When you’re Blue, you don’t sing; For this copper, silence IS golden.

Part Three: Who Do You Protect And Who Do you Serve?

The case of Justine’s shooting moves funereally slow,
Have the Polis closed ranks lest their Apprehension show?

In high summer the skies of Minneapolis look gray,
Up there, there may be a break of blue, but who’s to say?

How difficult getting Officer Noor’s testimony is proving,
Just as Justine lies silent, so too his lips remain cold, unmoving.

No apology, no point, no reason of why he shot that night;
Hoping to ride it out, hide out till the Press switch their spotlight?

Had it been one who administers the law who’d died
Would not the shooter already be tried or at least inside?

As time trails by, in a chill alley, shadowed, dark,
The trail goes cold, fading like a forgotten chalk mark.

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