Across the bay from the attraction of flowers-in-your-hair San Francisco, lies the less salubrious city of Oakland. Kiara, a 17-year-old Black girl, struggles to survive. Her father is dead; her mother is in a half-way house after a stint in prison; her brother, Marcus, has no job but dreams of finding stardom as a rapper.
Kiara and Marcus live in the family apartment scraping money together to pay the rent. Her neighbours are in a similar situation and Kiara cares for the son, Trevor, as his mother is often absent. Her friend, Alejandra, sometimes supplies her with food from the family restaurant.
Kiara works odd shifts but they dry up. She needs money. She feels she has no choice but to sell the only commodity available to her: her body. Camila, an escort, suggests getting the protection of her pimp, but Kiara trusts her own instincts and her knowledge of the street. She’s picked up by the police, who trade her freedom for sexual favours. Soon she’s shared among the station’s predatory men.
As soon as she turns 18 – and now deemed an adult – she’s picked up by a female detective investigating the corrupt behaviour of the policemen who use/abuse her. Kiara is reticent to help, but the situation worsens as Marcus is arrested on drugs charges and Trevor – now solely in her care – is taken away by child services.
Kiara agrees to testify before a grand jury with the assistance of an attorney, who’s deliberately drawn as Kiara’s polar opposite: blonde, blue-eyed, successful.
The courtroom is where the narrative finds its feet, and probably where the story should have been concentrated. A sad story based on depressingly true events.
Reviewed by Bob Moore
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