Policed

by Alana Terry

  She knew her dad. Knew he was probably getting ready to lecture her on the American justice system, how if you were patient enough, the truth would rise its way to the top like the most soluble substances on a paper chromatogram. After what she had seen, after talking to Dominic who had first-hand experience with the police force, she wouldn’t believe a single word of it.

  How could she make her dad understand? How could she tell him how important this was to her? She felt like a petulant toddler, ready to stomp her foot and throw a fit until she got her way. But what else could she do to save Reuben? How else could she help him? Dominic had mentioned prayer, but what good was that when the entire justice system was willing to sacrifice an innocent student to protect the reputation of a corrupt cop? Back in Yanji, when the Chinese police came into her parents’ home to question them about their business, their visa paperwork, or any hint of missionary activities, Kennedy had hidden upstairs in her room wishing to be back home in the States, imagining life in a country where the police were there to protect you, not harass you. Had she really been that naïve? Had she really been that foolish?

  She heard her dad let out his breath. “Give me a few minutes, sugar. I’ll call Jefferson and see if there’s anything he can do.”

  Kennedy bit her lip, wondering if she should say what she was thinking. Would it make things worse, or would it be better for her dad to know the complete truth at the beginning? She took a choppy breath. “I don’t think his family has a lot of extra money for lawyers and things.”

  Another sigh. Heavier this time and slightly more dejected. “He won’t have to worry about that, princess. Just hold on, and I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

  The small stream of relief that washed over Kennedy reminded her of a bright ray of sunshine in the middle of winter — enough to give you hope without warming you up at all. Still, it was a start. “Thanks, Daddy.”

  “You’re welcome.” If they had been face-to-face, he would probably make some sort of joke about how Kennedy was responsible for his growing bald spot or his rapidly diminishing bank account. But there were no jokes this time, just the small clicking sound of her dad hanging up his office phone. Kennedy stared at her screen after the call ended. Her dad would try to help. There was nothing to do now but wait.

  For the next several minutes, all Kennedy could think about was a video series for prospective medical students her dad had made her watch when she decided to apply to Harvard’s pre-med program. In one of the lectures, a doctor who survived cancer talked about medical testing from the patient’s perspective, how hard it is to wait for results that could spell life or death for yourself or your family member. His words hadn’t impacted Kennedy much at the time — she had been more interested in the immunologist’s speech on AIDS and other disorders that impacted the immune system — but it was all she could think about now while she waited for her dad to get hold of Jefferson. She tried not to think of how hard it would be to contact a lawyer at 8:30 on a Friday night. What if he didn’t return her dad’s call until Monday? What would that mean for Reuben? She didn’t know anything about jails or prisons. She didn’t know if they had visiting hours or any way for the inmates to interact with the public. Part of her worried that if she went to the jail to check on Reuben, someone there would recognize her from the infamous piggyback attack video and book her for the night as well.

  Well, if that’s what it’d take to get the attention of her dad’s lawyer friend ...

  She should probably be doing her own research, too. Wasn’t that what the internet was for? But she knew if she turned on her computer, she’d never get past all the news articles of Reuben’s arrest. It was too heinous to have a hundred different reminders bombard her from a hundred different websites. She remembered the way Othello had explained it. If the police wanted to keep their own reputation untarnished, it made sense they’d try to ruin Reuben’s. What would they say about him? Did he have his cell phone with him? Could she text him to see how he was doing?

  All we can do is pray. Dominic’s words rang through her mind like the taunts of a playground bully. All we can do is pray. Wasn’t that the spiritual equivalent of a doctor telling her dying patient there was nothing left to do but discuss palliative care and make hospice arrangements?

  All we can do is pray. Was that the Christian way of saying there was no hope whatsoever?

  She bowed her head over Willow’s half empty mug. Even the sight of the tea leaves reminded her of Bow Legs, how he had made such a big deal of that stupid Ziploc bag in the glove compartment. She stared at her phone. If it had just taken the video like she’d told it to, none of this would be happening. Bow Legs would be the one behind bars, and she and Reuben would be at the library studying calculus or at the student union finishing up their lab report.

  Why had God allowed her phone to fail her? Had he stopped paying attention for those few seconds? Was he too busy helping believers on the other side of the world? But it didn’t work like that, did it? Kennedy knew there were people suffering more than she was, but still, did that mean God thought her problems weren’t significant enough to waste his energy on? Had he simply forgotten to intervene?

  She thought about Carl and Sandy, about all the injustices they suffered in the past. How did they remain so loving and hopeful? What was the secret and the source of their joy? What did Kennedy have to do to discover that same sense of peace she always felt with them?

  Her heart leapt like an electron jumping up an energy level when her phone rang. Her dad. Was it a bad sign that he was calling back so soon? He couldn’t have gotten a hold of the lawyer, explained everything to him, and come up with a plan to save Reuben in five minutes, could he?

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “I just got off the phone with Jefferson.” No greeting, no Hi, princess. What did that mean? Was her dad calling with bad news? Had the lawyer already looked into the case and agreed that the only thing left to do was pray?

