“Male. Young. Athletic.”
Marcus almost laughed again.
“That's half the neighborhood.”
The officer looked at him.
Marcus immediately lowered his voice.
“Sorry.”
Mrs. Thompson wasn't smiling.
“What color was his shirt?”
Officer Carter looked at Marcus's blue shirt.
“Blue.”
“What kind of shorts?”
“Dark.”
“What was he carrying?”
Officer Carter looked at the basketball.
“A basketball.”
Marcus stared at him.
“So they described me exactly.”
Mrs. Thompson looked toward the neighboring houses.
“Who knew he was here?”
Marcus thought about it.
“My friend.”
“Anyone else?”
He shook his head.
“I don't think so.”
Mrs. Thompson frowned.
“Did you speak to anyone?”
“No.”
“Did anyone approach you?”
“No.”
“Did anyone tell you to leave?”
“No.”
Officer Carter listened.
Something wasn't adding up.
He looked at Marcus again.
“Did you walk around the side of the house?”
“No.”
“Did you touch any doors?”
“No.”
“Did you attempt to look through windows?”
Marcus's expression changed.
“No.”
“Did you enter the backyard?”
“No.”
Mrs. Thompson interrupted.
“Officer, the security cameras cover the front driveway.”
Officer Carter looked at her.
“They do?”
“Yes.”
Marcus nodded.
“My son installed them last year.”
Mrs. Thompson pointed toward the corner of the garage.
“There.”
Officer Carter looked.
A small camera was mounted beneath the roofline.
Marcus suddenly felt hope.
“If the camera recorded me, you can see exactly what I was doing.”
Officer Carter nodded.
“That would be helpful.”
Mrs. Thompson walked toward the front door.
“I'll pull it up.”
She disappeared inside.
Marcus remained beside the officer.
The silence between them was different now.
Less confrontational.
More uncertain.
Officer Carter looked at the young man.
“You come here often?”
Marcus nodded.
“Sometimes.”
“For basketball?”
“Yeah.”
“You know the family well?”
“Yes.”
The officer looked toward the house.
Marcus could see something change in his face.
“You know Mrs. Thompson?”
“She's like family.”
Officer Carter nodded.
“That makes sense.”
Marcus looked at him.
“Then why didn't you ask me that first?”
The officer didn't answer.
It was a fair question.
And perhaps the most uncomfortable one.
Because the entire situation had begun with an assumption.
Someone had seen a young man.
Someone had become suspicious.
Someone had called.
And the officer had responded.
But nobody had asked Marcus who he was.
Nobody had asked why he was there.
Nobody had asked whether he had permission.
Instead, the police car had arrived.
The questions had come afterward.
Mrs. Thompson returned with her phone.
“I have the footage.”
Officer Carter stepped closer.
“What does it show?”
She pressed play.
The three of them watched.
The video showed Marcus arriving with the basketball.
He walked directly into the driveway.
He bounced the ball.
He took several shots.
He missed.
He retrieved the ball.
He laughed.
He continued playing.
Nothing else.
No attempt to enter the house.
No suspicious movement.
No confrontation.
No crime.
Marcus looked at the officer.
“That was it.”
Officer Carter nodded slowly.
“I see.”
Mrs. Thompson looked at him.
“Do you?”
The officer didn't respond immediately.
He looked at the footage again.
Then at Marcus.
Then at the house.
His expression was no longer suspicious.