Later never happened.

I didn't hear from Leo that day or the next day. By the next day after that, I was thinking about calling him myself.

But then I realized that was what he wanted. To keep me in this stupid game of cat and mouse. I was doing fine before I saw him at the park and I could be fine again.

So, as spring break was drawing to an end and Darcy would be coming home in the next day, I decided to continue living my best life and make the most of the time I had left.

To start my final day alone, I needed to head to the bank to withdraw some money for the week. My lovely little beater roared to life with the turn of my key and in a moment, I was off. The warm weather didn't last at all and once again, I had to be in a full jacket-scarf-glove combo.

Stupid groundhog.

I pulled into the parking lot and groaned at the cars that were already parked there. What was it with old people and being at the bank so early in the morning? I walked into the bank, sighed at the long queue and then made eye contact with the older cop hanging around in the back who smiled at me.

I gave him a partial smile back before going to one of the tables to fill out a withdrawal slip.

While I stood in line—waiting forever because the one counter was closed, the next had a patron who couldn't understand how he'd overdrafted his account, the third had an old woman who was talking about all that was going on with her three children and five grandchildren, and the last was the only one moving at a reasonable speed, but I was sure someone soon would hold it up again—Mr. Harris walked in and immediately began chatting as loud as ever to the on-duty cop.

Mr. Harris was one of those townsfolk that everyone knew because he made sure to be known by everyone.

"I cannot believe the news right now," Harris told him and the cop gave him a nod in understanding, "I don't care what that video looks like, Scott is a good man. That thug had it coming. Serves him right for the way he was acting."

I had absolutely no idea what Harris was going on about, but just the mention of him calling someone a thug drew my full attention.

Harris, although old, was quick on his feet and a very involved senior citizen. He turned around then, scanning the line to—what I presumed—see any familiar faces. Although I knew him, I was sure he didn't actually know me by name which was such a blessing.

"Good morning, Sally." Harris called a woman further ahead of me in line. She smiled back.

"Morning. It's an absolute shame what's going on in the news right now. That video was just far too graphic. Now this town is probably going to be covered all across the nation." She responded and the gears in my brain started turning.

Something happened in town that would get national coverage? Something that everyone, but me, already knew about?

"I feel bad for Scott and his family right now. I've known him for years and he's always been an amazing officer to this town." Another old man chimed in.

Harris hummed his agreement, "I'm sure Johnny will make a statement on his behalf. I just wonder if that new rookie partner of his will say something. What do you think?" Harris adjusted his focus to the police officer who'd been mostly quiet.

"I personally don't know enough of the details, but the captain will fill us in soon enough."

"Do you think that man will die?" Sally asked and my heart sank.

Although I didn't have all the pieces of this story together, I could gather that something bad happened between a cop and a man, and he might die? And if I knew this town well enough, there was only one new rookie Mr. Harris could've been referring to.

Leo.

My stomach twisted in a knot and I had to step out of line. The bad feeling I got in my gut was almost overwhelming. It felt like one of the nightmares I'd had where I'd wake up in a panic. Except, somewhere deep down, I knew I wasn't going to wake up out of this.

I went straight home, forgetting my plans for the day and immediately flicked on the TV. I changed the channel to the local news and as they were going over the weather for the week I went to my room and grabbed my laptop. I went back into the living room and plopped down onto the couch, pulling up Google and searching recent news for our town.

Numerous articles from the night before into the morning popped up and my eyes landed on one that read, Middle-aged Man Shot in Traffic Stop. I opened the link and skimmed through, feeling nothing but dread set in. At the next town over, in an impoverished neighborhood, a black man was in a routine traffic stop when Officer Scott Wheeler shot him. He was now in critical condition at the hospital and there wasn't an update on Scott. I scrolled some more and saw that there was added footage from a bystander at a nearby house who taped it on their phone.

My mouth went dry and I felt dizzy. I didn't know whether or not I should click on the video, but felt a strong overwhelming sense that I needed to. Like it was my duty to bear witness to this. Like I needed to know exactly what happened.

I clicked the play button and on this shaky vertical video, you could just barely see Officer Wheeler pulling the man, who's name I learned was Gregory Thomas, out of his own car. It was already nearly dark out, but thanks to the street lights, you could still make out what was going on. Gregory pushed him back, Scott stumbled before stepping in closer and was grabbed by Gregory. There were two other officers who came into view at that moment, but kept some distance as one grabbed a gun. Scott and Gregory seemed to scuffle for a moment, the car blocking most of the view and the cameraman tried to get a better angle and blocking the image for a second with a finger, before Gregory was pushed back and you could see Scott reach for something before the sound of a gunshot.