  Thankfully, her dad didn’t waste words. “He said the same thing as yesterday. Without more evidence or some key witness coming forward, there’s not much to do. I know it’s too late for it now, but if you ever find yourself in that sort of situation again, it’d be a good idea to turn on your phone’s video camera and ...”

  Kennedy fought the urge to throw her cell across the room. “I did take a video.” She wasn’t trying to yell, but she couldn’t help it. “I started recording at the very beginning when he handcuffed Reuben. It’s the stupid phone. There wasn’t enough memory ...”

  She choked back tears of frustration. Why had she ever left Yanji? Why had she ever gone to Harvard? She could have gotten her college degree online without ever having to leave her parents’. What had she been thinking?

  “Calm down, sweetie.” It was just like her dad to say something like that. He didn’t even bother telling her to pray. He knew how hopeless the situation was. So that was it. Reuben would spend a few weeks or months in jail, go to trial, and get deported back to Kenya in disgrace. Never complete his studies. Never tell Kennedy the secret he’d planned on sharing Thursday night. In a way, this was all her fault. Why had she suggested they go see Aida? Why couldn’t they have just spent the evening in the library like normal?

  “I’m sorry about the phone, princess. I’ll do some research. Maybe there’s someone in your area who can retrieve the memory for you. You say that you got the entire confrontation recorded?”

  “Everything. It was in my pocket, so you can’t see it all, but you can hear what was going on.”

  “And you think the recording would be enough to prove Reuben’s innocent?” There was a hint of doubt in her father’s voice.

  “Of course he’s innocent. I already explained to you, that officer ...”

  “I remember what you told me last night,” her dad interrupted. “I’m just saying that sometimes people remember certain events in different ways ...”

  Kennedy had heard enough. “I told you already, he didn
’t do anything wrong. Neither of us did.” She was starting to understand why Dominic had warned her to drop the entire case in the first place. If the media could skew events until her own dad doubted her, how could she expect the general public to take her side?

  “All right,” he conceded. “If you think the video will help, I’ll see if there’s somewhere you can take your phone to try to get the memory retrieved. It’s probably a long shot, but without more evidence, Jefferson says there’s not much of a case.”

  “So he’s just going to let Reuben get deported?” She couldn’t believe this was happening. She couldn’t believe the country that boasted such liberty and freedom could arrest someone as kind and considerate as Reuben to keep a corrupt officer out of trouble.

  “I didn’t say that.” She sensed the tension in her dad’s voice and remembered why she had been so eager as a high-school student to leave home. “All I said was he didn’t think there was much of a case. I hired him to look into it for us anyway, and if you have evidence on your phone that might make a difference, we need to pursue it.”

  Kennedy was ashamed of her outburst. She injected what she hoped was enough humility into her voice and said, “Thanks, Daddy.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’m no Atticus Finch.”

  Kennedy smiled at her dad’s reference to one of her favorite novels. “I’m really glad you’re at least trying.”

  “Well, I know a certain young lady who can be pretty persuasive when she wants to be. And I figure it must be a special boy to have caught her heart like that.”

  Kennedy felt the warmth radiating up to her cheeks. “It’s not like that, you know.”

  “Well, whatever it is, I’m glad I’m able to help. Let me jump online and see what I can find about your phone. I’ll call or text you when I have more information.”

  Kennedy was used to sudden waves of homesickness crashing over her without warning. She choked down a large sip of tea and thanked her dad one more time.

  “Yeah well, I just hope this Reuben fellow understands how lucky he is that you care so much about him.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Kennedy’s head was throbbing by the time her dad sent her a link with information on retrieving lost photos. The procedure required a certain app, so while she waited for it to download, she got herself ready for bed. It wasn’t even nine yet, but her mind was heavy with exhaustion. Sandy’s fatty pork chop sat in her gut like a chunk of cement. It was the most meat she’d eaten since Christmas Eve at the Lindgrens’. Things had felt so normal back then. Reuben came with her, and they had spent the evening laughing over every single mistake they’d made in the chemistry lab during their first semester of school.

  Life had been so simple. Tests and homework and lab write-ups. Kennedy could handle that. What she couldn’t handle was the horrid uncertainty, the fear of Reuben’s fate, the sense that God must have abandoned her or else he wouldn’t have thrown her into the midst of such a convoluted mess.

  Was God angry about her feelings toward Reuben? She’d heard Carl say from the pulpit that the Lord was a jealous God. Did that mean he was mad not to be in the center of Kennedy’s attention, so he was going to punish the person she cared about most? Was God really that possessive? Would he really act so petty?

  After the app downloaded, she followed the directions to retrieve her lost photos. She wasn’t sure what good it would do. The video she needed wasn’t lost. It hadn’t recorded at all. Still, there was always the small shred of hope. Maybe God was looking out for her after all. Maybe this would be his way to prove it.

