“State your name and relationship to the inmate.”
“Zahara Ali. I’m his son’s mother.”
Meech’s eyes narrowed.
“Demetrius is a good father,” she continued, her voice mechanical. “He’s always cared about Yusef. I know my son wants his father home.”
She was lying. I could hear it. And she still wouldn’t look at Meech.
She sat back down, trembling.
Meech kept staring at her. Something shifting in his expression. Confusion turning to suspicion. Suspicion turning to recognition.
The board deliberated. Returned.
“Mr. Walker, this board has decided to grant your request for parole. You will be released in three weeks.”
Rashid exhaled with relief. Yusef shifted uncomfortably.
Zahara went rigid.
We filed out of the hearing room into the hallway.
Rashid was talking about next steps, logistics for Meech’s release. Yusef walked beside me, quiet. Zahara was already moving toward the exit, head down, walking fast.
Then I heard the door open behind us.
Meech was being escorted out by guards, heading the opposite direction. But when he saw us in the hallway, he stopped.
His eyes locked on Zahara’s back.
“ZAINAB!”
The name echoed off the concrete walls.
Zahara froze.
“ZAINAB!” Meech was fighting against the guards now, straining toward us. “WHERE IS ZAHARA? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HER?”
The hallway went silent.
Rashid turned, confusion on his face.
Yusef’s eyes went wide with terror.
And Zahara—she still hadn’t moved. Still had her back to him.
“THAT’S NOT ZAHARA!” Meech growled. “THAT’S HER TWIN SISTER! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY BABY MAMA?”
The guards finally pulled him through the door. It slammed shut, cutting off his voice.
But the damage was done.
I walked around to face her.
Her eyes were closed. Tears streaming down her cheeks. Her whole body trembling.
Rashid stood frozen, confusion all over his face.
