I turned to see Brandi running toward the tape, her face twisted with a terror I recognized because I’d felt it seconds ago.
“MY BABY!” She was screaming, fighting against the officers trying to hold her back. “THAT’S MY BABY! LET ME SEE MY BABY!”
“Ma’am, you need to calm down?—”
“DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! THAT’S MY SON!” She broke through one officer’s grip, ducked under the tape, got three steps before two more grabbed her. “NIGEL! NIGEL, BABY, MOMMY’S HERE!”
I moved toward her without thinking. Reached for her. Tried to pull her into my arms.
“Brandi, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry?—”
“Ma’am.” A female officer stepped between us, separating us firmly. “Are you family?”
“No, I’m her friend. Our sons are friends. Please, let me?—”
“I need you to step back. Ms. Thompson needs to speak with the detectives.”
“Brandi!” I called out as they led her away. “I’m here! I’m right here!”
But she wasn’t listening. Wasn’t hearing anything except the sound of her own heart breaking.
I stood there behind the yellow tape, tears streaming down my face, watching them take my friend away from the body of her child.
Sweet, helpful Nigel who’d shown up at the gala in his little black shirt looking so proud to be part of something. Who’d asked intelligent questions about running a business. Who’d been nothing but kind to me and Yusef.
Gone. Just like that.
Who would do this? Who would shoot a twelve-year-old boy?
I thought about all the times Yusef had come home beaten and bruised. All the bullies he’d talked about but never named. All the violence that seemed to follow our children no matter how hard we tried to protect them.
This neighborhood was killing our kids. One way or another, it was killing them.
I wiped my face and turned away from the scene. I needed to find Yusef. Needed to hold him. Needed to make sure he was okay and tell him what happened before he heard it from someone else.
Nigel was his friend. This was going to destroy him.
I walked toward my building on shaking legs, leaving my grocery bags wherever they’d fallen. Food didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered except getting to him. An eerie feeling washed over me as I moved throughout my home.
“Yusef?” I called out, closing the door behind me. “Baby, are you home?”
No answer.
I checked the kitchen. Empty. The living room. Empty. The bathroom door was open, no one inside.
“Yusef?”
My heart started pounding again. That same fear from the crime scene creeping back in.
I walked down the short hallway to his bedroom. The door was closed.
“Yu? You in there?”
Nothing.
I pushed the door open.
And my world stopped.
