“Thank you for coming,” I said. “I’m Sergeant Williams. Officer Harrell is going to help you from here.”
“Ma’am, I’m going to need some information from you for the report,” Rashida said. “What’s your name?”
“Gina Harris,” she said softly.
After Rashida gathered everything she needed to start the report, Mrs. Harris tapped me on my shoulder.
“What would make that boy act like that?” she asked.
I explained his sob story, and through her frail appearance, I saw a gentle, sympathetic expression. She felt pity for him also and changed her story for the report.
“Ma’am, you pointed him out earlier and said he punched you numerous times in your face and snatched your purse,” Rashida said.
“I know, but now I’m telling you he didn’t. I put my bag down, and he grabbed it and ran.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want in the report? I still see the bruises on your face,” Rashida said.
“I’m fine. That’s what happened.”
I could’ve easily had Rashida stick with Mrs. Harris’s original story, but I understood what she was doing. She didn’t want to see another black kid’s record ruined. I had Rashida write up the report the way Mrs. Harris said it went, which changed the incident to only petty larceny and possession of stolen property, the equivalent of shoplifting. Since he was a juvenile, his record would be sealed at eighteen, and it wouldn’t show up on his record as an adult.
“Thank you, Sergeant Williams,” she said. “I’m glad you understand.”
I shook her hand.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come back and ask for me.”
She patted my hand and slowly walked out of the precinct.
There was some mumbling and grumbling around the precinct about me being too soft on him and coaxing her to change her story, but I didn’t care. I knew the victim was changing her story up, but I wanted Faizon to realize that Rashida and I cared and wanted to see him succeed in life, not become another negative black male statistic.
Faizon’s foster mother, Mrs. Richards, came to the precinct to pick him up. She was a thin, tan woman with curlers in her hair. Rashida explained everything that happened.
“I’m sorry, Officer,” Mrs. Richards said. “I try my best to raise him, but I can’t control him. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank the complainant,” Rashida said. “She’s giving him a second chance. He beat up and robbed an old woman. The sergeant is trying to help him, but you need to figure something out quick. The next cops that arrest him might not be as nice as we are.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you both. Say thank you, Faizon.”
He didn’t answer ... just smirked and nodded. They left the precinct. Rashida and I finished our shift and went home. I hoped we’d sparked a change in that boy’s life.
* * *
The next morning, I walked into the precinct, and Morgan was at the desk.
“You might want to take a look in the juvenile room,” he said.
“Why?”
“You’ll see. You’re not going to be happy about it.”
I walked into the juvenile room, and Faizon was sitting there in handcuffs—again.
“What’s up, Sergeant Williams?” he said.
“What are you doing in here?”
“They caught me havin’ fun,” he laughed.
I walked out of the room, and Morgan explained why Faizon got arrested.
“After Faizon left the precinct yesterday afternoon, he ditched his foster mother and met up with his nineteen-year-old friend Devon,” Morgan said. “They found an eleven-year-old girl coming from her after-school program, took her to a vacant house that was being remodeled, and raped her repeatedly.”
Shocked, I covered my mouth with my hand.
“The people who lived next door to the house heard screaming and yelling late at night. We sent a patrol car to the building. They saw the locks were broken, searched inside, and caught them in the act. The officers arrested them on the spot.”
I snatched the arrest sheet off the front desk. I closed my eyes, upset that the sheet confirmed everything Morgan had just said.
The weight of the guilt was crushing me inside. I tried to save Faizon, but he was too caught up in the enticement of the streets. That eleven-year-old girl’s life was forever changed, and it made me question if I would’ve just had Rashida charge him with the robbery and assault and had him detained at the juvenile hall, would things be different? Was this my fault?
Rashida walked up to me and hugged me. She’d gotten the rundown from some other cops about what happened before she even walked into the precinct.
“Don’t hug her,” Officer Bateman, one of the cops walking around the front desk, said. “If she didn’t give the little hoodlum a free pass, he wouldn’t have raped that girl.”
“Fuck you, Bateman,” Rashida said.
“Don’t be mad at me. She may want to hold people’s hands, be a social worker, but we’re cops. Our job is to keep these scumbags off the streets.”
“Guess who’s going to stand on a foot post all day and guard the location?” Morgan asked him.
“Oh, come on, Sarge—”
“Nope. You want to disrespect a supervisor, you get what you get. Oh, and it doesn’t look like you’ll be taking a lunch today either.”
“This is bullshit,” Bateman said.
“A meal is a privilege, not a right in the police department,” Morgan stated. “Next time, come correct, and maybe you won’t be hit with this cloud of bad luck coming to you.”
I appreciated him defending me, but I wondered if he was right. My chest was heaving. I was fighting back tears.
“Boss, maybe you should sit in your car for a minute. You need a minute to calm your nerves,” Rashida said.
There was no way I would cry in front of cops in my precinct. I took her advice and pulled myself together in my car. I felt like the world was crashing down around me.
