behind bars.
The officer finished the search, grabbed my arms, and spun me around.
He was young. His face was tight with disgust.
He looked at me like I was the kind of person who could leave a family bleeding on the road—and drive away without looking back.
“Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?” he demanded.
He was waiting for me to panic. He was waiting for me to cry, to hyperventilate, to scream that it was my sister, to beg him to believe a
