“What you don’t see, Rose,” he said to me, “is that I am in danger here.” We had lunch together, and the white waitress scowled when we declared we would share the soup. When we got to the police station, he shrunk in his car.

He offered to drive me around as I spoke to neighbors of the shooter, community members, the police and activists.īut as we entered Dearborn Heights, a white suburb, I noticed Justin would let me out of the car but never come with me. I am a medium-sized white woman, with peroxide hair and a very British accent. Justin is 6ft 5in, weighs 300lb and looks like he could be a former American football player.