I jumped in my seat and shut the laptop immediately. Before I could process all that I was thinking, tears started spilling out of the corner of my eyes.

The commercial break on TV ended and the newscasters were on, talking about the hot commotion going on in town.

"We're still getting updates on the events that took place last evening, but as we wait on an official statement to be released by the police department, our reporter, Amanda Dooley has interviewed some family and friends of Gregory Thomas." The newscaster said and I watched him and his co-host as they looked as professional as ever, "Again, we have footage of the incident posted on our website and Facebook page as we try and uncover what led to a routine traffic stop ending in one citizen shot and in critical condition by a local police officer."

The TV screen switched to an image of Scoot Wheeler from the police academy, looking done up in his uniform, rather than a mugshot. I saw the content look on his face before I had to shut the TV off in disgust.

A wave of emotion hit me and I couldn't tell which feeling I felt stronger. It all meshed together, making me feel both empty and completely full of dread. I felt like I might've thrown up.

Before I could settle on thinking, I knew I needed to be around someone.

I headed back out of the house, trying to focus all of my thoughts on something completely different. After puppies and even counting sheep couldn't stop the images of the video from flooding my mind, I was finally able to settle down by going through the multiplication table. I went through all the multiples of two, then three and kept going up from there until I reached my parents house. I had reached nine times five when I unlocked the door with my key and headed in.

My dad was on the couch, watching sports when I entered the living room.

"Where's mom?" I asked, my voice already quivering.

"She's at the grocery store, que paso?" He asked, pausing the game.

I went over to him and sat on the couch, looking at the screen with the players paused in the middle of a run. "Have you seen the news?" I asked him.

"No, not recently. What happened, Cala?" He asked again, still trying to assess the situation.

"Another man was shot by a cop. A white cop shot a black man. This guy might die, dad." I told him and couldn't stop the tears from falling.

Without another word, my dad pulled me into him and I cried into his shirt, sobbing like I was personally related to this man. I didn't know a thing about him or his family, but I couldn't help feeling both sad and angry for him. Sad that this had to happen to him and angry that our judicial system kept allowing these things to happen. Our whole system of laws was completely messed up and it sucked to know that I couldn't prevent it. That I didn't know how to stop it.

And there was another issue on my mind that I hadn't stopped thinking about from the moment I left the bank to when I watched the video, trying to take in all the people in the scene. Leo had to be Scott's partner. Leo, who was involved in this corrupt business and even held it in high esteem. Could Leo be involved in this too?

What was happening?

✖✖✖

I woke up in my old bedroom by my mother lightly tapping on me. As my puffy eyelids unstuck from each other, I felt drained. I sat up and looked at my mom, who my brother and I took after very closely. She scrunched her eyebrows together, probably after seeing what a mess I looked like. I couldn't see myself, but knew my face must have been blotchy and my hair was falling out of the ponytail it was in.

She pulled me into a hug and I was just happy I didn't start crying again.

"Dad told me what happened and then we saw it on the news." She told me and I nodded my head. I looked around my room, seeing the posters of boy bands including Big Time Rush and the Jonas Brothers. "Do you want to stay the night? I'm making arroz con habichuelas for dinner. I can rent a movie?" She offered.

I finally looked at her. As much as she got on my nerves when I lived with her, she really wasn't so bad from a distance. "I just feel like I don't do enough." I told her, letting it all out.

She wrapped an arm around me and rubbed my shoulder, "Niña, you can't put this on yourself. You know that," She told me and I just focused my attention to the mood board Darcy helped me create in tenth grade. Whereas hers was actively updated, mine hadn't changed since that day we made it. "But if you don't feel like you're doing enough, why don't you do more?" She added and I finally looked at her. "Talk to Judge Wiedemann or start a petition. You can even do some research and write about it. Publish it to a journal. You might not be able to do much, but you can always do something." She said and I considered her words.

Why hadn't I done more? All I did was avoid the laws I thought were useless, but did I ever think to actually do more? Do some actual good for others and not just for my own selfish disagreements. "You're right." I finally said.

She smiled and pulled me into a hug, "Tu mamá sabe mejor." She told me and I rolled my eyes. We released the hug and she looked at me for a moment longer, "Go pick a movie on Amazon while I finish cooking."

"Okay," I told her and got off the bed with a newfound determination. I wasn't sure what I'd do, considering I wasn't the strongest writer and knew my petition wouldn't get far in our small town, but despite all that, I knew I was going to do something.

And that was what mattered most.

++++++

Author's Note: And so things shift... I've come to another moment where I want to alter the entire rest of the story and expand it heavily. However, my brain has been feeling super fried recently and won't give me good, complete ideas. Super frustrating. 

Where do you draw inspiration from? 

Thanks for reading,

-Criss