The bustling streets of Downtown were alive with energy as Linda made her way through the crowd, her elegant strides standing out amidst the hurry.

Her phone buzzed in her handbag; she retrieved it effortlessly, bringing it to her ear. The excited voices of her children filled the air, their words overlapping in their enthusiasm.

“Mommy, I want a pink dress with Barbie prints!” her daughter exclaimed.

Linda couldn’t help but smile, her heart swelling with love. “Alright, my little dumpling. We’ll get you a pink dress.”

Her son’s voice chimed in eagerly, “Mommy, I want a Captain America tee!”

“Of course, my brave little man. A superhero tee it is,” Linda replied, laughing. “Now, be good for Nanny Rosie, okay?”

With a chuckle, she ended the call. Thoughts of her children’s requests filled her mind as she noticed the Mayflower Fashion Emporium ahead. The timing couldn’t have been better.

Linda’s pace quickened, her mind envisioning the joy on her children’s faces when they saw their new clothes. She had been looking forward to exploring a boutique in the shopping mall.

As she approached, the store’s inviting facade and sophisticated atmosphere beckoned to her. Linda’s excitement grew as she embarked on an impromptu shopping spree. She needed clothes for her kids and something special for herself for an important event later that evening.

However, her intentions were abruptly halted by a stern voice. “Excuse me, Ma’am,” said a security guard named Martin, blocking her path. He stared at her with a frown, as if she had trespassed into his personal space.

Linda paused, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Yes, can I help you?” she asked politely.

Martin’s gaze lingered on her, unyielding. “I need to hold your bag, Ma’am. Store policy for security reasons,” he explained.

Surprised, Linda looked around and noticed that other shoppers were entering with their bags. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Why only my bag?” she questioned.

The security guard’s response was curt and cold. “We’ve had issues with shoplifting. I’m just following orders. Give me your bag or leave.”

Linda’s heart skipped a beat as she began to understand what was happening. Despite the unfairness of the situation, she hesitated to escalate things. With a resigned sigh, she handed over her bag, silently protesting with her eyes.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Martin said, lacking any warmth in his tone. He stepped aside but continued watching her every move.

As Linda browsed through the store, an unsettling feeling of being watched followed her. Martin trailed closely behind, his presence looming like a dark shadow. It was frustrating and invasive.

Desperate for privacy, Linda selected a dress and entered the changing room. But when she tried to close the curtains, Martin’s voice stopped her.

“Ma’am, you need to keep the curtains open,” he stated.

Linda turned to him, astonished. “Excuse me? Why would I do that?”

Martin shrugged. “It’s store policy, Ma’am. We need to ensure no items are concealed.”

Finally, the truth couldn’t be denied. This went beyond the bag and surveillance. It was about her, her identity, and her skin color. A bitter taste filled her mouth as she realized the discrimination at play.

“This is ridiculous. I want to speak to your manager immediately,” Linda demanded, her voice slightly shaky but determined.

Martin reached for his walkie-talkie. “Miss Jones, we have a situation in the changing rooms,” he called into the device.

Moments later, a woman in a red polka dot dress and a white blazer, Miss Jones, the general manager, arrived. She observed the scene with curiosity. “What’s the problem here?” she asked, eyeing Linda.

Linda didn’t waste time. “I’m being treated differently in your store. Your guard won’t let me change in privacy. This is unacceptable and feels discriminatory.”

Miss Jones narrowed her eyes as she assessed Linda. “Our policies are for everyone’s safety. If Martin says you can’t close the curtain, then you can’t.”

With a determined look, Linda carried on, “This is not just about the curtain. It’s about how I’m being singled out. I want to know why, or I will call the police.”

Miss Jones smirked delicately. “No need for that.”

Before Linda could argue further, Officer Daniels, a uniformed police officer, entered the boutique with a nonchalant demeanor. He chewed gum as he assessed the situation.

