The plea hung in the air of Atlanta Airport, Terminal T South. A soldier stood there, having just stepped off a flight that marked the end of a fourteen-month deployment. He was finally on American soil, finally minutes away from home.
Officer Lawson didn’t seem to hear the exhaustion in the man’s voice. He snatched the soldier’s military ID from his hand, let out a sharp, mocking laugh, and tossed the card onto the dirty floor. «Fake,» he sneered. «A black man in a stolen uniform doesn’t make you a soldier, pal. It makes you a criminal.»
Beside him, Officer Walsh grabbed the soldier’s duffel bag and upended it. Socks, shirts, and toiletries tumbled onto the polished tile. Officer Tanner stepped forward and brought his heavy boot down on a soft purple object that had fallen out—a stuffed rabbit, a gift intended for a six-year-old girl.
«That’s my daughter’s,» the soldier said, his voice tight.
Lawson shoved him hard, forcing him face-down onto the cold, unforgiving tile. «Hands behind your head,» he barked. «Like the thug you are.»
