by Mark Oshiro
The silence that followed felt unreal. The crowd that surrounded him was still, unmoving, quiet, and it was eerie, like the world had been paused for this singular moment. He saw phones, video cameras, and the like raised up, all of them pointed at him and Johanna.
“What do you mean?” Moss asked. “Talk to me?”
“If you unchain yourself and come with me, I can guarantee a meeting with our current chief, as well as other members of the department.” That smile. “You’ve impressed a lot of people tonight, Moss.”
“No.”
His mother dropped that one, and she said it with such a quickness and with such force that his only reaction was to giggle. It rolled up through him, and he couldn’t stop it. Johanna grinned back, but it was forced. “Am I missing something?” Johanna asked.
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” Moss said. “You want me to just walk into that station and just give up?” He laughed again. “I have no guarantee whatsoever that you won’t just arrest me as soon as I walk through those doors behind me.”
“I can assure you that won’t happen,” said Johanna, but she didn’t smile this time. She gritted her teeth once before she continued. “You got what you wanted, Moss. Why won’t you take it?”
“What I wanted,” he said, “was to see James Daley arrested for the murder of my friend. Can you guarantee me right now, in front of all my friends”—he gestured at the gathered crowd—“that you will arrest him and have him charged?”
“I can’t make promises like that, and it’s not in my power to—”
“Then I have nothing to say to you.” Moss turned his head away from the woman, dropped his hands to his sides, and stared straight ahead. He could sense her, even though she wasn’t saying anything. “Please leave.”
He heard her scoff. “Well,” she said, “if you’re willing to talk, please let anyone here know. I’ll be inside.” There was a pause, and Moss knew she hadn’t left. “I’m surprised you’re letting him do this.”
That got his attention. Moss whipped his head toward this vulture, but his mother beat him to the punch. “I am proud of what my son is doing,” Wanda shot back. “And I’d gladly join him.”
Johanna had not expected that response. He watched her face twitch for the briefest of moments, like she was weighing whether to respond or not. “I guess we just disagree about how to raise our sons,” she said.
Martin’s hand shot out in front of Wanda, stopping her. “Don’t take the bait,” he said. “She just wants to get a rise out of you.”
“I know,” said Wanda, and the glare she fixed on her face made another wave of amusement pass over Moss. Oh, she is finished, he thought. “I just hope she knows who she’s dealing with.”
“A child,” Johanna said. “And his little tantrum is not going to last beyond the morning, I assure you of that.” She looked directly into Moss’s eyes. “You had your chance to be civil and respectful, Mr. Jeffries. Don’t cry to me when this gets out of control.”
The woman stormed off, her black heels clicking on the concrete, and the crowd began to yell things after her. Moss looked to his mother, to Shamika and Martin, and he sighed.
“Looks like I’ve caused some trouble,” he said. “Y’all ready?”
“We’re not leaving your side,” said Martin, and he patted Moss on the shoulder. “We’ll be here until the end.”
Moss hoped that the end wasn’t too soon.
33
Light broke over Oakland many hours later, and Moss struggled to keep his eyes open. He had braced himself for a confrontation that never came, and there was a part of him that wished something had happened. At least that would have kept the exhaustion at bay.
Much of the crowd was sitting or lying on the sidewalk. Hayley and Enrique were asleep off to Moss’s right, both of them curled up with their heads resting on backpacks, a single blanket spread over the two of them. Shamika and his mother were sipping a second round of coffees and gossiping about all sorts of things, but Moss kept to himself.
He then turned to Martin, who sat beside him, nursing a cup of coffee himself. Jasmine had stopped by with breakfast for the group, and pink boxes of doughnuts had been passed around until they were devoured.
“I really hate this stuff, you know,” Martin said, gesturing to his cup. “It tastes like dirt water.”
“My mom loves it,” said Moss. “I honestly don’t get it.”
“Your dad loved it, too. Used to bring it into the shop with him when he came for a new cut. Only guy I cut who drank coffee while I did it.”
“Really? I figured most guys read or were on their phones.”
“Normal people are like that. That stuff smells nasty.”
Moss laughed. “So what was he like back then? When he first started coming to your shop.”
Martin removed his hat and set it in his lap. “A goddamn fool,” he said. “You remember that part of him. Always ready with a joke or some terrible story. But he was great. Brought up the energy in that shop every time he was there.”
Moss shifted his position on the ground, trying to stretch his aching back and move it off the pole. Martin scooted closer to Moss to let him lean into his shoulder. “That better?” Martin said.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Martin was quiet for a minute or two. “I remember when Morris brought you in for the first time,” he said, and took another drink of his coffee. “You were small. Maybe four, maybe five. You held your daddy’s hand so tight when you walked in there. It was a Saturday morning, so the place was real loud, you know?”
Moss nodded, and Martin continued. “You know, you wouldn’t say a word at first. Your eyes were dancing around the shop, looking at all the others gettin’ their hair done, wincing if people laughed too loud. But when it came time to give you your first fade, you suddenly got real talkative.”
Moss sat up and glanced over at Martin. “No, I didn’t! I don’t remember that at all.”
