Alonzo Jackson and Rasheed Plummer had joined that crowd on the Mall, eager to be part of history. It was four days after the Million Man March, with its message of atonement for black men across America. He is 18 now, at the bewildering intersection of child and adulthood, waiting for the light to change. 'I don't know how to define it.' Alonzo Jackson, a quiet college freshman, is fluent in the mumbles and shrugs that comprise the lingua franca of adolescence. 'Suspected shoplifting' and 'miscellaneous incident.'
The assistant store manager has trouble following the whole story, and when she later fills out her bungled report to corporate headquarters, she places an X in two different boxes to describe what happened: Something about black teenagers, a white cop and a green plaid shirt.
