Freedom Writers2007

Marcus:
Clive was my boy. He had my back plenty of times. Me and him was like one fist. One army. [Clive pulls a gun out of a paper bag and accidentally shoots himself] I sat there until the police came. But when they come, all they see is a dead body, a gun, and a n*gger. They took me to juvenile hall. First night was the scariest. Inmates banging on the walls, throwing up gang signs, yelling out who they were and where they from. I cried my first night. I never let anybody know that. I spent the next few years in and out of cells. Every day I worry, when will I be free?