“I’m not giving any attitude, sir,” Marcus replied, his gaze locked straight ahead rather than meeting the officer’s eyes. Another lesson from his father’s careful instructions about surviving encounters like this. “And I’m not trespassing. I live here.”
Officer Delaney had finished rifling through the gym bag, finding nothing of interest, and turned his attention to Marcus’s pockets. “Empty them,” he commanded, gesturing impatiently. Marcus slowly reached into his sweatpants pockets, producing only his phone, house key, and some loose change.
Officer Delaney snatched the phone from his hand, examining the lock screen—a photo of Marcus with his father at a law school fundraiser.
“Fancy phone for a kid,” Delaney remarked, turning it over in his hand. “Where’d you get this? Who’d you take it from?”
“It’s my phone,” Marcus said, a note of frustration finally creeping into his voice despite his best efforts. “My father got it for me for my birthday last year.”
Morrison moved closer, crowding Marcus from the other side. “Your father, who works for the state government, right? The one who bought that million-dollar house on Oakwood.
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.”
