No, not my life, but of this experience. I'll write it down in the notebook they let me keep. I'll call it what the lady who is the prosecutor called me. Camera goes slowly down grim, gray corridor. Most of the voices are clearly Black or Hispanic.
Camera stops and slowly turns toward a cell.
He is thin, brown skinned. On the cot next to him are the suit and tie he is to wear to court for the start of his trial. Ain't no use putting the blanket over your head, man. This is the real deal. As he does, words appear on the screen, just like the opening credits of the movie Star Wars, rolling from the bottom of the screen and shrinking until they are a blur on the top of the screen before rolling off into space.