This Is My America(80)

Jamal can’t speak because Mama has him all tangled up in her arms—kissing him and hugging him.

It takes me too long to notice that Mama’s not alone.





ALL OUT OF OPTIONS


Beverly’s hands are filled with grocery bags. Quincy stands, holds steady by me as he studies his sister. She stays standing in her police uniform, watching Mama hug Jamal. For a moment, there’s joy in her eyes. She keeps the bags in her hands and goes to meet him, too.

“Jamal. You’re safe.” She side hugs him. Jamal is tense, overwhelmed.

Beverly pauses, catching herself from being lost in the moment. She’s back on duty. She can’t drive away and pretend she didn’t see Jamal. The law doesn’t work that way.

Mama looks to me, then Steve. Jamal checks Beverly out; she’s between him and the door. His gaze moves to Corinne, who’s watching shyly. Like she’s not certain what to do. The room goes quiet when Mama sees our expressions.



A prickle runs up my neck. Jamal breaks the stillness to take a small bag from Corinne and lift her up.

“You’re back.” Corinne hugs around his neck.

“I been here this whole time, Bighead. Where you been?”

My eyes water. I inch closer to Mama and Corinne all loving on Jamal. Warming myself with their happiness. It doesn’t seem to matter that this moment won’t last. We fool ourselves into thinking that as long as we’re huddled together and Beverly holds those bags, we can go on like this forever. I eye Steve, willing him to fix things. He gives me a nod. He’s going to try.

Steve approaches Beverly. “I’m from Innocence X and will be representing James Beaumont. Jamal is my newest client, though. Did they find the gun?”

“Jamal also?” Beverly’s heard about Steve, but for Daddy, not Jamal. We all know this is big. She’s too shocked to speak. She nods, confirming they found the gun.

Beverly turns to us.

“I have to take Jamal in.” She puts the grocery bags down. “I came by to question Tracy about the gun, but I can’t walk away after seeing Jamal.”

The room changes the moment Beverly’s hands are free.

“Beverly, let’s listen to what Jamal has to say.” Mama has her arms wrapped around Jamal, pleading.

“I ain’t going in!” Jamal raises his voice for the first time, and that quietness that kept everything calm vanishes.

“I’ve known you forever.” Beverly extends her free hand to Jamal. “I’d never want to hurt you, but I took an oath. You know you can trust me.”



“Like my pops? Like how yours went down? I ain’t going in. You’re gonna have to shoot me.”

I can’t help a gasp escaping.

Beverly shakes her head. “It doesn’t need to be like that. I’ll call in some of my guys I trust. Newer ones. Have enough people to—”

“No.” Jamal stays firm. “I ain’t going in. I don’t trust your people, Bev.”

“If you won’t come with me, I’ve got to call it in.”

“Then call it in, Officer Ridges. Because I ain’t leaving this house.”

Beverly winces at Jamal’s formality. Corinne clutches Jamal as we all watch in disbelief. It’s like the world is ending right in front of me. Jamal trusted me, and I failed him.

“But what about that gun? Chris and Justin at the Pike.” Quincy waves her off. “Now what’s he gonna do? Every officer out there’s looking for him. You think they’re going to bring him in alive, like they did Dad?”

“Don’t talk about Dad.” Beverly grimaces.

“I know exactly what officers do when they think somebody’s guilty. Even if it means taking down everyone around them.” Quincy taps his leg.

“I’m not doing this with you right now, Quincy. I know you don’t like it, but I’m trying to do better. Be better. Change things my way.”



“How’s taking him in bring justice to Angela?” I say. “What happened at the Pike?”

“Chris still claims Jamal killed Angela,” Beverly says. “Says he was out at the Pike looking for evidence. Angela wasn’t murdered with a gun, so they don’t think it means anything. They’re…they’re still convinced it’s Jamal.”

“Spinning it.” I give Beverly a scowl. “The last time this happened to us, my daddy was dragged, jailed, sentenced, and sent to death row in less than a year. What should Jamal have done?”

“Damn, Tracy,” Beverly says. “I don’t know.”

“Do you think Jamal’s guilty?”

Beverly doesn’t answer me.

“You’re supposed to be a cop. To protect and to serve.” I pause, deciding if I should say more. I can’t hold it in. “It doesn’t mean you can’t think for yourself.”

“You think I don’t?”

“What about your dad? Do you think he deserved to die? That he was guilty?” I can see how much the memory pains her. Quincy winces as her eyes begin to tear.

“He first taught me how to shoot, right there on that field.” Beverly points down the road from the thicket of trees toward Tasha’s neighborhood. “I’m a cop because of what happened to my dad. He wouldn’t want fear to control me. I couldn’t think of anything else that would make him prouder than to protect our family. I don’t know what happened with your dad or Jamal, but they deserve justice like everyone else. If I can help be a part of bringing justice, the right way, I want that.”