The rain fell on the ground, and voices got louder and sharper. Lucretia’s voice could be heard in the dark. Rogers kept going. The tension got worse, just like the heat in Florida.
Lucretia had a green bag that was falling apart. She didn’t say anything when she gave it to her young daughter. Her small fingers wrapped around the strap, and her eyes were wide open because of how heavy the moment was.
The world slowed down. Someone yelled. Rogers took a step back, opened his hands, and begged. There was a loud bang like thunder. Rogers fell, and when she saw the girl, she looked like she was in pain. Silence spread out and drowned out all other sounds.
“That’s what you get for messing with my mama,” the girl said, her voice shaking and barely above a whisper. People couldn’t believe what they saw, and it broke their hearts.
The sirens were loud and had to be heard. People in the area gathered together, their tears shining in the light from the streetlights. There was no more life. A child will never be the same again. There were still questions in the heavy air: how did it get this bad? How could a young person handle so much sadness?
While the police talked to Lucretia quietly but firmly, she sat on the curb with her hands shaking. She couldn’t change her mind about the choices she had made. Someone across the street whispered about Rogers, saying that she helped kids with their homework and always smiled, even when things were hard.
There was a lot of sadness in the air, as well as a need for answers and the hope that this pain wouldn’t happen again. The community began to mourn in the quiet of the night, wondering when safety had become so far away from them.