Good evening, and welcome to the Channel 5 News at 5.

In our top story, tragedy in Oak Ridge this afternoon, where two young men in an SUV were shot at a traffic light.

The incident occurred just after noon at the intersection of Thirteenth Street and Marshall Avenue. According to the wife of the shooter—who was riding in the passenger seat—there was a brief dispute over loud music before shots were fired from one vehicle into the other.

The identities of the wounded are being withheld pending further investigation, but we’ve received reports that one of the teens was pronounced dead en route to the hospital, and the other is in critical condition.

The shooter has been identified as fifty-two-year-old Garrett Tison, an officer with the Atlanta PD. Officer Tison was not on duty at the time of the shooting and was taken into police custody at the scene.

More on this story as it continues to develop.

February 1

DEAR MARTIN,

He’s gone.

Never did anything to anyone, and now Manny’s gone.

—

I can’t do this anymore.

Twenty-seven days.

That’s how long the Riverses keep Manny’s body in a mortuary cold chamber, waiting for his best friend to recover enough to attend the funeral. Frankly, Jus wishes they’d gone ahead and had it without him. He really doesn’t wanna be here.

The first words out of the pastor’s mouth were “We are not here to mourn a death. We’re here to celebrate a life, gone on to glory.” Manny didn’t even believe in heaven and hell. Jus can imagine him saying: The only place I’ve “gone on” to is that overpriced casket.

Jus didn’t have it in him to go up and look at the body during the viewing. He knows the cause of death—“gunshot wound to the head”—because he asked to see the death certificate, and the Riverses consented. To see Manny laid out all serene after knowing there was a bullet somewhere in his head? Yeah, there’s no way. Jus can’t do that.

He would love to just get up and walk out. Keep going until his legs fall off or he dies from thirst or starvation or exhaustion or some combination of the three. Problem is there are media people everywhere outside. Based on some of the “speculation” he’s heard—Manny threatened Garrett Tison, one of the boys threw something into Tison’s Suburban, Justyce had a gun, etc.—he’d rather not be seen.

Not that being inside is much better. People keep peeping over their shoulders at him where he’s sitting at the back of the church with Mama. He has sunglasses on, but he can see them sneaking glances. Marveling at the Boy Who Survived (that’s what they’ve been calling him on the news).

Mama squeezes his good arm. He’s still relearning how to use his other one, which is currently in a sling. The shot to the chest cracked a rib and punctured his right lung, but the bullet he took to the right shoulder messed up a bunch of nerves. After three surgeries, he finally regained feeling in his fingertips.

As the pastor leaves the pulpit and the choir stands, Justyce looks around the packed interior of the church. He takes in all the dark suits and dresses, the tearstained faces and shaking shoulders, and the collective sorrow hits him so hard, the room blurs out of focus. The one thing he can see clearly is the face of Sarah-Jane Friedman. She’s watching him.

It triggers a series of flashbacks from his more heavily drugged days in the hospital: SJ standing over him, weeping, his left hand gripped in her right one, her left hand stroking his face (Mama was obviously not around); the sound of Dr. Rivers saying, “We’re so glad you made it, Justyce.” Mama crying and asking his forgiveness because she had to go back to work. Melo being escorted out because she wouldn’t stop wailing.

Speaking of Melo, Jus can see her too. Honestly, if it weren’t for Mama, he’s sure she’d try to glue herself to his side. She organized the group of Atlanta Falcons football players who came to escort Jus home from the hospital in a luxury party bus.

Of course it made the news.

As Mr. Rivers approaches the pulpit to deliver the eulogy—he asked Jus if he wanted to do it, but there was no way in hell—Jus sees Jared and the “bros.” They’re all sitting near the front with their parents, and he wonders if Jared and Mr. Christensen feel like the assholes they are. If it hadn’t been for that damn phone call, Manny and Jus would’ve been headed to Stone Mountain. They wouldn’t have been on the same road as Garrett Tison.

Manny would still be here.

Jared turns around like he can feel Jus jabbing arrows into the back of his head. The moment they see each other (though Jared wouldn’t know because of Justyce’s sunglasses), fury wraps around Jus so tightly, he almost can’t breathe. Even from a distance, Jus can tell Jared’s eyes are haunted. Like the floor has opened up beneath him and there’s no bottom to his agony.

Jus recognizes the expression because he’s feeling the same way. It makes him want to burn the world down.

—

Once the service is over, Jus walks with Mama to the bathroom before they head to the burial site (he doesn’t want to go). As soon as she steps in, who steps out but Sarah-Jane Friedman. His mouth falls open a little, and when she sees him, she freezes.

Jus takes his sunglasses off. She’s in a navy pantsuit, no makeup, dark hair pulled back into a bun. Her eyes—which are red from crying—rove over his face, and he’s so relieved to see something other than pity burning in them, he almost reaches out to hug her with his good arm.

It’s quite the predicament: wanting to touch and hug and kiss a white girl after a white man shot him and killed his best friend?

“Hey,” he says.

Her eyes fill with tears. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Pretty sure that’s what I should be asking you, Jus.”

He looks away. Shrugs.

Moments pass that feel like hours. Days. Years. Centuries.

She sighs. “So I know we haven’t talked much bu—”

“I miss you, S.”

Her head snaps up.

“I mean it,” Jus says. And why shouldn’t he tell her? He’s already lost his other best friend.

SJ opens her mouth to speak—

The ladies’ room door opens. “You ready, Just—?” Mama sees SJ. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize you were speaking with someone.”

“Ma, this is Sarah-Jane,” Jus says, never taking his eyes off SJ.

Mama: Lovely to meet you.

SJ: Same to you, Ms. McAllister.

Mama turns to Justyce. “I’m gonna head on out to the car. You coming?”

“I’ll meet you there,” he says. “I want to walk SJ out.”

“No, no. You don’t have to. My parents are actually waiting for me. I’ll see you at the grave site?”

“Oh. Yeah. Okay. Bye, S.”

“Bye, Jus.”

As SJ disappears around the corner, Mama’s expression shifts to a frown. “Sarah-Jane, huh? You know her from school or something?”

“She’s my debate partner, Ma. I’ve mentioned her plenty of times.”

“Hmph. I saw how she was looking at you. More on that girl’s mind than debate—”