Martin laughed. “Man, you were a mouthy kid,” he said. “You know you refused to sit in a booster seat?”
“You’re kidding, man.”
Martin shook his head. “You said you wanted a seat like all the others. You were grown, you said. So you wanted a cut just like them. And your dad supported you, too. He loved how much it annoyed me.”
“Sounds like Papa,” Moss said, and he sighed. “I miss him so much.”
“Me too, Moss,” said Martin, and he sighed. “Me too.”
“I don’t remember that day,” said Moss. “I guess there’s a lot I don’t know.”
“We all have memories of your father,” Martin said. “Good ones, too. You should just ask us next time to tell you stories if you want.”
Silence fell again, and Moss watched his city wake up. Buses were already chugging down Broadway as the sun rose in the east. It cast long shadows over the street, and the nearby freeway roared with traffic. He saw a lot of confused faces gawking at the assembled crowd as they passed by. Some stopped to ask questions of others, but no one spoke to Moss himself. A little before seven, three separate news vans showed up, parked north of Moss’s location. They set up in the lane closest to him, and before long, each of them began to broadcast live from the site of the protest. There was another local affiliate directly in front of Moss, but the reporter, a short man with close-cropped brown hair, never once looked at him.
Moss asked Martin for help to stand up; then Moss adjusted the chain around his waist and tried his best to listen to what the man was saying.
“Reports claimed that a protestor had chained themselves to the flagpole outside the downtown administrative building of the Oakland Police Department. As you’ll see, Diane, there are a few hundred people gathered here, all to protest the apparent shooting of a local Oakland resident, Javier Perez.”
“Apparent?” Martin said under his breath. “Like it didn’t even happen.”
“We’re still unsure of the motivations of everyone here, but I think it’s safe t
o say—”
“You could just ask me,” Moss shouted. “I’m right here.”
The reporter stopped and turned around, shock on his face. Moss was unsurprised that this particular man was white. “Excuse me?”
“You don’t have to be ‘unsure of motivations,’” Moss said, air quotes over the last phrase. “You can just ask me why I did this.”
Flustered, the reporter stumbled through a few words before turning back around, ignoring Moss completely again. Moss waited then without interrupting, but as soon as the cameraman stopped rolling, the reporter spun around. “What gives? I was broadcasting live.”
“Are you serious?” Moss said. “How can you report on my protest without even talking to me?”
“This is yours? I didn’t know protests could belong to someone.”
“My son started it,” said Wanda, who now stood at Moss’s side. “I think everyone here is aware of that and willing to give him credit.”
More of the crowd was awake now, and many of them vocalized their support with claps and cheers. The reporter scowled at them, then walked off.
“It’s gonna happen more,” said Wanda while she watched the reporter leave. “You did fine, baby. You’re really good at this, you know?”
“Nah, I think I’m just super petty,” said Moss. “How he gonna talk about me while I’m standing right behind him?”
Wanda gestured with her head behind Moss. “You got some visitors on their way,” she said.
He was overjoyed to turn around and see his friends walking toward him. Rawiya and Njemile were in the front, with Bits, Kaisha, and Reg following behind. “Hey, make some room, everyone!” Moss said, the excitement and affection spilling out of him. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you all.”
“Moss, you scoundrel,” said Rawiya, and she ran to him, throwing her arms around him. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”
“Imagine my surprise when my moms woke me up this morning,” said Njemile. “They were screaming at me about you, trying to tell me that you were doing something stupid and amazing.”
“That sounds more like Ogonna,” said Moss. “Lemme guess: Ekemeni stood there, her arms crossed like this.” Moss imitated one of Njemile’s moms, and he fixed his face with a wrinkled frown. “‘That Moss, he is too wild for you, Njemile. You need more stable friends.’”
“Eerily accurate,” said Njemile, and then she hugged him, too. “As always.”
He greeted his other friends one by one as they pushed to make space in the crowd. And then she appeared, standing at the rear of them all: Esperanza. She kept looking back down at the ground as if she was too ashamed to keep eye contact. He nodded at her, but it was awkward. Painful. A rage simmered in him, but he was not sure he wanted to confront her just yet. They’d been friends for so long, but his wounds were still raw. He turned back to the group. “How are you all here? Isn’t class gonna start soon?”
“We’re skipping,” said Rawiya. “And I think a ton of other people are, too.”
“You’re kidding me,” said Moss. “Aren’t you all going to get in trouble?”
“Maybe,” said Bits. “But it’s worth it.”
“Totally worth it,” said Rawiya.
There was a break, and so Moss went for it. “Well, what about your parents, Esperanza?” Moss asked. “I’m guessing they’re not too pleased with me right now.”
She sighed. “I’m sure they don’t even know. And besides, they wouldn’t understand anyway. They truly don’t think they’ve done anything wrong. I’m not gonna share some of the things they’ve said to me since last night, just to spare you the pain.” She went quiet, and the awkwardness he had hoped to keep at bay rushed in. “And I’m sorry about yesterday, too,” she added. “I really need to learn that sometimes it’s best if I just listen. It’s a compulsion of mine, always wanting to be involved.” She laughed nervously, then conceded, “Just like my parents.”
