Someone had wrapped a jacket around her shoulders to cover her torn dress. “Why would you attack me?”
Marcus tried to speak, but one of the security guards pressed his face harder into the floor.
“Don’t say a word.” The guard growled in his ear. Marcus stayed silent. What could he say?
Who would believe him? He was a homeless man who had just destroyed a billionaire’s dress in front of 300 people.
He had no proof, no evidence. The dangerous men were gone. He knew exactly how this looked.
Police sirens wailed in the distance getting closer. By the time the police arrived and put handcuffs on Marcus, the videos were already going viral.
Someone had posted a video on Twitter, “Homeless man attacks billionaire at charity gala.” Another video on Instagram, “Crazy guy rips Abigail Carter’s dress.”
Face screaming in fear. On TikTok, “This is why we need better security at these events.”
The video spread like wildfire. Within an hour, millions of people had watched Marcus grab and tear Abigail’s dress.
Within 2 hours, everyone had an opinion. “Lock him up.” “Homeless people are so dangerous.”
“That poor woman must be traumatized.” “The dress cost $50,000 and he destroyed it.” Nobody knew the truth.
Nobody cared about the truth. They only saw what the video showed, a homeless man attacking a rich woman.
Marcus sat in a police holding cell, his hands still cuffed, his lips still bleeding.
He could hear the officers talking in the next room. “Open and shut case.” One officer said.
“We’ve got it all on video. Multiple witnesses. The guy’s probably mentally ill.” “Did he say why he did it?”
Another officer asked. “He won’t talk. Hasn’t said a word since we brought him in.”
Marcus stayed quiet because he knew the truth sounded crazy. If he said, “I heard two men planning to hurt her, so I ripped her dress to save her life.”
They would think he was insane. They would lock him up in a hospital instead of a jail.
So he said nothing. Morning, Marcus was taken to court for his first hearing. He wore an orange jumpsuit.
His hands were cuffed. He looked exactly like what everyone thought he was, a criminal.
The judge, a tired-looking woman with gray hair, read the charges. “Marcus Reed, you are charged with assault, destruction of property, and disturbing the peace.
How do you plead?” Marcus looked at the judge. He looked at the police officers.
He looked at the lawyer the court had given him, a young man who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.
“Not guilty.” Marcus said quietly. The courtroom buzzed with whispers. The prosecutor, a sharp-dressed woman with cold eyes, stood up.
“Your honor, this is ridiculous. We have dozens of videos showing Mr. Reed attacking Ms.
