A Whitney Houston favorite, "I Will Always Love You," flowed through the air. Sunlight streamed in from an open window. I hope this heat won't have its way tonight. Patrick held out his hands and asked, "Would you like to dance?"
Four-year-old Maggie dropped her baby-doll named Annie. Barefoot, she rushed to Patrick, jumped on top of his feet, and wriggled. "Dance."
He moved her forward and back. Maggie chuckled, and Patrick laughed.
One step right. One step left. Father and daughter glided across the living room.
When the song was over. Patrick raised Maggie, kissed the top of her head. "You're beautiful."
"Oh, I know, I look like Mommy."
He put her down. "Wouldn't want an ugly mug like mine, would ya?" Patrick beamed.
Maggie puckered her rosebud lips and thought as she studied his face, "I think you're pretty."
Twenty minutes later, Patrick now dressed in his blue uniform left the house.
Mommy walked into the room, picked up the doll, and said, "Maggie, it's time for your bath.
An out-of-control crowd.
The second night of protests in the streets, people were dancing—some raising ugly dolls of the American President. Others were holding up civil rights signs.
Chanting, "kill cops" and shouts of "burn it down."
Like wolves searching for food, they devoured anyone in their path, including peaceful protestors. Rioters, wearing masks, helmets, and dressed in black. Agitators screaming profanities threw bricks, rocks, and Molotov cocktails. Looting the stores, they destroyed.
Patrick wearing protective gear moved through the mob. A shield in front of him—uncontrollable violence.
Flames and smoke. Everything on fire.
Pieces of fragmented steel flew. Shots fired. Hit— officer down!
The warm glow of the dance went out. Patrick's uniform sullied.
Alone in her room, Maggie picks up her doll. With a blue crayon, she furiously colors Annie's face. She holds it up. "Ugly mug. Dance."