Laura looked at her.
“My son was sitting beneath a tree.”
“Yes.”
“Waiting for his mother.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you call the police?”
Eleanor looked uncomfortable.
“I thought something was wrong.”
Laura's expression hardened.
“You thought something was wrong because a Black teenager was sitting alone in a public park.”
Eleanor's face turned pale.
“I didn't mean—”
“You didn't know anything about him.”
Laura paused.
“You didn't ask where he lived.”
She looked at the officers.
“You didn't ask whether he belonged here.”
Then she looked back at Eleanor.
“You simply decided he was suspicious.”
The crowd grew completely silent.
Laura placed her arm around Alex.
“Today, he's my son.”
She looked at the officers.
“Today, you know exactly who his mother is.”
Then she looked at the crowd.
“But what happens when the next child doesn't have a mayor for a mother?”
Nobody answered.