  As soon as the program finished loading, Kennedy scrolled through the recovered files. Most of them were pictures of lab results she hadn’t needed in her write-ups. There were also two photos she and Reuben had taken at the Nutcracker ballet when they went last Christmas. The images were blurry, which was probably why she’d deleted them, but she stared for several minutes at the smiles on her and Reuben’s faces. Had she ever felt that happy before she met him?

  She told the app to save the photos back into her regular gallery. She wasn’t ready to get rid of them yet. They might be the last pictures she’d ever have with him. She wished she could have talked to her dad’s attorney friend. She needed to know what would happen to Reuben. Would he be deported if they found him guilty, or would they keep him in prison here? She wasn’t sure which option was worse. What would his family think? What would his parents say?

  As expected, the recovered photos didn’t include anything from her traffic stop. She should have known it was foolish to hope. Should have known God wouldn’t come through for her. What did he care? He was probably too concerned with the world’s missionaries and pastors to fret much over a nineteen-year-old college freshman and her best friend.

  She blinked her dry eyes. There had been a time when her faith had come so easily. Mom and Dad loved Jesus, so she did too. Mom and Dad said he died on a cross and came back to life, so who was she to argue? She didn’t doubt any of it even now, but what did it matter whether or not Jesus was alive if he just let injustice run rampant? Was the hope of a distant future spent in the heavenly clouds supposed to compensate for a lifetime of sorrow here on earth?

  And what about those people who were even more oppressed, the child laborers and sex slaves suffering throughout the globe? Did God see them? Did he care? And if he did care, why wouldn’t he do something to free them?

  It didn’t make sense, and Kennedy was too tired to try to figure it out. This line of reasoning would just make her more depressed anyway. She may as well go to bed. Maybe things would look brighter in the morning.

  She doubted it.

  She let out a small groan as she laid her head down on her pillow. She hadn’t realized how tight her muscles were. Willow had been trying to talk her into joining some co-ed yoga group all semester. Said it’d be great for Kennedy’s anxiety, but she was too busy. Besides, why would she want to wear spandex and sweat on a germ-infested mat alongside two dozen other strangers?

  She glanced at her phone one more time as if the missing recording might magically appear on the photo retrieval app. No such luck.

  Of course.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand, startling her. She didn’t recognize the number, but whoever it was could wait. She didn’t want to talk to anybody, not unless it was ...

  Her hand shook when she answered the call. “Hello?”

  “Kennedy? Is that you?”

  In an instant, her pituitary gland flooded her entire brain with endorphins. Relief collided with nervous excitement. Joy coursed through every single vein in her body. “Reuben?”

  “It’s me.”

  “Where are you? Are you ok? Did you get hurt?” She couldn’t decide which question she wanted answered first.

  “I’m ok.” She heard the strain in his voice, recognized his attempt to stay positive. “They said I could make a phone call, and I didn’t ... I wasn’t ... Well, I called you.”

  “I’m so glad. I’ve been worrying all night about you. What are they saying? What’s going to happen now?”

  “I have some court appearance on Monday. That’s about all I know so far.”

  She tried to imagine what her dad would say in a similar situation. What advice would he give? What would he tell Reuben to do? “You don’t have to answer any questions, you know. You should demand to have a lawyer present if they need to talk to you.” Wait, was that right? Or was it different for international students? Did he have the same rights as everyone else, or would it work some other way?

  “It’s ok. I’ve already talked with someone from the embassy. It looks like if I plead guilty, I’ll most likely just get deported. They probably won’t give me an actual jail sentence.”

  He was talking like a crazy man. “You can’t do that. You were acting in self-defense. We both were. You have to let the guy know that ...”

  “I already made up my mind. I’m showing up in court Monday, I’m pleading guilty, and I’m hop
ing they’ll just send me home instead of making me serve time here.”

  He wasn’t thinking clearly. He was scared. Confused. Who wouldn’t be at a time like this? “Listen, my dad’s already hired a guy for you. A really good lawyer he knows. He thinks you have a good chance.” She hoped he wouldn’t hear the doubt in her own voice.

  “That’s nice of you to say, but I don’t want you worrying about me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “You can’t just give up. What about your studies? What about all you’ve worked so hard for?”

  Betrayal. That’s what it felt like. Betrayal. Did Reuben seriously believe he’d be better off taking the blame for Bow Legs’ crimes? He had worked too hard his first year at Harvard. He and Kennedy both had worked too hard. What about those countless hours studying together? What about their friendship?

  She plugged in her phone, determined to keep it from losing charge. “Listen, I’m going to try to figure out how three-way calling works. I want you to talk to my dad. He knows a lot about these things. He’ll tell you himself ...”

  “It’s not that simple.” Reuben’s voice was so quiet, Kennedy could hardly make out the words. She bit her lip and forced herself to listen. When inmates get to make one phone call, what does that mean? One phone call a week? A year? Total? Would this be the last time they’d ever talk to each other?

  “Listen, the thing I was going to tell you last night, I ...”

  No, it couldn’t happen like this. He was acting as if he’d never see her again. He was scared. She couldn’t let him say something they would both regret later.