* * *
“Have a seat, Williams,” Inspector Phillips said.
I sat down and looked around his office. I was in awe every time I saw the numerous pictures of him with former chiefs, mayors, and other politicians. What grabbed my attention every time was the framed Friedrich Nietzsche quote that hung above his black leather chair, which read: Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster ... for when you gaze long into the abyss. The abyss gazes also into you.
“That’s a deep quote you have up there,” I said.
“It is. I read it every day. It always helps to center me throughout my law enforcement career.”
I nodded, understood, and agreed on how the quote was useful and important in our line of work.
“You know what I like about you, Williams? Your compassion. You see people and still feel empathy, while a lot of cops I know become cynical and desensitized. You don’t get pressured or take shit from anyone. You’re a fighter. You weren’t made that way. It’s who you are. Don’t lose that. Keep being who you are.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, wondering why he was telling me this.
“Now for the criticism. Williams, I heard about the kid in the juvenile room. I know that after you talked to the victim, she decided to switch up her story about the assault and robbery. As one of my best sergeants, especially one that’s studying for the lieutenants’ test, you know you’re not supposed to do that. You’ve gone through a lot these last few months. If this were any other time, I wouldn’t hesitate to give you a command discipline. Instead, I’m going to give you a warning and admonish.”
I nodded. I was getting off lucky. “I appreciate it, sir.”
“I understand. Your heart was in the right place, but like the old expression says, ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’ Stick with the protocol. Save people by educating them about the law. Don’t lessen the crimes they committed.”
“Yes, sir.”
&
nbsp; He sighed. “You’re staying strong, but after the shooting and that kid in the juvenile room, it’s been a lot lately, and it’s taking a toll on you. Maybe you should take a few days off to recharge.”
I didn’t fight his recommendation. “I think that’s a good idea, sir.”
“Good. You’re one of my best supervisors. I want to see you back in full form. Head home. Take the rest of the week off, and if anyone asks who authorized it, tell them it came directly from me.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He smiled. “It’s no problem.”
Inspector Phillips was right. I needed to clear my mind and recharge.
Chapter 24
Becky
Surprises
“Hi, I’m Rebecca Preston. I was around the area, and I wanted to surprise my boyfriend, Ben Turner,” I said to the woman at the reception desk.
“I didn’t know he had a girlfriend. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ms. Preston,” she said with a smile. “If he’s not expecting you, I have to page him on the intercom and tell him you’re here.”
“OK.”
Why wouldn’t Ben tell his coworkers about me?
“Mr. Turner said you could head back to his office. It’s the third door on the right.”
“Thanks.”
I walked past a long row of cubicles, down the hallway toward the offices, but I forgot if she said Ben’s was on the right or left. I walked into an office and saw one of his coworkers was also in an interracial relationship. The shelves and credenza were loaded with pictures of him and his African American girlfriend, smiling and enjoying life.
“Becky,” Ben said.
“Hey, honey,” I said, hugging him.
He pulled me toward his office. When I looked around, I saw no pictures of his family or me. There was nothing that told his clients or coworkers anything about his personal life. His office was bland and generic.
“Your office is bare compared to the lawyer next door.”
“Yeah, I don’t like my coworkers in my business.”
He seemed anxious and fidgety, like he was in a rush for me to leave. Between the receptionist not knowing he had a girlfriend, and he not having any pictures of me around like his coworker did, I was getting emotional and felt hurt.
“Are you ashamed of me, Ben?”
He didn’t look me in the eyes. “Of course not. I like to keep my personal life private at work.”
“Why do you care what these people think? Maybe if they saw you had a family side, they wouldn’t overwork you so much.”
“I don’t want to argue, babe. I’m under a lot of pressure with this case. I’m crazy busy working on this trial strategy. What’s up?”
I was taken aback by his impatience with me. “It feels like you’re trying to rush me out of here.”
Ben sighed and looked at his watch. “I’m not trying to chase you out, but I have to meet Tim in fifteen minutes.”
“You don’t have to brush me off.”
“Babe, I’m not brushing you off, but I’m not trying to come off as unprofessional in front of the partners.”
I was hurt, but I wasn’t going to cry there. “All you care about lately is the partners and this fucking case,” I yelled.
Ben rubbed his hand across his forehead.
All I wanted to do was share my good news with him, but right now, he wouldn’t care about it. I was beginning to wonder if he cared about me at all anymore.
“I just wanted to surprise you ... but I guess I’ll leave, since it’s obvious you don’t want me here.”
“Baby, please. It has nothing to do with you, honest. Things will get better after this case, I promise.”
I stomped out of his office and headed to the elevator. Ben didn’t chase after me. That hurt. I couldn’t wait until this stupid case was over so I could have back the man I loved.
