“Will this happen to our boys?” Again it was three-thirty in the morning. Mark and Starr were sitting up in bed in the dark. Starr had stirred when Mark had gotten home, asked him, How was your night? If he was regretting having done so, he didn’t let on.
“Will people call the police on them just for walking down the street?” Mark carried on. “Your family has lived in this neighborhood for generations. Am I gonna take a call from someone telling me they don’t ‘belong’ here?”
Starr took Mark’s hand. “You’ve been doing this job long enough to know the answer, babe.”
“I’m sorry, babe, but it doesn’t get to make this woman ‘severely uncomfortable’ to have my kids walk down the street. Or this kid she called about. Or anybody! Walking down the street waving a gun, or swinging a golf club, or
