I watched from the porch as they put Ricky in the back of the squad car. His hands were cuffed, his head hung low, and no matter how many times I called his name, he wouldn’t look at me.

He’s a good kid. Stubborn, like his father was, but good. He made mistakes, sure—what fifteen-year-old doesn’t? But I knew in my bones he wasn’t a criminal.

The officer—tall, late 30s, tired eyes—barely met my gaze as he shut the door. “He’ll be booked downtown, ma’am,” he said. “You’ll be able to see him soon.”

And just like that, they drove away.

The house was too quiet after that. I sat in the same chair by the window, waiting for a call, a knock—anything. But hours passed, and nothing.

Then, late that evening, there was a knock at the door.

It was the officer. Alone.

I stiffened. “Where’s Ricky?”

His jaw tightened. “He’s being processed.” Then, after a pause, he exhaled. “Ms. Halloway… there’s something you need to know.”

I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

He hesitated. Then, in a voice I barely recognized, he said, “I arrested the wrong kid.”

My heart stopped.

But before I could even process that, he added, “And I think I know who set him up.”

I gripped the doorframe to steady myself. “What are you saying?”

The officer, who I now noticed had a name tag reading “R. Daniels,” stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “The evidence we found in Ricky’s backpack—it was planted. I didn’t see it at first, but something about it didn’t sit right with me. A security camera near the park caught someone slipping something into his bag.”

“Who?” My voice was barely a whisper.

Daniels exhaled sharply. “A kid named Troy Baxter.”

I closed my eyes. I knew that name. Troy had been Ricky’s best friend for years, but lately, their friendship had soured. Ricky had told me Troy was running with a rough crowd, getting into trouble. When Ricky refused to go along with it, the two had a falling out. I never imagined it could lead to something like this.

“Why would he do that?” I asked.

Daniels shook his head. “We don’t know yet, but I have a feeling he was trying to protect himself or someone else. We brought him in for questioning. He got nervous, started tripping over his own words.” He hesitated. “I wanted to come here first before I do something I should’ve done earlier.”

“And what’s that?”

“Get Ricky out of there.”

Tears blurred my vision. “Please, bring my grandson home.”