This Is My America(82)

“Let’s go.” Jamal closes his eyes.

Steve joins him; Beverly flanks the other side.

“I gotta cuff you, Jamal,” she says. “I won’t do it tight. It’s just to settle the officers outside so they can relax, okay? Take a breath now.”

Jamal takes a long breath. A tear slides down his cheek. When he squares his shoulders, my heart bursts with pride. He won’t let them break him.



Officer Clyde leads all of us out of the house, leaving Jamal, Beverly, and Steve inside.

Eventually, Beverly walks out with Jamal and Steve. My throat constricts because I want Jamal to be seen clear as day. Unarmed. Not a threat. Jackson’s death replays in my mind as if it’s all happening again.

As soon as I think about the past repeating, Quincy puts his hand on my shoulder and holds me tight. He shook himself out of his fear and is now looking at me to calm down. I don’t have the words to speak. I hate that I have this thought that history is going to replay itself. It paralyzes me.

I swallow hard and focus on watching Jamal. He walks out in a T-shirt and pants, leaving his thin hoodie inside. He’s so hesitant, moving slowly. He makes his way down the steps. Sheriff Brighton approaches Beverly, but she waves him off. Jamal’s not going to be calm if he thinks the sheriff won’t listen. We all watch helplessly because we know once Jamal’s in the police car, there’s little we can do.

I glance at Steve, trying to keep Jamal calm.

“Tracy.” Quincy takes my attention away. “Jamal will be okay.” His eyes are sure. He’s convinced. I try to nod, but I notice a movement beyond the police line.

Richard Brighton is edging forward. No one seems concerned as he approaches his brother.

I look over at Jamal, then at Richard. This isn’t good.

Sheriff Brighton sees his brother, and his face turns firm. I’m stuck between running closer and fear that if I cause a distraction, it will create an aggressive response.



I can’t hear what Sheriff Brighton says, but he seems to be trying to control the situation, explaining to Richard what’s going on. Richard goes from excited to furious. He must have been asked about the gun.

Sheriff Brighton is now talking sternly; he puts his hand on his brother, directing him to his car, but Richard’s not listening. He’s getting more and more agitated.

“He killed a white girl—my nephew’s girlfriend,” Richard yells. “I have a right to be here.”

Beverly notices the commotion and hurries to move Jamal into the police car. Richard pivots around the sheriff and steps toward Jamal, like he’s going to tackle him.

Jamal shifts; he’s getting ready to run with hands cuffed behind his back. Anything to protect himself from Richard.

Richard yells, “Gun!”

I hear it before I see it.

A gun goes off.

Someone is screaming.

Beverly and Jamal drop to the ground. Steve crouches, hands over his head. Mama’s wail freezes my blood.

Sheriff Brighton tackles his brother.

Beverly is lying over Jamal’s body.

Officer Clyde yells, “Halt!”

The chaos is a cacophony in my ears. I’m the one screaming.

Jamal’s been shot.





RELIEF AND PAIN


I can’t stay frozen any longer. I have to move closer.

“Jamal!” I scream, pushing my way toward him.

“He’s fine. He’s fine. He’s fine.” Quincy got there first and rushes back to my side to stop me.

I have to see for myself. Because all I see is black on the ground, in the darkness.

When I get closer, Jamal is sitting up. Steve’s next to him. He’s reaching for Beverly, who’s slumped over.

No, no, no, no.

“Call a bus!” Officer Clyde waves wildly for everyone to put their weapons away. “Officer down! Officer down!”

He immediately begins to administer aid to Beverly. I realize I’m rocking in place, mumbling “no” over and over again and yet feeling relief at seeing Jamal unhurt at the same time. It’s all too much. Beverly is one of the best of us.



“She was taking him in,” Officer Clyde shouts at no one in particular.

There’s chaos among the officers, guns drawn, but I can’t tell who fired the shot.

Sheriff Brighton has cuffed Richard and is waving another officer to take him into a police car. Then the sheriff orders everyone, “Weapons down! Weapons down!”

Quincy is frozen, watching Beverly. I hold him while Officer Clyde continues to administer aid, trying to stop the bleeding.

Officers join in helping Beverly and clear out space for when the ambulance arrives. Jamal’s been placed in the back of a police car, cuffed, leaning on the glass, watching them help her. Our gazes meet. What does this mean?

An officer moves out of the way, and I can finally make out Beverly talking while she lies on the ground.

“It’s her shoulder,” I say to Quincy. He steps closer, but an officer pushes him back. Mama and Corinne join us. I pull Corinne close. Curve my body over hers like a protective shell. Mama puts her hand over Quincy, who’s at my side.

Pain pushes out of my chest and up through my throat, like rocks are filling me up until I can’t breathe. Helpless watching Beverly.