The St. Louis City bond system ups the already stressful task to locate and bail loved ones in custody. This either intentionally onerous &/or negligently oppressive process adds another layer of injustice.
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“Not today, buddy. Not on my watch. Now, get the fuck out of here and take your place at the back of the line where you belong.” The “douchebag” being implied by my judgy demeanor, of course. He skulked back from whence he came, never to be seen by us again.
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Funeral memory t-shirts were as rare as violence in white, wealthy neighborhoods. In poor, urban communities, the shirts underscored the anonymity of brutality, so relentlessly commonplace.
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