Chapter 25
Billy
Alternate Reality
“Yo, this trial is gonna do crazy numbers for my reality show,” Johnny said. “This bitch’s claims are actually makin’ me money. My Instagram and Twitter followers have tripled, and my jersey is the number one sold in the NBA since this all started.”
“These sons of bitches are either wearing them or burning them,” his agent, Paul, said.
He and Johnny laughed together.
Against my wishes, Francis had asked the judge for permission to allow the trial to be televised. The judge agreed, realizing that this high-priority case could help make a bigger name for himself. Johnny was excited about it. His reality show would use some of the footage filmed at the trial.
“Do you think this is a good idea, requesting that the trial be televised?” I asked Francis.
“Once you win this case, the publicity the firm will get from it is going to be huge,” he said. “Relax, you got this.”
Francis continued to stroke Johnny’s supersized ego while I stepped out of my office to escape that madness. Ben’s door was open, and I saw him at his desk, highlighting things in his law books. He looked focused. Even though his case seemed like an automatic loss, I was worried he could pull out a win.
I guessed he felt me staring at him, because he looked up. I gave him an awkward nod. He waved and looked at me curiously. Luckily, my phone rang and ended our awkward encounter.
“Billy, come to Bellevue Hospital. Your mama got admitted again,” Ebony’s mom, Mrs. Williams, said.
“What’s wrong? Is she OK?”
“Doctors are trying to figure everything out now. I’ll tell you more when you get here.”
I ended the call and let Francis and Johnny know that I had a family emergency to tend to. I wanted to get away from them, but not like this.
* * *
My mom slept while I held her hand and read my case files. She’d come down with the stomach flu, and the doctors believed she had experienced a severe relapse of her MS. I was scared that this was it ... that this time she might not make it out of the hospital alive. She couldn’t even feel when she soiled herself anymore. She didn’t feel when they did a rectal exam or have the muscle control to clench her buttocks. I hated seeing my mom suffer. Seeing her lying on that hospital bed, my mind was made up. I was going to win my damn case so she could spend the rest of her life living as peacefully as possible.
Chapter 26
Becky
Let’s Go Out
I was at home, lying on our bed, crying when I heard the door open. I didn’t bother to look up. Over the years Ben and I had been together, it felt nice knowing that for once, I was in love with a man that loved me back. Ben used to be affectionate with me. He used to wake me up by hugging and kissing on me, but lately, all he did was look at files for his stupid case. He hadn’t touched me in weeks. I just wanted to feel desired by him again.
“Baby?” Ben said.
“What? You finally noticed me? I’m amazed you left your fucking office to talk to me.”
Ben spooned me, leaning close, his lips grazing my earlobe, and said, “I love you. This case just has me stressing, but everything I do, I do for us. Once this is over, everything will be better.”
Ben talked to me with a gentleness that I hadn’t felt in the months he’d handled this case.
“I hope so.”
“I promise. I don’t know when it got to this point, but my home life and social life all started to revolve around my work life. This case has me feeling like I’m drowning.”
“Well, fuck your case. Let’s go out tonight.”
* * *
I heard Ben’s phone vibrate hard on the table. He picked up the phone and squinted at the screen. I lifted his chin and brought his eyes back to mine.
“Put your phone down. This is my time,” I said.
“I know, babe. I will. The partners want to know every little detail about everything, though.”
“Whenever you have an important case, you get consumed by it, and nothing else matters. Sometimes, I feel like I’m not important to you. It’
s like I don’t exist to you when you get like that.”
“I promise, once this is over, things will be different.”
His phone rang again. He reached for it and snatched it up quickly to hide who it was, but his caller ID showed it was Gabby.
“Just turn it off,” I said.
He did it without complaining.
We enjoyed dinner, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like we were “us” again. We laughed and talked, and I enjoyed being with him. He didn’t mention his case or Gabby at all, and that made me very happy.
“So, what’s next?” I asked.
“I know how much you love Idris Elba, so I figured we’d see his new movie,” Ben said.
“I love it!”
* * *
We walked hand in hand into the theater. Ben’s eyes were focused on another interracial couple. He nodded at the white guy, and the guy nodded back.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“That’s Bill, my competition at work.”
“He’s cute.”
Ben frowned at me.
“Aw, don’t be jealous. There’s only one man that has my heart ... Idris Elba.”
“What?” Ben said, playfully tickling me.
I tried to hold in my laughing. “If you stop tickling me, I’ll let you tickle something else later,” I said.
“Is that right? I’m down for that.”
I cherished our time together. I just hoped we could keep this going from now on.
Chapter 27
Ebony
Date Night
I came home. Billy was sitting on the couch with his head down.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I asked.
“My mom’s in the hospital again. I’m so sick of seeing her in pain.”
“I know ...”
“I’m sorry, babe. I’m always talking about my stress with my mom. How was your day?”
I had so much on my mind, but I didn’t think he’d understand my stress unless I explained everything to him in detail. Rather than boring him with a drawn-out conversation, I just said, “It was fine.”
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