I know she doesn’t approve of me going. Heading out to a protest is already scary enough. But a protest against police brutality because a cop got off for beating a man to death? In Baltimore? That’s a whole different beast. It took me all week to convince her to be even slightly okay with it. This is the final hurdle, the final boss to slay before I can be on my way.

I settle on a middle ground. I won’t make it obvious I’m leaving without saying goodbye, I just won’t…go out of my way to see her. That’s fair. Slowly, I tiptoe down the carpeted stairs, careful to skip the fourth step from the bottom, which is far too noisy for anyone’s good. Almost there, and I’ll have enough time to stop at Panera before heading into the city. Maybe get an iced—

“Jamal,” my mom says like it’s just a common noun, no inflection to give away any of her feelings. “Come here.”

It isn’t a request, but a maternal demand I have no hope of ignoring. Instead of trying to fight it, I take a deep breath, drop my bag, and slink into the living room.

Mom’s on the couch knitting, because that’s what she does when she’s nervous. It’s always been that way. Her fingers move like some charm master’s hands casting a spell. I can’t tell what she’s making, but judging by her use of bright pink and green, it’s something for our next-door neighbor, Brenda. She loves those noxious colors.

The TV displays clips of riots all across the country. Atlanta. New Orleans. Chicago. Oakland. Tempe. Even Washington, D.C., about forty-five minutes south. A map appears, showing another half dozen locations.

“As you can see, Chip,” the female reporter with the blond bun says, “all over the country, people are standing up in protest against the acquittal of Baltimore police officer Damon Kyles. His trial, which lasted only two short weeks with less than a day of deliberation, has sparked another ripple of Black Lives Matter protests. And though Damon is the one who shot Jerome Thomas, a thirty-five-year-old single father of two, when a routine traffic stop turned into an altercation, most people blame Police Chief Ian Coles for the no-mercy atmosphere; he’s known for demanding an iron fist of justice from his subordinates.

“Chief Coles, a decorated army veteran who served twice in Iraq, has served for more than fifteen years on the police force—”