"They're releasing him. Judge Martinez issued an emergency order." The room erupted in cheers. Mama D dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "Thank you, Jesus," she whispered.
"I'll drive," Mr. Washington offered, already reaching for his keys. "We can pick him up right now." 30 minutes later, they pulled up to the juvenile detention center. Caleb stood outside with a social worker, still in his jumpsuit, but clutching his release papers. When he saw Mama D, he ran straight into her arms.
"My baby." She hugged him tight, rocking slightly. "My brave, brave boy." Jada wrapped her arms around them both, feeling Caleb's shoulders shake with silent tears. Around them, their small group of supporters formed a protective circle.
Across town, in her wood-paneled office, Mayor Whitmore was already in damage control mode. Her elegant desk was covered in phones, all lines blinking. A dozen of Beaumont Crossing's wealthiest citizens sat in leather chairs, their faces grim. "This changes nothing." She assured them, her voice sharp despite her perfect smile.
"We simply need to adjust our strategy." But her perfectly manicured nails drummed against the desk, the only sign that her confidence might be cracking. Saturday morning dawned crisp and clear. Jada moved through her Northern Shaolin forms in the community dojo's front room, bare feet silent on worn mats. Early sunlight streamed through the high windows, catching dust motes in golden beams.
Her muscles flowed from one position to the next. Snake creeps down, white crane spreads wings, cross hands. The familiar movements helped quiet her mind after yesterday's emotional roller coaster. Here, at least, everything made sense. Every action had a clear purpose and consequence.
Master Chen watched from his usual spot by the tea station, nodding occasionally. At 72, he rarely demonstrated forms anymore, but his eyes missed nothing. "Your breathing is tense." He commented. "Center yourself."
Jada adjusted her breath, letting it flow deeper into her belly. She was halfway through golden rooster stands on one leg when the dojo's front door burst open. Coach Mallory stumbled in, his usual confident stride replaced by jerky movements. His polo shirt was wrinkled and dark circles shadowed his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept.
"Jada," he called out, voice hoarse. "I need to talk to you. Now." She held her stance for three more breaths, then bowed to Master Chen before stepping off the mat. Up close, Coach Mallory looked even worse.
His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his disheveled hair. "What's wrong?" Jada asked, grabbing her water bottle. "You look terrible." He glanced around the empty dojo.