This Is My America(25)
“Chris looked like he got into a fight, but he walked out, so they weren’t arresting him. Not like the sheriff would do that to his own son.”
My phone vibrates, and I pull it out.
Jamal.
How is Ma?
This looks bad. Jamal, what happened to Angela?
I didn’t do it.
What should we do?
DON’T tell Mama you heard from me.
Meet me?
I can’t. Gotta keep moving.
Do you have enough to get by?
A few days. Don’t worry about me.
What can I do?
Take care of Mama. Corinne.
Who killed Angela?
I wait for a second longer, but he doesn’t text again.
I want Jamal to come home. But if he doesn’t, the cops are taking him in. When they took Daddy from our house, that was the last time we saw him not behind bars. Except in the courtroom. I used to pretend he was the lawyer, all suited up, trying someone’s case. I couldn’t pretend that any longer when the decision guilty crossed the lips of every juror.
Jamal is in the same boat now, and things don’t look good. But I have to believe I know my brother better than anyone. Then prove it to the world before it swallows him whole.
Friday, May 7
Stephen Jones, Esq.
Innocence X Headquarters
1111 Justice Road
Birmingham, Alabama 35005
Re: Death Penalty—Intake Department Dear Mr. Jones, “Let us realize the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”
This saying is etched outside your main office. I saw it in all your photos. I got a question: Dr. King wrote this and Obama believed it, but how can it be true if it seems like everything is going backward? Does it mean a hundred years from now someone else won’t go through the same pain that my family’s been through? Because if that’s what you believe, then what about me? What about my family? Do I have to lose my daddy? My brother? Because if people just wait enough years, laws will change. I’m not trying to be funny. I really want to know. Because right now I’m looking for something to make me feel hopeful, and I’ve got nothing.
Please review James Beaumont’s application (#1756).
Thank you for your time.
Tracy Beaumont
FAMILY MATTERS
On Saturday morning, I visit Tasha’s to catch up on school the past few days, but when I enter her house, I can feel the tension. I don’t know what I walked into, but they act like I’m not even here. Everyone is gathered in the kitchen.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Tasha says.
“We’ll see about what I can and can’t do,” Daddy Greg says.
“You gonna be around long enough to make sure I don’t?”
“I’m not taking this shit from you. You might have got away with this before, but I’m not letting you talk like this in my house.”
“Your house? Ha! I’ve paid as much of the bills as you, more even.”
“Tasha, you stop this right now,” Tasha’s mom says. “The both of you. I won’t have this talk in my house. Let’s be clear. This is my house. Besides, we got guests. Tracy don’t wanna hear this bickering when she got bigger things to think about.”
She wraps her arms around me, holding me tight. “Excuse their manners, Tracy.”
“Sorry, I just came in,” I say.
“Girl, you family. No need to apologize. I just wish they’d both act civil around here. I can’t take it.”
“I’m sorry.” Daddy Greg kisses Ms. Candice’s forehead.
She shoos him to the front of the house, and I follow Tasha to her room.
I was trying to get away by coming here. Jamal is hurt, gone. Mama is lost, stressed. But I’m now consoling Tasha. We have so much in common, except she’s turned to stone. I know I’m the only one who can bring her back. I touch Tasha’s hand to warm her and pretend it doesn’t hurt when she flinches.
“What was that all about?”
“He thinks he can come back and tell me what to do,” Tasha says. “Like I gotta ask him for permission. Where the hell’s he been if he wanted to play daddy so much?”
I rub Tasha’s back to comfort her.
“I’m annoying. Sorry.” Finally, she smiles. “I’m glad you came by. I was gonna head to you.”
“I had to get out, too. It’s suffocating being home.”
“I know the feeling.” She squeezes my hand.
“You hear anything at school?” I ask, studying Tasha.
“Nah. Bunch of rumors.” Tasha’s eyes cut away. “You know how school gets. Things were crazy, though. We barely had class. First period, people were just crying, and then they had an assembly to share the news. Grief counselors came, and they’ll be there next week, too.”
“They say anything about Jamal?” I hold my breath. I know it’s bad. That’s why I came by today, because Tasha wasn’t saying much on the phone, trying to protect me.
“A little on Jamal, but mostly everyone feeling sad about Angela. The school is split. You know how it goes.”
“Black and white?”