Ms. Ofrah arranged for me to do an interview with one of the national news programs todayโexactly a week before I testify before the grand jury next Monday.
Itโs around six oโclock when the limo that the news program sent arrives. My familyโs coming with me. I doubt my brothers will be interviewed, but Seven wants to support me. Sekani claims he does too, but really heโs hoping heโll get โdiscoveredโ somehow with all those cameras around.
My parents told him about everything. As much as he gets on my nerves, it was sweet when he gave me a handmade card that said โSorry.โ Until I opened it. There was drawing of me crying over Khalil, and I had devil horns. Sekani said he wanted it to be โreal.โ Little asshole.
We all head out to the limo. Some neighbors watch curiously from their porches and yards. Momma made all of us, including Daddy, dress up like weโre going to Christ Templeโnot quite Easter formal but not โdiverse churchโ casual. She says weโre not gonna have the news people thinking weโre โhood rats.โ
So as weโre walking to the car, sheโs all, โWhen we get there, donโt touch anything and only speak when somebody speaks to you. Itโs โyes, maโamโ and โyes, sir,โ or โno, maโamโ and โno, sir.โ Do I make myself clear?โ
โYes, maโam,โ the three of us say.
โAll right now, Starr,โ one of our neighbors calls out. I get that just about every day in the neighborhood now. Wordโs spreading around the Garden that Iโm the witness. โAll right nowโ is more than a greeting. Itโs a simple way people let me know they got my back.
The best part though? Itโs never โAll right now, Big Mavโs daughter who works in the store.โ Itโs always Starr.
We leave in the limo. I drum my fingers on my knee as I watch the neighborhood pass by. Iโve talked to detectives and the DA, and next
week Iโll talk to the grand jury. Iโve talked about that night so much I can repeat it back in my sleep. But the whole world will see this.
My phone vibrates in my blazer pocket. A couple of texts from Chris.
My mom wants to know what color your prom dress is. Something about the tailor needs to know ASAP.
Oh, shit. The Junior-Senior Prom is Saturday. I havenโt bought a dress. With all this Khalil stuff, Iโm not sure I wanna go. Momma said I need to get my mind off things. I said no. She gave me โthe look.โ
So Iโm going to the damn prom. This dictatorship sheโs on? Not cool.
I text Chris back.
Uh . . . light blue?
He responds:
You donโt have a dress yet?
Iโve got plenty of time, I write back.ย Just been busy.
Itโs true. Ms. Ofrah prepared me for this interview every day after school. Some days we finished early, and I helped out around Just Us for Justice. Answered phones, passed out flyers, anything they needed me to do. Sometimes I listened in on their staff meetings as they discussed police reform ideas and the importance of telling the community to protest not riot.
I asked Dr. Davis if Just Us could have a roundtable discussion at Williamson like they do at Garden High. He said he didnโt see the need.
Chris replies to my prom text:
Okay, if you say so Btw Vante says sup.
About to kill him on Madden
He needs to stop calling me Bieber tho
After all that โwhite boy trying to be blackโ shit DeVante said about Chris, lately heโs at Chrisโs house more than I am. Chris invited him over to play Madden, and all of a sudden theyโre โbros.โ According to DeVante, Chrisโs massive video game collection makes up for his whiteness.
I told DeVante heโs a video game thot. He told me to shut up. Weโre cool like that though.
We arrive at a fancy hotel downtown. A white guy in a hoodie waits under the awning leading up to the door. He has a clipboard under his arm and a Starbucks cup in his hand.
Still, he somehow manages to open the limo door and shake our hands when we get out. โJohn, the producer. Itโs a pleasure to meet you.โ He shakes my hand a second time. โAnd let me guess, youโre Starr.โ
โYes, sir.โ
โThank you so much for having the bravery to do this.โ
Thereโs that word again. Bravery. Brave peoplesโ legs donโt shake. Brave people donโt feel like puking. Brave people sure donโt have to remind themselves how to breathe if they think about that night too hard. If bravery is a medical condition, everybodyโs misdiagnosed me.
John leads us through all of these twists and turns, and Iโm so glad Iโm wearing flats. He canโt stop talking about how important the interview is and how much they wanna get the truth out there. Heโs not exactly adding to my โbravery.โ
He takes us to the hotel courtyard, where some camera operators and other show people are setting up. In the middle of the chaos, the interviewer, Diane Carey, is getting her makeup done.
Itโs weird seeing her in the flesh and not as a bunch of pixels on TV. When I was younger, every single time I spent the night at Nanaโs house she made me sleep in one of her long-ass nightgowns, say my bedtime prayers for at least five minutes, and watch Diane Careyโs news report so I could be โknowledgeable of the world.โ
โHi!โ Mrs. Careyโs face lights up when she sees us. She comes over, and I gotta give the makeup lady props โcause she follows her and keeps working like a pro. Mrs. Carey shakes our hands. โDiane. So nice to meet you all. And you must be Starr,โ she says to me. โDonโt be nervous. This will simply be a conversation between the two of us.โ
The whole time she talks, some guy snaps photos of us. Yeah, this will be a normal conversation.
โStarr, we were thinking we could get shots of you and Diane walking and talking around the courtyard,โ John says. โThen weโll go up to the suite and do the conversations between you and Diane; you, Diane, and Ms. Ofrah; and finally you and your parents. After that, weโll be all set.โ
One of the production people mics me up as John gives me a rundown of this walk and talk thing. โItโs only a transitional shot,โ he says. โSimple stuff.โ
Simple my ass. The first time, I practically power-walk. The second time, I walk like Iโm in a funeral processional and canโt answer Mrs. Careyโs questions. I never realized walking and talking required so much coordination.
