You expect us to believe that?” A car slowed as it passed, the driver watching the scene with visible concern. For a moment, Marcus felt a surge of hope that someone might stop, might witness what was happening. But the vehicle continued on after a warning glare from Officer Morrison.
“Look,” Marcus said, trying a different approach. “You can call my father if you want to verify. His number is in my phone, or we can walk to my house.
It’s really just a few blocks from here.” Officer Delaney’s hand suddenly shot out, gripping Marcus’s upper arm with bruising force.
“You trying to tell us how to do our job now? Sounds like you need to learn some respect.”
Marcus winced at the painful grip, but remained still, remembering his father’s most urgent warning: Don’t resist, even when they’re wrong. Even when it’s unfair.
“I respect your authority, sir. I’m just trying to explain the situation.”
“The situation,” Officer Morrison said, stepping even closer, “is that we’ve got a suspicious individual with no ID in a high-value neighborhood where he doesn’t belong, giving us lip and telling us how to do our jobs.” He nodded to Delaney. “I think we need to continue this conversation down at the station.” Officer Delaney’s grip tightened further as he began to turn Marcus toward the police cruiser. “Let’s go, smart guy. Maybe a trip downtown will refresh your memory about where you really live.”
“Please,” Marcus said, his voice still controlled but tinged with genuine alarm now. “Just call my father.
He’s expecting me home for dinner. He’ll be worried.” “Oh, daddy’s going to be worried?” Delaney mocked, shoving Marcus forward.
“Should have thought about that before you decided to go wandering where you don’t belong.”
Marcus stumbled slightly under the force of the shove, but caught himself, careful not to make any movement that could be interpreted as resistance.
“My father is William Johnson,” he said, finally deciding that revealing his father’s identity might be his only option.
“He’s the state attorney general.”
Both officers froze momentarily before exchanging glances. Officer Morrison’s expression darkened and his voice dropped dangerously.
“You think that’s funny? You think making up lies about who your daddy is will help you right now?” “I’m not lying,” Marcus insisted, a cold dread spreading through him as he realized that the truth was only making his situation worse. “My father is William Johnson, the attorney general.
You can verify that if you—” The rest of his sentence was cut off as Officer Morrison suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt, slamming him back against the cruiser with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs. “That’s enough of your smart mouth,” he growled, his face inches from Marcus’s.
