Dr. Jesse Stafford, successful surgeon, husband
and father of three lives in an exclusive enclave in Atlanta. He
volunteers his time at a neighborhood free clinic in one of the roughest parts
of Atlanta where his wife, Cydney's family still lives. When an unarmed
thirteen-year-old boy is shot and killed by the police in this neighborhood,
Jesse finds himself in an ethical dilemma and at odds with some family members.
His involvement puts everything he’s achieved on the line.
EXCERPT
Jesse Stafford sat on a
hard plastic bench in a communal holding cell in the Atlanta City Detention
Center waiting for his brother to bail him out. He’d been arrested for
participating in what began as a peaceful demonstration in the neighborhood
where his wife, Cydney had grown up and where he volunteered at the medical
clinic.
For the past three hours, he and the other demonstrators
went through the painfully slow booking process and waited to make their phone
calls. He hated calling Vic at close to midnight, but he had no choice. Vic
would be able to put up the money for his bail, and unlike Nick and Charles, he
didn’t have sleeping toddlers who might be disturbed by the phone ringing late
at night. Thankfully, doctors were used to being interrupted in the middle of
the night. His older brother said he would be there as soon as he got dressed.
Jesse asked him to call Cydney and let her know what happened and that he was
okay. Of all the things to happen to him just days before the entire family got
together for the July Fourth holiday at his parents’ house. He shook his head
and uttered a pitiful laugh.
Tonight had been the largest demonstration since Darren
Givens, an unarmed thirteen-year-old boy, had been shot by police on Donald Lee Hollowell Parkway
back in June. Ironically, the street named for a famed civil rights
attorney who’d lived near the
area was better known by its former name, Bankhead Highway. The Bankhead
area continued to be one of the poorest areas of Atlanta. Even with some recent
improvements to the vicinity, it still left a lot to be desired.
For weeks after the shooting, the infamous street teemed with chanting, sign-carrying
activists. Television trucks, their satellite dishes reaching into the
chilly air like sunflowers, were a constant presence. Anger flared among
residents sending young people into the streets. Hollowell Parkway had burned
for two nights. Once the police and National Guard restored order,
demonstrators from all over the country representing the Black Lives Matter movement
came to show their support for the boy’s family. Eventually, their presence
vanished, and the media turned their attention to more recent events. Until
today, when the verdict was announced that the officers involved in the
shooting had been exonerated. Now the heavy armored police vehicles and
officers armed with high-powered rifles had returned to maintain the large
numbers of demonstrators in the streets.
Jesse still didn’t know what had sparked the clash between
some of the protesters and the police. Following hours of peaceful
demonstrations, shouting and shoving erupted among the crowd. The next thing he
knew, someone slapped handcuffs on his wrists and herded him into a police
transport vehicle along with two dozen others.
“Stafford!” a loud voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
“Jesse Stafford!”
He stood, excused himself through the crowded holding cell
and moved toward the voice. “Right here.”
“Your bail’s been made. Follow me.” The uniformed officer
hit a button on the wall and the door opened automatically. He didn’t take his
hand off the weapon at his hip and never looked directly at Jesse, as though he
were a non-entity. The door closed and Jesse followed him down the long hallway
to an outer area he hadn’t seen when they were brought in.
Vic was leaning against the wall with his hands shoved in
his pockets. His heavy brows rose when he saw Jesse walking toward him behind
the officer.
“You’re free to go,” the officer said and immediately moved
on to some other business.
“Hey,” Vic said, giving him a wary look.
“Hey. Thanks for doing this, man.”
“Disturbing the peace, huh?” A hint of a smile crossed Vic’s
face.
“That’s what it says?”
Vic handed him the papers he’d just signed. Jesse scanned
them quickly and blew out a rush of air. “I guess it could be worse.”
“Oh, Daddy’s going to have a field day with this. What were
you doing out there?”
“I’m a regular presence in the neighborhood. I have an
obligation to show my support. It’s important to let the residents of the area
know I don’t consider myself an outsider.”
“But you are an
outsider. You live in a million-dollar house ten miles from there.”
He ignored Vic’s comment. “Trey and that kid they killed are
the same age,” he said, speaking of Vic’s oldest son. His brother’s shoulders
slumped. “I’d treated him twice for asthma at the clinic; I can’t imagine
someone snuffing out his life. The pain his family must be going through is
unimaginable.”
Besides working in
the clinic, some of the parents knew him from the times he’d spoken to classes
during Career Day at a couple of the local middle schools. Each year he made it
a point to be a part of the event to show the children, who never saw doctors,
lawyers or other professionals living among them, they could accomplish
anything with good habits and hard work. They never ceased to ask
thought-provoking, often comical questions of him and the other speakers, and
the day always turned out to be fun for the kids and him.
Jesse followed Vic out of the building to the parking lot.
As soon as Vic pulled out onto the street, Jesse said, “Thanks again for doing
this for me. I’ll transfer the money into your account first thing in the
morning.”
“No sweat, man. Whenever you get the chance; I won’t go
broke before then.”
Buy
links:
Coming soon in paperback on CreateSpace.com
Contemporary women’s fiction/romance author Chicki Brown has
been featured twice in USAToday. She was the 2014 B.R.A.B. (Building
Relationships Around Books) Inspirational Fiction Author and also the 2011 SORMAG (Shades of Romance Magazine) Author of the
Year. Chicki was also a contributing author to the Gumbo for the Soul: Men of
Honor (Special Cancer Awareness Edition).
A transplanted New Jersey native who lives in Atlanta,
Georgia, Brown still misses the Jersey shore, the pizza and the hot dogs.
Nia Forrester, Beverly Jenkins, Iris Bolling, Lisa Kleypas,
and J.R. Ward are among her favorite authors.
Online
contacts:
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/qcsiMD