Once we get that right, we take an elevator to the top floor. John leads us to a huge suiteโseriously, it looks like a penthouseโ overlooking downtown. About a dozen people are setting up cameras and
lighting. Ms. Ofrahโs there in one of her Khalil shirts and a skirt. John says theyโre ready for me.
I sit in the loveseat across from Mrs. Carey. Iโve never been able to cross my legs, for whatever reason, so thatโs out the question. They check my mic, and Mrs. Carey tells me to relax. Soon, the cameras are rolling.
โMillions of people around the world have heard the name Khalil Harris,โ she says, โand theyโve developed their own ideas of who he was. Who was he to you?โ
More than he may have ever realized.ย โOne of my best friends,โ I say. โWe knew each other since we were babies. If he were here, heโd point out that he was five months, two weeks, and three days older than me.โ We both chuckle at that. โBut thatโs who Khalil isโwas.โ
Damn. It hurts to correct myself.
โHe was a jokester. Even when things were hard, heโd somehow find some light in it. And he . . .โ My voice cracks.
I know itโs corny, but I think heโs here. His nosy ass would show up to make sure I say the right things. Probably calling me his number one fan or some annoying title that only Khalil can think of.
I miss that boy.
โHe had a big heart,โ I say. โI know that some people call him a thug, but if you knew him, youโd know that wasnโt the case at all. Iโm not saying he was an angel or anything, but he wasnโt a bad person. He was a
. . .โ I shrug. โHe was a kid.โ She nods. โHe was a kid.โ โHe was a kid.โ
โWhat do you think about people who focus on the not-so-good aspect of him?โ she asks. โThe fact that he may have sold drugs?โ
Ms. Ofrah once said that this is how I fight, with my voice. So I fight.
โI hate it,โ I say. โIf people knew why he sold drugs, they wouldnโt talk about him that way.โ
Mrs. Carey sits up a little. โWhy did he sell them?โ
I glance at Ms. Ofrah, and she shakes her head. During all our prep meetings, she advised me not to go into details about Khalil selling drugs. She said the public doesnโt have to know about that.
But then I look at the camera, suddenly aware that millions of people will watch this in a few days. King may be one of them. Although his threat is loud in my head, itโs not nearly as loud as what Kenya said that day in the store.
Khalil would defend me. I should defend him. So I gear up to throw a punch.
โKhalilโs mom is a drug addict,โ I tell Mrs. Carey. โAnybody who knew him knew how much that bothered him and how much he hated drugs. He only sold them to help her out of a situation with the biggest drug dealer and gang leader in the neighborhood.โ
Ms. Ofrah noticeably sighs. My parents have wide eyes.
Itโs dry snitching, but itโs snitching. Anybody who knows anything about Garden Heights will know exactly who Iโm talking about. Hell, if they watch Mr. Lewisโs interview they can figure it out.
But hey, since King wants to go around the neighborhood lying and saying Khalil repped his set, I can let the world know Khalil was forced to sell drugs for him. โHis momโs life was in danger,โ I say. โThatโs the only reason heโd ever do something like that. And he wasnโt a gang memberโโ
โHe wasnโt?โ
โNo, maโam. He never wanted to fall into that type of life. But I guessโโ I think about DeVante for some reason. โI donโt understand how everyone can make it seem like itโs okay he got killed if he was a drug dealer and a gangbanger.โ
A hook straight to the jaw. โThe media?โ she asks.
โYes, maโam. It seems like they always talk about what he may have said, what he may have done, what he may not have done. I didnโt know a dead person could be charged in his own murder, you know?โ
The moment I say it, I know itโs my jab to the mouth.
Mrs. Carey asks for my account of that night. I canโt go into a lot of detailsโMs. Ofrah told me not toโbut I tell her we did everything One- Fifteen asked and never once cussed at him like his father claims. I tell her how afraid I was, how Khalil was so concerned about me that he opened the door and asked if I was okay.
โSo he didnโt make a threat on Officer Cruiseโs life?โ she questions. โNo, maโam. His exact words were, โStarr, are you okay?โ That was
the last thing he said, andโโ
Iโm ugly crying, describing the moment when the shots rang out and Khalil looked at me for the last time; how I held him in the street and saw his eyes gloss over. I tell her One-Fifteen pointed his gun at me.
โHe pointed his gun at you?โ she asks.
โYes, maโam. He kept it on me until the other officers arrived.โ
Behind the cameras, Momma puts her hand over her mouth. Fury sparks in Daddyโs eyes. Ms. Ofrah looks stunned.
Itโs another jab.
See, I only told Uncle Carlos that part.
Mrs. Carey gives me Kleenex and a moment to get myself together. โHas this situation made you fearful of cops?โ she eventually asks.
โI donโt know,โ I say truthfully. โMy uncleโs a cop. I know not all cops are bad. And they risk their lives, you know? Iโm always scared for my uncle. But Iโm tired of them assuming. Especially when it comes to black people.โ
โYou wish that more cops wouldnโt make assumptions about black people?โ she clarifies.
โRight. This all happened becauseย heโโI canโt say his name
โโassumed that we were up to no good. Because weโre black and because of where we live. We were just two kids, minding our business, you know? His assumption killed Khalil. It couldโve killed me.โ
A kick straight to the ribs.
โIf Officer Cruise were sitting here,โ Mrs. Carey says, โwhat would you say to him?โ
I blink several times. My mouth waters, but I swallow. No way Iโm gonna let myself cry or throw up from thinking about that man.
If he were sitting here, I donโt have enough Black Jesus in me to tell him I forgive him. Instead Iโd probably punch him. Straight up.
But Ms. Ofrah says this interview is the way I fight. When you fight, you put yourself out there, not caring who you hurt or if youโll get hurt.
So I throw one more blow, right at One-Fifteen. โIโd ask him if he wished he shot me too.โ