Claymore Street

Claymore Street
Chapter 1
"FREEZE, GET ON THE FUCKIN GROUND!"
Fire burned in his eyes, each droplet of spit hit Trell like venom.
"I live here," Trell cried, "I fuckin live here."
"GET ON THE GROUND, IM NOT TELLING YOU AGAIN!"
The neighborhood had begun to convene in front of Trell's house. All that had been going on in the news involving unarmed men and women being shot down, in the streets, and still it was a surprise to see such a show a force before your own eyes.  The flash of camera phones and discontent of the neighborhood gave Trell a sense of security, but the screams of anger and terror being bellowed from the crowd only seemed to infuriate the officer.
"Leave him alone"
"You fucking coward"
"FUCK 12"
"What's your name, what's your badge number bitch ass nigga"
"I told yo dumb ass I live here," Trell repeated smugly, "Look, it's here on my ID," he said while reaching for his wallet.

Chapter 2
Trell wondered if everyone felt this way when facing death. The world stopped, he could no longer hear the screams of the crowd or the commands from the officer. All he could focus on was the flash. The last beam of light he would experience. It was funny, in the way in which someone finds irony funny, that everybody associates darkness with the end, but for Trell it was the light, light so motivated by hate that it consumed him. He found himself still in the act of reaching for his wallet, the action that set this series of events in place. Really, this event was set into action two weeks before when Trell's grandmother took a job at the hospital, moving them to the north side burbs. Trell had joked that they had did sum 'Get Out' shit to the niggas and that is why there weren't any. Being new to cracker central, which is what Trell's grandmother affectionately called the neighborhood, they received a lot of looks and whispers as to why they were there and not on the 'ghetto' side of town. Trell had walked the same route to and from school the last two weeks, but Trell noticed a cop sitting a couple blocks from his house on this particular day. As to look like he belonged, Trell began to shuffle through his bag for his house key. While walking past the officer Trell couldn't help but make eye contact, as if trying to say " aye, we good?" But this only seemed to seal his already unavoidable fate. On this day, of all days, Trell had forgotten his key, forcing him to jump his fence and use the back door.
"Man, where tf is this key," Trell questioned himself.
"Fuck me bro."
As he walked up his driveway towards the gate he noticed the officer driving in his direction. Trell shrugged off his heavy bag and tossed it over the fence, he began to climb, at which point he heard a voice over his shoulder
"You lookin for sumthin boy?"
"What you just ask me nig——," trell stopped himself, "Dude I'm just tryna get in my house"
The officer spat, "if you live here why you jumping the fence?"
Trell rolled his eyes. He hadn't yet looked at the officer but the acid in his voice told Trell everything he needed to know, that he was guilty of being a nigga in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Trell jumped off the fence,
"Look bro this is my house, I forgot my key so I'm jumping the fence."
Believing his explanation was acceptable, Trell turned back towards the fence.
"With his hand reaching toward his gun the officer explained that there had been a serious of robberies in the neighborhood in which Trell fit the description. Realizing what was going on Trell yelled,
"What?black in a white neighborhood?"
"Man fuck out of here."
Trell hadn't noticed before but the officer was now gripping his weapon. The vein on his forehead showing profusely on his now red face.
"Look Nigger I don't have to explain shit to you. Put your hands up and get on the fuckin ground," said the officer, the gun now firmly pointed in Trell's direction.
 
Chapter 3
"Hello, Ms.Evans, this is Detective Strickland do you have a minute to speak?"
Ms evans shakily replied, " yes, can I ask what this is about?"
"Your grandson, Trell Evans?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry but Trell was shot and killed by police as he was attempting to break into a private residence."
"I don't understa——, Trell wouldn't break into anybody's house" she said in disbelief.
"Ma'am can you come down to the station please?"
Her whispy grey hair seemed to mimic the emotions on her face. She no longer had the bounce in her step, her hands shook under the anticipation of what she had just heard. She had never felt so powerless, a strong independent black woman, helpless, confused, and scared.
She walked into the station, she hadn't thought about it before, but she had never been in this building. The shiny linoleum reflected her despair, she looked so old, so small.
" Hi, I'm Tasha Evans, I received a call from a Detective Strickland."
"Go ahead and take a seat he will be right with you" , the officer snorted without looking up from his computer.
"I see why they call you pigs" , Ms.Evans said to herself as she sat.
"Ms.Evans?"
She peeked over her glasses to see a man standing over her. His stomach seemed to swallow up his waistline, his hair slicked back like a gangster in an old mob movie.
Ms. Evans looked for the mans name badge.
"Yes, Detective Strickland, I received a call  that my grandson had been in a shooting?" she said unknowingly using her best 'White' voice.
"Why don't you follow me."
Ms. Evans stood and followed the man to his office.
"Take a seat." Detective Strickland said while gesturing toward a chair at the front of his desk.
"Ms.Evans, your grandson—"
"His name is Trell"
"Yes, Trell was caught attempting to break into a home, officers attempted to apprehend Trell, at which point he resisted— forcing officers to open fire."
All Ms.Evans could think about was how easy it seemed for the detective to deliver such devastating news.
After what seemed like an eternity of silence Ms.Evans finally spoke
"Trell? My Trell?" "I don't understand, Trell wouldn't, he's, he's" ,she struggled to compose herself.
"He's a good kid, he's an A student, trell wouldn't do something like that."
"I'm sorry ma'am."
Once again she was shaken by the detectives calmness.
"What is being done about the officers who shot my baby?"
"There will be an formal investigation into the matter, but due to Trell's inability to comply, he was a danger to both the community and our responding officer."
"A danger? Was he armed?"
"I'm afraid until the investigation is complete I am not at liberty to divulge that information."
She felt her anger start to bubble, "not at liberty, that is my grandson you killed, you need to tell me what happens to my baby."
"Again, I'm sorry ma'am"

