Officer Martinez, the only one who'd shown her any kindness during processing. She held a folded piece of paper. "Message for you," Martinez said quietly, passing the note through the food slot. "Your lawyer's coming at 3:00." Jada's fingers trembled slightly as she unfolded the paper.
Mrs. Price's elegant handwriting filled the small square. "Hold fast. Help is coming. Remember Fannie Lou Hamer? We've been in darker cells than this."
Fresh tears pricked at Jada's eyes, but these were different from the ones she'd been fighting back all night. Mrs. Price hadn't abandoned her. She wasn't alone. The next hours crawled by like molasses. Jada forced herself to move, going through simple qigong exercises to keep her blood flowing and her mind clear.
Horse stance, bow stance, cat stance, holding each position until her muscles burned, then flowing into the next. The familiar movements helped center her, even in this unfamiliar space. She thought about all the civil rights activists who'd sat in cells like this one, not just the famous names from textbooks, but the countless others whose stories were never recorded. How many had felt this same mix of fear and determination? How many had wondered if their sacrifice would matter?
At 2:45 a.m., the lights flickered again. Jada stopped her exercises, using her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Her body ached from the concrete floor and the earlier rough handling, but she refused to let it show in her posture. Officer Martinez returned at 2:55 a.m. Your lawyer's here. Come on.
The handcuffs felt colder this time as they clicked around her wrists. Jada kept her head high as Martinez led her through empty corridors to the attorney meeting room. The fluorescent lights were just as harsh here, but they didn't flicker. Mrs. Price sat at the metal table, her silver hair gleaming, back straight despite the late hour. She wore her court suit, navy blue with a crisp white collar, and her reading glasses hung from a chain around her neck.
The sight of her familiar, dignified presence made Jada's throat tight. "Those handcuffs aren't necessary, Officer," Mrs. Price said firmly. "My client is a 16-year-old honor student, not a dangerous criminal." To Jada's surprise, Martinez nodded and removed the cuffs without argument. "I'll be outside," she said, closing the door behind her.
"Sit down, child," Mrs. Price said softly. "You look exhausted." Jada sank into the metal chair, rubbing her wrists. I'm okay. I just I'm not sure if I did the right thing anymore.
Maybe I should have waited. Found another way. No. Mrs. Price's voice was gentle but firm. You did exactly what needed to be done.
And now, I have something to show you. She opened her briefcase and removed a thick manila envelope, yellowed with age. This is why I needed to wait until tonight. When certain eyes weren't watching. The first hints of dawn were beginning to show through the barred window.