Tell us where you really live, where you really got that fancy phone from, and maybe we can work something out.” “I’ve told you the truth,”
Marcus insisted, feeling a rare flash of frustration breaking through his carefully maintained calm. “This is my neighborhood. I’m just trying to get home.” Morrison leaned in close, his breath hot against Marcus’s face. “You calling us liars, boy? You think we don’t know who belongs in this neighborhood and who doesn’t?”
The word “boy” hit Marcus like a physical blow, laden with centuries of history and degradation that he’d been taught about since he was old enough to understand. He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing back the words that threatened to spill out.
“Nothing to say now?” Delaney taunted, circling around to flank him from the other side. “Cat got your tongue?” Marcus took a deep breath. “I’d like to call my father,” he said, his voice quieter now, but steady. “I have the right to make a phone call.” Morrison’s laugh was harsh and without humor.
“You watch too much TV, kid. You’re not under arrest yet, so you don’t get a phone call. Right now, you’re just a suspicious person being questioned. And so far, all you’ve done is lie to officers and give us attitude.” “I haven’t lied about anything,” Marcus responded, his patience beginning to fray despite his best efforts.
He glanced at Morrison’s badge number, trying to memorize it in the dim light.
“Officer Morrison, please just—” “So now you’re staring at my badge?” Morrison cut him off, voice rising. “You planning to make a complaint? Is that your game?” “No, sir. I just—” “Hands behind your back,” Morrison barked suddenly, reaching for his handcuffs. “You’re being detained for further questioning.”
Marcus felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. “On what charge?” he asked, even as he began to comply, knowing resistance would only make things worse. “Suspicious activity, possible trespassing, and now interfering with an officer,” Delaney answered, grabbing Marcus’s arm and roughly pulling it behind his back.
“Plus, you got a real attitude problem.” Marcus winced as the handcuffs bit into his wrists, tightened with deliberate excess. “This is bullshit,” he muttered under his breath, immediately regretting the lapse as Delaney’s grip tightened painfully on his arm. “What was that?” Delaney demanded, his voice dangerously soft. “You got something to say?” Marcus shook his head slightly.
“No, sir.” “Nah, I heard you,” Delaney continued, spinning Marcus around to face him. “You said this is bullshit, didn’t you? You think you can disrespect officers doing their job?”
