Chapter Five: The Standoff
By afternoon, the compound was surrounded. Policemen, two vans, one neighborhood vigilante vehicle parked at the corner. An Inspector with a megaphone approached the door.
“Samuel, this is Inspector Bala of the FCT Police Command. We don’t want anyone hurt. Come out peacefully.”
Samuel stood near the window, peeking through the curtains.
“You want to arrest me? For what? For loving her too much?”
Inside, Chiamaka was praying under her breath. Her mother held her hand, whispering scripture: Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…
Samuel sat on the floor and wept. Loud, broken sobs. Then laughter. Then silence again. He was unraveling.
“You said you loved me,” he said, looking at Chiamaka. “Was that a lie too?”
“I’m sorry, Samuel. Please, don’t do this. We can fix this. You need help.”
“No. You need to feel what I felt.”
Then, a crash. Tear gas shattered the back window.
Samuel panicked. His eyes burned. He stumbled, grabbed a knife.
“No, please!” Chiamaka screamed.
Shots rang out.
