August 7, 1968
by Amy
There's an enormous amount of paperwork to fill out when you bring a lawsuit against the city of Chicago. We met with the lawyer this morning to go over all of the paperwork. He wanted us to fully understand what we were signing. Lesley didn't say much during the whole thing. She folded her arms and kept squeezing herself, as if she was super cold. Bea peppered the lawyer with questions, but I didn't listen to them. Glasses kept squinting, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
This is, quite possibly, a really bad idea. Daley keeps a list of enemies. Chicago police are nothing to fuck with. Chicagoans take a lot of pride in being scrappy and resourceful, but that's only because we have to be. They broke my wrist a few months ago. They've bugged our office. Now, my Dad says it's 'bugs not people.'
What's going to happen if I'm suddenly the victim of a crime? Are the police going to come or are they going to go out for donuts?
It feels like I'm living outside the country now. Like we're a group of outlaws. I don't have a city right now.
Glasses said that we should be very careful about how we drive - don't go over the speed limit. Be tight - don't cause trouble. The lawyer told us that if we experience anything remotely resembling police harassment, then we should give his office a call.
Courage. I need to find it right now.
