"It began with peanut butter," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear.

"I'm sure that was what went wrong," she said to herself.

Her hands shook as she sat in the chair, her eyes filled with pain.

When she arrived, she had said it was all for fun and she never meant any harm. But now, as she spoke to me, her eyes were filled with tears, and her words were choked with sobs.

"If I had known, I wouldn't have offered him any," she cried.

"I didn't know I would end up being arrested for sharing."

In that moment, a chilling truth hung in the air - a stark contrast to the innocence etched across her tear-stained face. This town had a grim history of presuming guilt when it came to individuals with a certain shade of skin.

Despite the undeniable evidence of her innocence, I couldn't escape the disheartening reality that had cast its shadow over our pursuit of justice. As her tears continued to fall, I could see the fire of resilience burning in her eyes, a woman determined not to be unjustly swallowed by the unforgiving darkness of prejudice.

"Ma'am, relax your nerves and tell me everything," I said, trying to reassure her that I was here to help.

She took a deep breath, and I handed her a bottle of water. Not out of kindness, but because I needed a sample of her DNA to prove her innocence.

"I sat on my chair, minding my own business-" she began, gulping in bile, one could tell how scared she was and yet angry at the same time.

"-I had a cup of coffee and a loaf of bread I purchased from the bakery down the street, because it was less expensive."

My pen raced across the notepad, capturing each word that tumbled from her quivering lips. The dim light in the room cast eerie shadows, making her face appear as though it held secrets too dark to reveal.

Her words hung in the air like an invisible web, and I, the spider, watched her body language with a detective's precision. Every twitch of an eyelid, every quiver of a lip, I dissected them all, seeking the truth that lay hidden beneath her facade of fear.

In that suspenseful moment, the room held its breath, as though the walls themselves yearned to unravel the mystery. Was she the innocent victim of circumstance, or did she harbor a dark secret that would forever alter the course of this investigation? Only time would tell, but for now, I was determined to decipher the enigma before me.

"This kid came to me, he seemed hungry, he kept staring at the bread I held in my hand-"

"The one you were about to eat?" I asked.

"Yes," she nodded.

"-I immediately handed it to him, I had already spread some peanut butter on it, they are my favourite spread." She added.

"The little boy took it without hesitation and began to eat it piece by piece. I made another sandwich and enjoyed mine."

"Halfway through eating the sandwich I gave him, he began coughing."

"More like choking, he fell to the ground and kept choking."

"And all you did was sit there and watch him die?" My colleague, Bernard, hopped in.

"I didn't kill him!" She yelled.

"I haven't killed anyone, I'm innocent," she pleaded in a low tone.

"Well, you have to start somewhere, black people are dangerous," Bernard taunted.

The lady began crying again, not because she was innocent, but because she feared her kindness had gotten her in trouble.

"Well, ma'am, you're guilty until the autopsy says otherwise," I said, feeling a pang of guilt at the words that left my mouth.

Immediately, I signaled the cops on standby to take her to her cell. The investigation was over, but I couldn't help but wonder what killed the little boy.

'Was he allergic to peanut butter?' 'Could she have poisoned him?' unanswered questions ran through my thoughts the curiosity kept growing but of course I kept these thoughts to myself, but I couldn't share my thoughts with Bernard. He would never let a black person go free for a crime.

All I could do was wait and hope that her God was alive. It would take a miracle for her to get out of this one.

Days turned into weeks as the investigation continued. The small town buzzed with rumors and accusations, each whispered tale painting Sarah as a malevolent figure. But in the dead of night, when the world slept, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

Without a doubt nor room for second thoughts, I was determined to uncover the truth, I delved deeper into the case. I interviewed witnesses, the waiter who claimed to have seen Sarah and the little gave positive feedback.

"She's a woman of colour, I could remember her sitting quietly and the little boy pacing her, she didn't look like she meant any harm I took my eyes off for a minute and the boy was on the ground gasping for air -"

"Do you know 'lying'..." With his fingers in the air Bernard made an air quote.

"... and obstruction of justice is an offence punishable by 5years in prison?". Bernard grinned, he didn't even let the waiter finish.

"Officer, I have no reason to lie here. This is my eye witness confession." The waiter was taken aback, however he defended himself duely.

The interrogation abruptly ended, I found liberty and scoured through medical records, and consulted experts. The more I dug, the more I realized that the answer wasn't as simple as it seemed.

It turned out that the little boy had a severe peanut allergy, one that even his parents were unaware of. Sarah had unknowingly given him a death sentence with that simple act of kindness. But there was something else I couldn't ignore—a shadow lurking in the background.

Bernard's biases and prejudices gnawed at my conscience. I couldn't let an innocent woman suffer because of his bigotry. I discreetly collected evidence, trying to find a way to clear Sarah's name.

However, the autopsy report arrived, confirming what I had suspected all along—death by anaphylaxis due to a severe peanut allergy. It was a tragic accident, a cruel twist of fate that had shattered two lives.

I presented the findings to the authorities, and collectively, they agreed to release Sarah. But Bernard remained bitter, but justice had been served, and I knew that, at least in this instance, goodness had prevailed over prejudice.

As I watched Sarah walked out of the police station, her tear-stained face illuminated by the gloomy mode, I couldn't help but wonder about the fragility of life and the power of compassion. The story of the peanut butter had begun with fear and suspicion, but in the end, it had become a testament to the enduring human spirit, where even in the darkest moments, there was a glimmer of hope.