More on this story as it continues to develop.

For the most part, Jus isn’t surprised when a pair of cops approach him and Mama after Bras Prep’s commencement ceremony. Since Blake’s “Justyce assaulted me” stunt fell flat—even the pundits were smart enough to ignore a kid photographed in a KKK robe—Jus figured it was only a matter of time before he got accused of something else.

And he was right: not twelve hours after news broke that the fire at Garrett Tison’s house was set by someone outside it, the same newspeople who instigated “Thug-Gate” were speculating about Justyce’s “involvement in the arson plot.” Despite having nothing to do with it, for four days now, he’s been waiting for someone—cop, reporter, angry mob—to come after him.

Just sucks that he’s still in his cap and gown, surrounded by his classmates and their families, when someone does.

“Justyce McAllister?” the female of the pair says. She’s black. Slacks and a button-down. Badge on her belt.

“Yes?”

“I’m Detective Rosalyn Douglass, and this is Officer Troy.” She points to the white guy in uniform. “You mind if we ask you a few questions?”

Mama steps forward and crosses her arms. “I’m his mother, and he’s a minor. What can I do for you, Officers?”

“We mean your son no harm, ma’am,” says Officer Troy. “Just have a few queri—”

“I don’t give my consent.”

Detective: Ma’am, your son is seventeen years of age, and therefore an adult according to Georgia criminal law—

“My son isn’t a criminal, so that law doesn’t apply to him.”

The detective sighs and looks around before taking a step forward and lowering her voice. “Ma’am, we know this is a big day for your son. We’re trying not to make a scene here. If he’s willing to cooperate and answer a few questions for us, we might be able to avoid this going any further than it has to.”

“So lemme guess,” Mama says. “You’re good cop, and whitey over there is bad?”

“Ma, stop,” Jus says. “Let’s just hear them out so we can lea—”

“Do you officers have any idea of the kinda hell my boy’s been through at the hands of people like you? He’s been falsely accused and unlawfully held under arrest. He’s lost his best friend. He’s been shot—”

Detective: We’re well aware of your son’s background, Ms. McAllister. Our goal is to make this as painless as possible.

Jus: What’s this about?

Mama: I did not say you could talk to these people, Justyce!

Jus: Ma, if they wanna treat me like an adult, I’m gonna act like one.

She doesn’t say anything.

Jus steps around her and looks each cop in the eye. “You were saying, Officers?”

The detective nods as the white cop pulls out a notepad. “We appreciate your cooperation, Mr. McAllister.”

Justyce almost laughs.

Detective: On the night of May twentieth, there was a fire at the home of Garrett and Beverly Tison. The blaze was started at around eleven-forty-five p.m. You know anything about that?

Jus shrugs. “Only what I’ve seen on the news.”

The detective’s eyes narrow, and Justyce wonders if he’s being too nonchalant. He’s telling the truth, of course, but they obviously don’t know that.

Detective Douglass examines Justyce’s face—which makes him feel like a cockroach under a magnifying glass. “Will you excuse us for a moment?” she says, gesturing to the officer.

“Sure.”

The moment they step away, Mama rounds on Jus. “I don’t appreciate you speaking to me that way in front of those police officers. You should’ve let me handle it.”

“No offense, but I don’t think this is somethin’ you could ‘handle,’ Mama.”

“Well, if you woulda kept your mouth shut—”

“You realize once they said I don’t need your consent, refusing to talk would’ve made it look like I had something to hide, right? I turn eighteen in three weeks and head to college in ten. You can’t protect me forever.”

Mama’s jaw drops, but before she has a chance to respond, the cops come back.

“Okay, Justyce,” the detective says. (So he’s Justyce now, huh?) “This is the deal: we arrested three young men caught on camera siphoning gasoline from cars in a Walmart parking lot near the Tison home. Two of them…” Officer Troy passes her the notepad. “ ‘…Trey Filly and Bradley Mathers,’ ” she reads, “named you as an accomplice.”

Jus shakes his head. Of course it was Black Jihad. Jus can’t believe he considered joining up with those fools. “I promise I had nothing to do with it, Detective.”

She nods. “Well, we’re hesitant to believe these guys. For one, they’ve both tried to implicate innocent parties before. For two, the third young man did not mention you, which, considering the circumstances, is a little odd.”

“Okay…”

“I’m going to ask you a series of yes-or-no questions. Just answer truthfully and this should go pretty fast.”

Jus nods.

“Were you aware of an arson plot involving the home of Garrett Tison?”

“No.”

“Have you had any contact with Trey Filly or Bradley Mathers in the past two months?”

“Yes.”

Mama gasps—Jus is sure she knows both of those clowns by name—and the cops exchange another glance.

“How many times have you had contact with either of these boys in the past two months?”

“Once.”

“And what was the nature of this contact?”

Justyce gulps. “I went to meet someone, and they were there.”

“Who were you meeting?”

“If they’re not connected to the arson, does it matter?” Mama cuts in.

The detective clears her throat. Jus is so relieved, he could kiss Mama.

Detective Douglass continues: “Did you have any contact with either Trey Filly or Bradley Mathers on the night of May twentieth?”

“Absolutely not. Haven’t seen or spoken to either of those guys since April twentieth.”

Officer Troy’s eyebrows rise. “That’s pretty specific.”

“It was a pretty memorable day.”

“What was memorable about it?” Detective Douglass asks.

“Something unrelated to what we’re talking about.”

Jus can feel Mama’s gaze burning into him.

“Where were you on the night of May twentieth?” the detective goes on.

“I can assure you, it wasn’t anywhere near those guys or that fire.”

“Is there someone who can verify your whereabouts?”

“Ye—”

“I can,” Mama says. “He was with me.”

Jus could leave it at that. He knows he could. Yes, he can tell the cops are suspicious, but he knows that to dig deeper, they would need a warrant.

But lying to the police after everything he’s been through?

Nah.

“You’re getting confused, Ma. I wasn’t with you. We went to visit Daddy’s grave on the twenty-first, not the twentieth.” And this is true.