I was loading up my groceries that I BOUGHT into my car when a patrol car stopped right in front of mine. Initially, I thought it was my husband who saw me and stopped for a quick chat. It wasn't him... It was a young white police officer who started questioning me as if I were some criminal.
Before I knew it, he accused me of stealing and handcuffed me. I tried to explain myself, but he wouldn't listen. So, I cooperated, knowing that my husband (the sheriff) was about to have a field day with this rookie.
As I sat in the back of his patrol car, I looked him straight in the eye. "Did you arrest me because I’m black?" I asked, my voice low but firm. He smirked back at me, shaking his head. "Using the race card, huh?" he replied arrogantly. I leaned back, mentally noting his dismissive tone. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right about all this. The tension in the car was palpable.
“I didn’t steal, sir,” I protested, keeping calm. "Please, show me your evidence." Lucas, the officer, chuckled, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "I caught you in the act," he insisted. "And there were witnesses too." I watched his face closely, noting the certainty in his voice. How could he possibly believe this nonsense? I was baffled, trying to process how buying groceries could somehow turn into this nightmare.