenty-first century lynching and they’ve come with their picnic baskets to witness the spectacle.

As if she’s read my mind, one of the women whips a square of cloth from her bag, spreads it over the pavement. She settles the smallest of the children onto it, pouring out Tupperware. String cheese and grape halves and Goldfish crackers. The toddlers loll against the handle of her sign, which reads:

HENDERSON DESERVES A MEDAL, NOT A PUBLIC LYNCHING.

Click. Post. A picture is worth a thousand words.

TINA

Shae was my friend

She’s gone now

Tariq was my friend

not only my brother

He’s gone now

I am supposed to say Tariq died

but gone sounds nicer

I am supposed to come to terms

which means to accept it.

This is confusing

because it is not up to me whether it is true

Tariq is dead

but gone sounds nicer.

It does not mean I don’t know what is real.

Words can mean different things

Why doesn’t everybody know this?

Now I say it the other way out loud

Tariq is dead.

Shae is dead.

Grown-ups are goofy sometimes

In my head, gone sounds nicer.

BRICK

Sheila likes riding with the windows down, even though it’s too cold. Today, I let her. We’re going to her best friend’s funeral, so she deserves a pass on the stupid stuff.

She buzzes the window up and down, eyeing me. Her smile is huge.