A mother waits. Her son has not come home, and there have been no more calls.
A mayor reads the tweets of protesters while the evening news plays in the background. There’s a press conference tomorrow, but how can he possibly justify what’s happening? And what will they say if he backs down now?
An officer sits in his squad car outside the station. He should go home and recover from the day’s trauma. He should not go to sleep due to his minor concussion. He should say something. He should not rock the boat. He should protect his fellow officers. He should protect the innocent. He should have ignored his orders. He should do something. But what?
A young woman clutches the hands of strangers and tries not to cry. In a darkened room, they wait for the National Guard to move through the neighborhood. The elderly man who opened his home to protesters shuffles among them, handing out water bottles, tissues, encouragement.
The most powerful man in the world rages against what he cannot control.
A young man with cracked ribs and red eyes leans his head against the wall of his jail cell and tries to hope.