“This is about every person of color who’s been told they don’t belong, who’ve been harassed, humiliated, or worse, by those sworn to protect them.” A black SUV pulls up. Federal plates. Special Agent Sarah Kim steps out. FBI.
She sees the scene, the cameras, and walks directly to “Simone.” She shows her credentials.”Judge Laurent, I’m Special Agent Kim with the FBI Civil Rights Division.” “I need to speak with you.” Simone nods, turns back to the camera.”Officer Whitmore will face consequences, but he’s a symptom.” The disease is a system that allowed him to operate this way for 1five years.”That system must change.” Laura Carter lowers her mic.
“Thank you, your honor.” “This will be national news within the hour.” “Good.” “Let it be.” Another car arrives. Unmarked sedan. Sergeant Vincent Thompson emerges. Black man, gray at the temples, 2five years on the force.
He takes one look at the scene and his jaw sets. Judge Laurent, I’m Sergeant Thompson.”I am so deeply sorry for what happened here.” “Sergeant, I need this scene preserved as evidence.” Every inch of it already done, your honor.”Crime scene unit is two minutes out.” Whitmore is still on his knees, still crying.
Mills stands apart, giving his statement to Agent Kim in a low voice. Eleanor approaches with a towel.”Simone, honey, you need to get warm.” Simone accepts it gratefully, wraps it around her shoulders. She’s shaking from cold and shock and adrenaline finally crashing.
“Eleanor, you were brave.” “Thank you.” Brave.”You’re the brave one, dear.” More official vehicles arrive. Internal affairs, crime scene investigators. Yellow tape goes up around the lawn.
Simone’s phone rings. She looks at the screen. Her husband “James.” His voice explodes through the speaker.”Simone, I just saw the news.” “Are you okay?” “I’m leaving the hospital right now.” “I’m okay.” “I’m okay.” “Come home.” 10 minutes.
I’m coming. She hangs up. Looks at her house. Her sanctuary now.
A crime scene. Yellow tape across her rose bushes. Chief Winterss’s car pulls up. The chief herself steps out.
White woman, early 50s, uniform crisp, face set in hard lines. She walks directly to “Simone.” “Judge Laurent, I cannot express how horrified I am.” “Your apologies mean nothing without action, Chief.” “You’ll have action.” “I promise you that.” Chief Winterss turns to Whitmore, still on his knees in the mud.”Derek Whitmore, stand up.” He struggles to his feet, legs shaking.”Badge, gun, all department property now.” Mills steps forward, hands over Whitmore’s badge and service weapon.
The chief takes them, holds them up. 1five years of service, ended in one hour of hatred. She drops them into an evidence bag. Whitmore’s face is blank now.