Chapter 4
"SAM!"
"SAMMM!"
"Saaa—."
James jumped out his sleep in a cold sweat. Light gleaming into his eyes from outside. He had been having the same dream for months. He couldn't shake it, months of therapy had only forced him to relieve the worst part of his life over and over. She was gone and there was nothing he could do. James caught a glance of the picture he kept on his nightstand, he and Sam's wedding day, he couldn't remember a time he had been that happy.
He swung his feet out the bed and scratched his head, "Morning Sammy."
His ride to work the same as every other day, in all actuality nothing had been the same since Sam died.
"Hey, James how you doing today?"
"Doing fine" , James said as he walked past another officer on the way to his squad car.
"It's been a hall of a night, you be safe out there today" , the same officer said before James turned the corner.
James had been a cop for seven years, he remembered how excited he was to announce his acceptance to the academy.
Sam seemed more excited at the prospect of James becoming a cop than even himself.
He had patrolled the same neighborhood for years, Bemfield Hills, a quiet neighborhood in which nothing of significance ever happed. At the beginning of his career, he hated the boredom, but after Sam's death he appreciated the lack of excitement. He would usually find a place to park and wait for an unsuspecting driver to commit some type of violation. Three hours into his shift, another boring day, he hadn't even given a speeding ticket.
He looked up and saw a kid walking towards him, he hadn't seen the kid before, which was weird to him, he knew most everyone who lived in the area. The boy walked past his squad car and looked at him, James thought this to be very suspicious, he also noticed the shuffling through his bag, this gave James an uneasy feeling in his stomach, his eyes moving to his rear view mirror as the boy walked past. He saw the boy turn into a driveway a few blocks up and disappear. James turned around and drove up the street towards where the boy had disappeared, he noticed the boy throw his bag over the fence and start to climb. James jumped out of the car, believing he was the whiteness of a crime.
"You lookin for sumthin boy?"
The boy jumped off the fence and began walking towards him at which point James pulled his weapon. A crowd starting to build behind him, this seemed to make the boy cocky, the boy seemed adamant on disobeying his orders. The boy smirked at him and started to reach for something in his pocket, James didn't hesitate he pulled the trigger, as the boy fell to the ground something dropped from his pocket. James looked, not a weapon, a wallet, inside the boy's ID, 'Trell Evans', '2124 Claymore Street'. His eyes jumped from the boys ID to the address on the house. He knew at that moment the young boy had been innocent. Yet, James' sense of self preservation kicked in, he had to find a way to cover up what he had done. James looked back on this day after, after some strange things begun to happen to him, and wondered why had he turned of his body camera, why didn't he call in the perceived suspicious activity.

Chapter 5
" There has been a lot of unrest in the city after the shooting of Trell Evans, police say he was shot attempting to break into a private residence. The officer involved has refused to speak to with the media, according to his lawyers. BHPD has also not released the body cam footage in connection to the shooting of Mr.Evans."
Ms.Evans couldn't believe what she was hearing. Since Trell had been shot, the news had been reporting on his death, and saying over and over again that Trell was a bad kid, a thief, as if to justify the killing of a black child, her child.
She clicked off the television and continued getting ready, it was the first day of the trial. As she put on her Sunday best, all she could think about was how she would have to face the man threat had killed not only her grandson but her best friend. She had raised Trell since he was two, after his mother passed away from breast cancer. She had been the only mother he knew, and Ms.Evans had lost another child.
She wondered if the officer had any children, she wondered what type of person he was, if he was kind, or hateful, more so, why he had killed her child.
She walked up the steps of the courthouse, yet another building she had never been into, she dropped her keys in a bucket as she walked in and set her purse on a table as she walked through metal detectors. Once through she picked up her keys and purse and shuffled down to the courtroom. They told her courtroom number seven. She became more and more nervous as she walked past each room her hills clicking the tile.
1
*click click click*
2
*click click click
3
*click click click*