“What’s going on here?” he inquired, glancing at Linda and then turning to Miss Jones.

Miss Jones quickly filled him in. “This woman is causing a scene. We suspect she might be trying to shoplift.”

Outraged, Linda interjected, “Excuse me? That’s not true! I’ve done nothing wrong. They won’t let me change in private.”

Officer Daniels looked Linda up and down, his gaze lingering a bit too long. “What little secret are you hiding under your shirt? Take it off. Let me see!” he said with a leering grin.

Shocked and humiliated, Linda recoiled. “How dare you? I demand respect and privacy. This is harassment!”

Ignoring her protests, Officer Daniels turned to Martin. “Did you check her bag?”

Handing Linda’s bag to the officer, Martin watched as Officer Daniels searched through it with a sense of entitlement. Helpless and seething, Linda could only watch as he triumphantly held up a new white padded bra.

“Look what we have here,” Officer Daniels announced, exaggerating his find. “Seems like Miss Jones’ suspicions were right.”

Tears of frustration welled up in Linda’s eyes as the situation intensified. “I didn’t put that in my bag! They must’ve planted it!”

Miss Jones chimed in, “We don’t need any more proof, Officer Daniels. She’s a thief. Make her undress to see if she has stolen more clothes!”

The room closed in on Linda as the police officer approached, forcing her into the changing room. “I’m afraid, Miss Jones, that you’ll have to take it from here. The law doesn’t allow me to touch her in that way.”

Distressed, Linda pleaded, “You can’t do this! You can’t force me to undress!”

Undeterred, Officer Daniels sneered, “You’re coming with me, lady. Let’s see if you can explain this away at the station.”

In a desperate moment, Linda’s phone, still in her purse, began to ring insistently. “I need to answer that,” she urged. “Please, it might be my children.”

Officer Daniels hesitated, but sensing an opportunity to exert control, he retrieved her phone and answered the call, putting it on speaker.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice resonated from the phone. “Good evening. This is Miss Holmes from the mayor’s office. Am I speaking with Miss Davidson?”

The room fell silent. Officer Daniels’ confidence wavered, replaced by a frown.

“This is Linda Davidson,” she replied, her voice steady.

Miss Holmes continued, “Are you alright, Miss Davidson? You sound distant. I just wanted to confirm your attendance. The mayor is expecting you at tonight’s event.”

Linda made a decision in that moment, fueled by adrenaline. “I am being unlawfully detained at the Mayflower Fashion Emporium by a police officer. He’s accusing me of theft and has handcuffed me. So, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it.”

Officer Daniels’ face tightened as Miss Holmes expressed concern. “Unlawful detention? I’m transferring you to Sheriff Carson.”

Sheriff Carson, authoritative and resolute, took the call. “Miss Davidson, this is Sheriff Carson. What’s happening there?”

Linda recounted the events, her voice growing stronger as she witnessed the panic on the faces of the cop, security guard, and store manager. She also made sure to mention their names.

Officer Daniels appeared eager to protest, but Sheriff Carson responded sternly. “Officer Daniels, release her now! Miss Davidson is the new District Attorney. You’ve made a grave mistake. I’m sending several patrol units over there.”

The cop fumbled with the handcuffs, releasing Linda. He offered apologies, but Linda stood tall, her chin held high.

“I’ll be filing a formal complaint,” she asserted. “This isn’t just about me. It’s about every person who’s been unjustly treated because of their race in this store.”

As Linda gathered her belongings, Miss Jones attempted a feeble apology, offering free clothes as compensation. Linda scoffed at the manager’s audacity.

“No, thank you. I don’t need free clothes from racists. I’ll take my bag, please,” Linda said firmly, reaching out to Martin, whose trembling body language mirrored that of a dog with its tail between its legs.

With her head held high, Linda walked out of the boutique, determined to speak with the mayor about changes to the laws on racial discrimination and abuse of power in her district.

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