Ch. 19- Justice.

20 1 0
                                    

Everybody knew who Max was. He was the local tough guy who strutted around with his posse, threatening anyone who looked crazy at him.

She snuck up to his house. As she was about to pick the lock, the door flew open. The door wasn't even closed all the way, nor was it locked.

"Idiot," she mumbled. Moving through the house, she searched around. The house wasn't the cleanest, that was for sure. He lived just like she thought he would. Like a lowlife.

A loud barking noise startled her as a big dog barked and bared its teeth at her. Ophelia shushed it, trying to make it be quiet.

She raided the fridge, grabbed a piece of lunch meat and throwing it. Typically, the dog followed the food like the greedy being it was.

Bursting his bedroom door down, she entered and searched for anything that would prove Darryl was framed. He had a variety of weird things in his room, but she ignored it. She had no time to be distracted or surprised.

Something stuck out of a small trash bin next to his bed. She took it, looking it over. It was the same photos she saw at the jail, except you could clearly see the rim of a black hat poking out. These were thrown away and replaced with those other pictures.

Shoving them in her pocket, Ophelia exited the house through the back door. The grass was long and unkempt, except for a blank patch of dirt. That raised her suspicion. She used her hands to dig. Ophelia pulled out an article of clothing. It was burnt and falling apart.

The woman could've laughed. They couldn't even get rid of a simple hoodie. "Ay! How the hell did you get in my house?!" She froze. Max and his buddies were sitting there, staring at her with bewilderment and anger.

She ran as they began to chase after her. She threw a lawn chair at them, which hit one of them. "Max, are you ok?!" One of his minions said.

"DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME! WORRY ABOUT HER!" Ophelia kept going, jumping over the fence. She landed on her feet, almost falling over. Gymnastics had really paid off. She ran and ran as if she were a track star.

Jumping on a bike she borrowed from Ariel, Ophelia dashed from the home. Her legs were aching from the constant and fast movement, but all her mind could think about was Darryl.

= = = =

The woman arrived at the police station. "How may I help you, ma'am?" She huffed, out of breath.

"I have proof that Darryl Collins is innocent and was set up." His brow raised. He held his hand out. "Alright. May I see it?" She handed the discarded photos and burnt hoodie to him.

"Three men attempted to frame him for a crime they committed. Those photos you guys already have? Those aren't the original ones. Those were the backups." She pointed at the point in one of the images. "This one here, the culprit is clearly wearing a hat. Darryl doesn't wear a hat, but I know who does." Ophelia poked the hoodie. "As for this, they tried to burn it and then bury it in the ground. This was Darryl's hoodie, and inside are his gloves. He stole them from Darryl."

The man nodded. "Alright. We'll have these examined and checked for fingerprints."

"Look for Max Jones. Search his house if you have to." With that, she turned to leave.

= = = =

Ophelia woke up and immediately got dressed. She knocked on Katherine's door. The woman opened it. "Ophelia! How good it is to see you!" She hugged her.

"It's great to see you, too, Kate," she said, reciprocating. The older woman waved her in as she obliged, following her to the living room. "Have you heard from Darryl?" She asked. Katherine gave her a yes. "I did. He's in jail." Ophelia was confused. She seemed so calm. So nonchalant about the fact that her son was behind bars.

ᴍʏ ʙᴜꜱ ʙᴜᴅᴅʏ. [ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴊᴀᴄᴋꜱᴏɴ ꜰꜰ]Where stories live. Discover now