“I appreciate that,” he said. Moss had more to say, but this wasn’t the right time. He looked instead toward Kaisha, who stood behind Reg’s wheelchair. “What’s the online world like?”
“It’s…” She hesitated. “It’s a lot. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that the internet cannot talk about the police in any sensible way, and your protest has made people mad. I been blocking Nazis from Twitter all morning.”
“How’s the night been?” Bits asked. “Last night seems so far away.”
“I know!” Moss said. “It’s been okay. Long. Met a lot of people. Mostly, it feels like a dream or something.”
“I can imagine,” said Njemile. “Kaisha figured out what was happening last night, but most of us found out this morning. Dude, you really surprised us all. What a great idea!”
“Aw, damn,” said Moss, and his face burned. “Don’t make me blush, I swear.”
“You think we’re really gonna let you get off scot-free?” Rawiya said. “We’re here to remind all these people that you’re really just a big dork.”
They all laughed, but it was cut short once someone shouted out, “Five oh!” It came from behind Moss, so he hiked up the chain a bit and tried to turn around. There were too many people on the sidewalk blocking his line of sight. Two of the cameramen from the news vans that still sat on Broadway scrambled through the crowd, pushing people aside.
“What is it, Mama?” Moss asked. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t see either, baby,” she answered. “But something’s about to happen.”
The crowd parted a bit, and Moss caught a flash of hair, a black suit. There was another commotion, and then he saw the cops, three of them, all pushing people to one side or the other. Someone cried out, and then he saw her, Johanna, the communications manager. She was holding a piece of paper in her hands. The woman moved forward, and Moss struggled as hard as he could to turn himself around, and she came right up to him. They were flanked by cameras, and Moss’s mother grabbed his arm. “I’m right here,” she whispered in his ear, but he didn’t dare turn around to look at her.
He stared straight at Johanna, who had stopped just a few feet from Moss. She smiled, and it stretched her face, and it was wrong. There was joy there, a giddiness that unsettled him and sent goose bumps down his arms.
“Good morning,” she said. “I’m here to make a statement on behalf of the Oakland Police Department and their chief, Tom Berendht.”
She made direct eye contact. She smiled.
“The Oakland Police Department sympathizes with the loss of life, with Morris Jeffries, Jr., and with the rest of this community. It is never easy to lose someone, and the department does not take this lightly.”
He bristled, and the crowd around him seemed to hold their breath all at once. This could go in so many directions, but deep down, Moss knew the worst was about to come. He wanted to be optimistic, but she dropped another tight-lipped smile at him, and he knew that this was it. It was over.
“However, the Oakland Police Department cannot comment on pending investigations, nor can it subvert the rule of law in this city.”
The cry that rose up pierced through Moss, forced Johanna to stop for a moment. Someone swore, loudly, and she raised a hand up. “Please, let me finish.” She turned back to the statement. “Morris Jeffries, Jr. was offered a chance to speak with the chief, but refused it. Therefore, in order to make sure we can continue to serve the Oakland community as best as possible, we have no choice but to declare this an unlawful assembly. You have one hour to clear the premises.”
He heard the roar, the screams all around him, and he watched Johanna fold the paper in her hands, without ever once looking at him. She leaned over to one of the cops and said something, and he saw her walk away, saw the cops raise their batons threateningly, saw the crowd close around him, felt his world shrink to nothing.
34
It was 7:34 A.M.
The panic set in immediately and not just in Moss. He saw the frantic looks on the faces around him, but he couldn’t affor
d them the attention they needed. He grasped his mother’s hand, hard, too hard, and he spit out his question. “Can they do this?”
“Of course they can,” she shouted back. “It’s probably the most common tactic they have.”
Enrique sidled up to him. “What are you going to do, man? We can’t bail, can we?”
Moss shook his head. “I’m scared, but I don’t want to give up so easily. We can’t give up.”
“What are you thinking, Wanda?” Shamika asked. “What should we do?”
“No, that’s not for me to decide,” she said. “Moss, this is your protest, and it’s only fair that you lead it. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that I’ve got to trust you.”
He let the warmth dominate him for a moment. “Should I make a statement or something? Get people riled up?”
She smiled at him. “Whatever you choose, you know we’ll support you.”
He looked to his friends. “What do you think?”
“What are you gonna say?” Rawiya asked. “I think we’re all a little freaked out.”
“Just tell the truth,” said Esperanza. “That’s what you’re good at, Moss. Real good at it.”
His palms were too sweaty and his heart was racing. If he was going to say anything, he had to now.
It was 7:37 A.M.
Do it, he told himself.
He nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Let me get their attention.”
Before he could do anything, Bits stepped in front. “Everybody, listen up!” Bits yelled, and their voice boomed over the crowd. “Moss has something to say!”
Moss gaped at Bits. “Didn’t know you could get that loud,” he said.
Bits smiled from ear to ear. “I’m full of surprises,” they said. “Go get ’em.”
The crowd had turned toward him, and as far as he could see, every eye was trained his way. Moss sucked in air, deep, and he let it out in one slow exhale. “Thank you for being here,” he said, as loud as he could.