Lazarus's Top 50 Movies of All Time - Page 2

It was an unmarked car, just some nondescript American sedan a few years
old, but the blackwall tires and the three men inside gave it away for what it
was. The two in front were wearing blue uniforms. The one in back was
wearing a suit, and he was as big as a house. A pair of black boys standing on
the sidewalk, one with a foot on a scuffed orange skateboard, the other with a
lime-colored board under his arm, watched it turn into the parking lot of the
Estelle Barga Recreational Park, then looked at each other.
One said, 'That's Five-O.'
The other said, 'No shit.'
They headed off with no further conversation, pumping their boards. The
rule was simple: when Five-O shows up, it's time to go. Black lives matter,
their parents had instructed them, but not always to Five-O. At the baseball
field, the crowd began to cheer and clap rhythmically as the Flint City Golden
Dragons came to bat in the bottom of the ninth, one run down.
The boys didn't look back.