Tag Archives: Baltimore Riots

The Other Side

“Time to go,” he said as he finished his coffee and rose from the breakfast table. His uniform was fresh and clean, the badge of his office was gleaming, his sidearm securely strapped in its holster. “I’ll be coming straight home after work, unless you want me to pick something up,” he said to his wife as she handed him his lunch box.

“If you come home,” she said. She wore a blue checked maternity shirt that shrouded her near term pregnancy. An infant boy was in a high chair, finger painting the tray with his oatmeal.

“Not to worry, love,” the young police officer said, “I’ve got the west side today, the business sector, and that’s fairly calm most of the time.”

She looked at him, straightened his tie a little, and gave him a perfunctory kiss. “Sure, sure,” she said,
“but sooner or later you’ll get the south side and it’s open season on cops there.”

“You know we take every precaution. We all have cameras and wear body armor in the danger zones and no one travels alone,” the officer said as he returned his wife’s kiss. “I trust my partner to cover my back,” he said, “and he hasn’t let me down yet.” In truth, dangerous as the job was, he’d been lucky. He hadn’t drawn his weapon in the line of duty in the three years he’d been patrolling the streets of the city.

She took the tray from the seat belted infant and rinsed it off in the sink. “How about if I don’t trust him at all?” she asked.

He kissed her again and gave her a sheepish smile. “Someone has to stand between the ‘powah of the dark side’ and the innocent folks just trying to get by,” he said. “I got plenty of experience handling knuckleheads in the military police, I can take care of myself. Someone has to do it; I’m qualified and capable, hon. And I keep my eyes open, I won’t put myself in unnecessary danger.”

“Yeah, when you see it coming,” she said. “But they’re shooting cops with high powered rifles from blocks away. You ‘d never know what hit you.”

“There hasn’t been anything like that in our city, so far,” he said.

“So far . . .” she reiterated with a great sigh. She looked him in the eyes and he could see the wheels turning behind those big blues. “Why does it have to be you?” she asked, “You have a family, we need you.”

“I know that,” he said, “but don’t you see that by making the world a little safer for John Q. Citizen I’m making it safer for you and the kids?” He turned and walked to the backdoor and turned the knob. “Nothing’s going to happen. I’ll be here for you—promise,” he said and gave her his most winning smile.

She knew he kept his promises but she also knew this one was beyond his power to guarantee. He’s a moral guy and he’s doing what he thinks is right and she loved him for it. She pushed her fear aside and smiled at him as she replaced the tray on the boy’s chair. “That’s one I will hold you to, officer.”

He pulled the door shut behind him, walked down the five wooden steps to the drive where his car was parked. He knew she was right, every cop, good or bad, has a target painted on his forehead these days. So why am I doing this? he asked himself. Living in fear is stressful and takes its toll on a man—and his family. Plenty of fear to go around these days. There are other ways to serve the community. Maybe become a fireman? But they’re getting shot these days too.

So why am I doing this? he thought as he pulled the door to his car open and got inside. The only thing he could think of as he pulled out onto the street and headed toward the station was: “It’s the right thing to do.”

Mama Told Me Not to Come

Matt and Imamu looked at themselves in the floor-length mirror. “Now we look like proper Jihadis,” Imamu said with a hidden grin. “Let’s go, the funeral’s almost over.”

Covered in black cloth from head to toe with only a small strip to see through, the two looked like they just stepped in from the desert locales where all the videos came from. All they needed was the AK47. Matt looked up at his mentor, larger and older than himself and thought they looked dark and dangerous, powerful. He liked the feeling.

Imamu owned and operated the laundromat where Matt’s mom used to do their wash, before she got her own washer and dryer. He loved his Moms; she had worked so hard, overtime every day, to save up enough for that little luxury. Matt was glad because he had to help her carry the wash down the street from their 4th floor apartment and then back again. He met Imamu at the laundromat one afternoon when the man was maintaining his machines.

Imamu took an immediate shine to the young boy and Matt, fatherless, responded in kind. Also a cleric for the local mosque, Imamu spent much time initiating the boy in the teachings of Mohammed, liberally salted with radical politics. Matt’s mom, a staunch, practicing Southern Baptist who took Matt to church every Sunday, didn’t care much for Islam but thought it was important her son be allowed to make up his own mind about what to believe. She trusted her son. Matt, basically a good kid, wasn’t ready to convert to Islam but he did find it interesting. He didn’t mention the politics to her because Imamu said not to, she wouldn’t understand.

A lot of people were on the street near the church where the funeral of another black victim of horrible police brutality was coming to a close. There were many signs, from home made jobs—cardboard and magic markers, to professionally printed placards with big red letters. “No Justice, No Peace!” most of them said.

The two black clad men went into the crowd. “Ahh, over here,” Imamu said and they went over to a group of others similarly clad as themselves. He saw Femi, one of his best friends and another of Imamu’s erstwhile disciples.

Imamu was in animated conversation with another adult in black clothing. “All we have to do is get it started,” the other said. “Then sit back and let it play out.” The man pointed to a drug store down the street. “Station some men down there,” he said. “and have them throw some bricks through the storefront windows when I give the signal.”

Imamu collected Matt and Femi and they began to make their way down the street. They passed animated protestors who faced grim, stony faced, armored police, palpable tension on a slow boil. Demonstrators shouted a cacophony, together and at random: “No justice, no peace!”, “Don’t shoot!”, “Black lives matter!”

They were almost to the drugstore when Femi said, “Hey, Matt, isn’t that your moms?”

The moment Matt looked to where Femi was pointing, he saw that it was his mother and, in the same instant, she locked eyes with him. She can’t know it’s me, he thought, not in this costume. He was wrong.

“Matthew Johnson Davis! I know it’s you!” she said as she rushed up to him like a charging bear. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She slapped him ‘upside his head’ and grabbed at his hood, trying to pull it off. She shot a glare at Imamu, “You did this,” she scowled fiercely, “I know what you’re up to and I won’t let you get away with it!” Matt had never seen his moms so angry and was afraid.

Imamu only stared back. She couldn’t see the quivering smile behind his mask.

She slapped at her son again, “You get home and get that hateful clothing off right now!” she nearly screamed. “Get moving or I’ll kick your black ass the whole way! MOVE!” This she did scream at the top of her lungs.

She harried him down the street, away from the demonstration. “I didn’t work my ass off my whole life so we could live decently, so we could have some peace and quiet, some small happiness, some kind of future, just so some moron kid can go burn it all down. What the hell are you thinking, Matthew? I thought I taught you better. I thought I taught you the important things. You’d better get your priorities straight, kid!” She went upside his head again.

Imamu watched them as they left the scene. That woman’s trouble, he thought, I’d better stay away from her . . . and her kid.