“I know.”
Then:
“Naomi wants to call.”
Their daughter was twenty-one.
Senior at Howard.
Political science.
Very little patience.
Marcus rubbed forehead.
“Tonight?”
“Good luck stopping her.”
Call waiting appeared.
NAOMI.
Marcus laughed.
“She’s already calling.”
“Call me after.”
“I will.”
He switched.
“Dad!”
“I’m alive.”
“What the hell?”
“Language.”
“You got handcuffed by a man who called your Navy uniform a Halloween costume and you’re correcting my language?”
“Yes.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“So your mother says.”
Naomi’s voice changed.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Mostly.”
She went quiet.
Then:
“I watched the whole video.”
Marcus knew which one.
Grace Kim had posted her full eight-minute recording after consulting airport investigators.
It showed everything.
Vance approaching.
Marcus offering ID.
Vance refusing.
The bag.
The cuffs.
The walk.
The radios.
Ruiz.
Brooks.
Naomi whispered:
“You looked so calm.”
“I was angry.”
“You didn’t look angry.”
“That was intentional.”
“I hate that.”
Marcus frowned.
“What?”
“That you had to make sure you looked safe.”
He stared at the dark window.
“Naomi—”
“No.”
“I know you’ll say professionalism.”
“Training.”
“De-escalation.”
“All that.”
“But you had to think about how your face looked while some man called your career a costume.”
Marcus did not answer.
She continued:
“If you yelled, people would say you were aggressive.”
“If you pulled away, resisting.”
“If you told him who was waiting, entitled.”
“So you just stood there.”
“Dad, that makes me furious.”
Marcus let her be furious.
That was one thing parenthood had taught him.
Do not rush to solve emotion because it makes you uncomfortable.
Eventually he said:
“I had choices.”
“Not good ones.”
“No.”
“But choices.”
“Would you have done anything different?”
He thought.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I would have asked Ruiz sooner to secure my bag.”
Naomi almost laughed.
“Dad.”
“I’m serious.”
“You are impossible.”
A family trait apparently.
Then she asked: