QR Code Murders: Yawquisha Hudlin

“I’m never going to say the cops were right, except for now,” Benchwood Ross admitted. Yawquisha Hudlin felt empowered now that her phone had been juiced. She held it up in a series of interviews.

“Thank you for your time. Please sign this digital release form,” she commanded with unerring politeness.

After a few swipes of the finger, Ross had signed away his right to indemnify Yawquisha.

“I mean have they solved the murders? I understand when they say they don’t care about us,” Fenwick Soren explained.

“Who is ‘us?’”

“Rappers,” he lifted his sleeve to expose the QR code on his arm.

“Am I a target of whoever is killing us or am I a target of the police or both? I would love to know.”

Yawquisha wanted to get a female perspective on the entire matter. She trekked in between the demonstrators. A jostling effort became the norm for her. She zigged while the crowd zagged. She finally came to a woman with wrap around braids and tortoise shell rimmed glasses.

“I think it is a complete travesty. My son is sixteen-years-old and wants to go to college. He also wants to be a rapper and put that damned body ink on his arm. As long as I have breath in my lungs, he will be on his way to higher learning. I earned an associates degree. I want him to best his mother with further degrees. I can’t stand the fact these killings continue to happen in this city. I can’t,” Shanelle Nagle commented.

Through the throngs, Yawquisha found ways to ask the right questions. She felt like a reporter in a warzone at times. The street glistened with the sun reflecting off puddles. If there were a day to demonstrate, this would be the time. The skies were clear and no other rain was expected for the area.

“I’m eighty-one years old now. I marched in the Sixties and other events. This just makes no sense. How are you going to have a boy who clearly wasn’t holding the weapon get shot eleven times by the police?”

“I’m telling you, you asked what now?”

Yawquisha restated her question. “How worried are you about Wilmington devolving into a battlefield?” she asked.

“I think if the cops want to shoot up people that pose no threat, and people want to be shooting up these youngsters, then it’s time for someone to make a change.”

“Thank you, sir.”

On to the next. Her phone sucked so much energy from the battery, she was halfway through a charge. Still, she persisted. She heard a car door slam and noticed Kim running after her. She caught up to the citizen journalist.

“What the hell was that?! You literally bailed on me back there. I thought we had an understanding.”

“I had to get out to meet with the individuals who make up this crowd. I couldn’t just sit back and wait for the interviews to come to me. I had to take action.”

“Alright. If you don’t want the protection of a detective of the Delaware State Police, that’s fine. But don’t ever say you were not covered.”

“I still am. You’re cool.”

“I’m what? I’m cool? Jesus, Yawquisha. You still have permission from Captain to ride-along. Don’t break that up just yet. I need you for your expertise about what happened before all of this. I still need you.”

“I’m flattered.”

“I’m serious your street acumen and keen eye led us to breakthroughs in these cases. There’s still time.”

Yawquisha looked at Kim again with that sense that she should salute her. The respect levels remained high within her.