Summer Wild ✔️

Chapter Fourteen

Death changed everything.

Many attended the funeral of the victim of police brutality as touted in the press and their triggering headlines.

Soon, protests broke out, some fragmented while others more harmonious, whipped to a frenzy by social media. It led to more clashes with law enforcement almost every night since the burial.

Motivated by the overwhelming social activism, Charlotte started capturing the emotions and the angst of the everyday folks who rallied for an impending change.

She saw it firsthand. The raw desire of the protestors who marshalled for a life that was snuffed too soon. There was no subtlety to what people felt, demanded and commiserated about.

Knowing Aiden would worry about her attending the rallies, she didn't tell him about her recent whereabouts. When he did call her in the last four days, she never picked up and made random excuses, ranging from being in the shower to hanging out with Gigi, who was back from the holidays.

Her boyfriend was conflicted as his former partner was in the thick of it all. His old precinct was caught in the middle of public backlash. The head of the police department in the state, including senator Sullivan, had to appeal to the city to remain calm and allow the Middle Easterner's family to grieve in private.

Charlotte had stifled her disgust at the press conference by Edward Sullivan. He was grasping at tragedy to repair his tattered reputation, which was in the doghouse. The destruction of his image had been masterminded by those close to him. His son, Thomas, remained tight-lipped, but her family saw the smoke even when there was no fire.

Flynn and his unit had followed the protocols for the arrest. Things had taken a nasty turn when the culprits had resisted. It had given the police the power to use batons to coerce submission. No shots had been fired. There was no smoking gun. In the scuffle that broke out, grotesque bruises and mild to serious injuries had to be attended to in the aftermath. Three critical cases had been rushed to the hospital by the paramedics where one nineteen-year-old boy, due to the trauma to his head, took his last breath.

The police had used unnecessary force to arrest the three minors and two young adults. The boiling anger had erupted at the news of the deceased and spilled on the streets.

At first, Charlotte had lugged her camera and heavy lenses around to click the bobbing placards appealing for the elusive justice for the late Ibrahim bin Toma. Then, for practical reasons, she decided to use her Apple iPhone to take snaps of the passionate demonstration by the activists who meant business regardless of what the president said.

As Charlotte documented the throbbing fury which pulsated through the crowd around her, she heard someone yell, "Why do these rich whites have everything? What about us?"

A cluster of people close to her roared their approval.

"He is right. We have to take what's our due. Nobody ain't gonna give us anything," a middle-aged woman shouted.

A man, whose head was covered in a hoodie, carried a crowbar. "Let's break into the stores there. If we can't afford it, we take it."

There was a hesitant murmur by those who had stopped, along with Charlotte, to listen to this guy. The others continued their peaceful march to the police station nearby. They stared, somewhat bewildered, at this impromptu crusader who tempted them to do the unthinkable.

Before she could fathom what was happening, the wayward group broke the rank from others and headed towards the shops nearby. Then, a smash of glass pierced through the chants, which demanded accountability of the men in uniform.