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Samuel
~1993~
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My mother dropped her fork on her dinner plate and glared at me while asking, “Who is that banging on the door like the police?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged.
Whoever it was, banged with such force that the door shook on its hinges and the windows on the front of the house rattled.
Although I had recently turned nineteen, I still lived with my mother, and she always wanted us, my older sister Torrey and me to have dinner with her as a family. Mom didn’t ask for much, so as often as I could if I wasn’t working late or hanging with my friends, I ate dinner with her. Torrey was usually here for dinner too, but she was running late, so we started without her.
We had just sat down to eat when the knocking began. I knew it wasn’t any of my friends because my mother had taught me as a kid that no one interrupts family dinner. Several of my friends learned that lesson the hard way.
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My mother grabbed her napkin from her lap, threw it on the table and jumped up from her seat at the dining room table. She quickly walked to the front door and snatched it open without looking through the peephole. She was immediately pushed to the side by one cop while three other police officers rushed through the front door.
I jumped from my chair to go to the aid of my mother when two of the officers blocked my path; one stood in front of me, and the other moved to stand behind me.
“What is going on?” My mother yelled as she struggled to get free from the officer’s forearm pressing her back into the door.
“Samuel Valentine?” The cop standing in front of me spoke.
“Yes?” I answered while still trying to maneuver around him to get to my mother.
The cop behind me grabbed both my arms, pulling them behind me then slammed me face first onto the dining room table.
“What the hell!” I yelled as he aggressively pinned my arms behind me.
I knew this position. I was being arrested.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY SON!” My mother wailed.
“You are under arrest for murder,” the cop behind me announced.
“Murder?”
“Murder! What in the hell are you talking about?” My mother grunted still unable to free herself from the officer’s grip.
“Shut up!” The officer spat angrily with his forearm still to her chest.
“Aye, man stop yelling at my mother like that!” I yelled still pinned to the table.
The officer behind me applied more pressure to my back as he continued to speak, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”
“What’s going on!” Torrey yelled while running through the front door. She was immediately tackled to the ground by the third officer in the room.
“Oh, my God! That’s my daughter! Torrey! She didn’t do anything,” my mother screamed.
