The Streets He Takes--Jeremy

“If you’re ever stopped by an officer, both hands up on the steering wheel. Don’t reach for your license and don’t speak your mind. Do as the officer tells you.” The routine speech from Bryson Miller’s parents echoed in his ears as he took his usual drive to St. Cristiano High School in upper Manhattan. His family lived in the part of town that was ridden with drug trafficking, car robberies, and often cases of police injustice from the officers who were seemingly posted at every corner like a new liquor store. He didn’t mind driving thirty minutes to his new school. He liked his high school where he had many friends and his pop’s old ‘96 Ford Escort that got him from point A to point B just fine. A newspaper stand caught Bryson’s eye at the red light since the headline read “ Star Quarterback Slandered for Refusing to Stand fo r National Anthem.” In this world nowadays, Bryson found it exhausting to see that social equality was so hard to attain with the nation conflicted over police brutality and people of color protesting for their rights to be recognized. Once a celebrity provides their own opinion on the matter, they are heavily slandered for doing so. It was as if both sides could not come to terms after such a long struggle. As Bryson crossed the intersection of Grand & Forager, he noticed his passenger seat headlight had flicked off through a nearby store window. “Man, I better check that out so that other cars can make out my car coming.” Stopped in a nearby parking lot, Bryson popped the hood of his car to fix his headlight. Unbeknownst to him, a nearby shop owner had notified the police that a “suspicious man” was loitering near his property. In a matter of five minutes, red and blue lights accompanied by shrieking sirens could be heard rushing up on Grand. “Oh Lord, those cops are flying up the street.” Bryson thought. Two police cars with three officers in assembly hopped out and approached him with what appeared to be their hands on their holsters. They stepped to him and growled at him to vacate the parking lot. Bryson explained that he was simply fixing his headlight and was not intending to stay long. “Well,” said one of the officers, “you won’t have to worry too much about that light,” as he used his baton to smash Bryson’s headlight all over the ground. Bryson was itching to lash out against the officers who assaulted his car, but swallowed his words and muttered a poignant “Yes, officer. I'm on my way out.” The cops lingered around until Bryson left the lot and was out of sight, coldly watching him as he left. Bryson, however, memorized the names on their badges and license plates to their patrol cars. He thanked God that he got away with his life by keeping a cool head and would make sure to right the wrongdoing he just endured.