Chapter 1: WRONG DAY TO BE LUCKY

The gun doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t read stickers. It doesn’t care about the bear or the flag the bear is holding. The young child was born here. Citizen by birth. Naturalized, documented, stamped, and filed. His father is a doctor. His mother cares for three children in a house with an American flag on the front porch. They pay taxes, attend town halls, and voted for Trump. They did everything right. None of that matters at this moment. The child sits still. He’d been taught that stillness keeps you alive. A sticker across his mouth reads I ❤ USA. It spoke for him because he already knew his voice might not save him. The teddy bear held the flag like a permission slip. Perhaps waving the right symbol might make the wrong moment stop. It didn’t. Citizenship is a word on paper, and paper folds, and tears. It means nothing when the hand on the other side of the glass has already decided what you are. It doesn’t matter if you were born here. It doesn’t matter if your grandfath