GB96 s2 - The Fellowship Part 5

It makes sense. The idea of criminals controlling the police isn’t exactly new. You’ve seen movies. Free Bois crashed suddenly into town and took over the **** trade. They didn’t make any friends in doing that and they don’t strike you as master criminals. The idea that they’re paying off the local police in order to be left alone would explain why they’re able to operate without anyone bothering them.

“Carla, let’s go,” your mom is saying.

“Hang on,” you reply, your attention on the police station. You have your watch back now and the sun is coming up. It’s been quite a while since you were locked up. Why hasn’t Stef been released yet? Where is Mr. Gibson?

“Did you like bail us out?” you ask your mom.

“No, they said it was a temporary hold.”

But the police had allowed you all to have your phone call. They hadn’t, uh… been too worried about any of your other rights, but they had allowed that. That’s how your mom knew to come here and hassle them about your release. The same for Ellen; she had been picked up. Had Stef not called Mr. Gibson? Had she been too embarrassed? No. Stef’s pride is big and terrible, but it’s not that terrible. She’s stupid, but not too stupid to know when she needs help.

“Do you have any change?” you ask your mom, hurrying toward a nearby payphone.

You dial Mr. Gibson. The phone rings. And rings. Something’s wrong.

“We have to get over there,” you tell your mom. Actually, no. Are they going to try to hold Stef? They can’t. The arrest last night wasn’t real; it was performative. Stef is an adult, and it’s not about being bailed out, it’s about them choosing to let her go. The police can theoretically hold her for twenty-four hours, about nine of which have passed… “Wait. You go.”

“What?”

“Go to Stef’s house. Find Mr. Gibson.”

“What about you?”

“I’m,” you say, turning back to the station. “I have to wait for Stef.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Mom, if Mr. Gibson isn’t here yet, he’s not coming. There won’t be anyone to pick her up. Something’s wrong.”

Your mom struggles to keep up, which is fair. She can’t read your mind. “Oh, shit. You’re thinking he might not be OK?”

“I don’t know. But someone needs to check on him. I’m sure everybody’s pissed at us for getting in trouble, but he wouldn’t just leave her here. He should be here. Go, Mom!” You push her, and she hurries back to her car. “Jesus Christ.” You turn back to the station, unsure what to do. Walking back in there is the last thing you want to do.

But you understand what’s going on now. That changes things.