"A convenience store owner in the Lima Heights area has been charged with murder in the fatal shooting of a 15-year-old boy on Tuesday after a quarrel over a can of Cola.
The 37-year-old proprietor, Darren Lee, is Caucasian and the boy, Tito Rodriguez, was Puerto Rican. The shooting has strained relations between Hispanics and whites in the area.
Mr Lee told the police that he had thought the boy was trying to steal the can of Cola. But Comdr. Lucas Shortt of the Lima Police Department said a videotape from a security camera showed that the boy had money in his hand and was not stealing.
Commander Shortt said the tape showed that the teenager had given up after a brief struggle, had left the Cola on the counter and was apparently leaving when he was shot..."
Santana switched off her old TV set and sat down with her back against the floor, tears streaming down her face. From her ninth floor apartment she could only hear the faint roar of the people on the ground below, the people crying out for justice. Her friends and neighbours had spent the last three days throwing up their picket signs and raising their voices to the sky.
To the rest of the town, Tito was nothing but another dead body on the pavement. They didn't care he was her friend.
oooo
"Alright, guys – you've had all week to prepare one song that reflects something that makes you angry. Who's up?"
The students exchanged bored glances. The aim of the theme was to relight some of the passion the club once contained, but no one was really too bothered.
Rather unexpectedly, Sam's hand shot up in the air. "Mr Shue, I'd like to go first, if you wouldn't mind."
Mr Shue raised his eyebrows, impressed. Sam rarely volunteered to sing solos, and it was a nice change. "Take the floor, Sam."
Sam threw his guitar around his neck and took a deep breath. "Well, as a lot of you know, the last year or so have been hell for my family. That's why I'd like to talk about a certain topic that, personally, makes my blood boil."
He cleared his throat.
"Illegals, those inoculated peoples, Illegals,
I called up the congress, to see what we could do,
They said for Spanish press 1, for English press 2
If they wanna live free without paying a tax,
We outta ship em over seas and bring our boys back.
We're overpopulated with undocumented people,
They work hard, bless their hearts, but they're still Illegals.
Illegals, those univited peoples, Illegals."
No one got a chance to hear the rest of the song, before Santana tackled him to the ground, one hand pinning him down by the throat.
"SANTANA!" Mr Shue roared, racing forward to pull the fired up Latina off Sam's helpless body. It was no use. Santana had entered her zone, and there was no going back.
"Sinvergüenza!" she cried, grabbing at clumps of blond hair, "Blanquito estúpido!"
By the time Finn and Puck had managed to pry her off Sam, she was trembling slightly, with tears of anger threatening to spill at the corners of her eyes.
"You don't know the first thing about illegals, you hear me?" she yelled at no one in particular. The room could do nothing but sit back stunned as Santana shrugged off her restrainers and stormed out of the room.
Mr Shue ran a hand through his hair. "Damnit, Sam! Is there nothing else you could have sung about? She's Puerto Rican for Christ's sake!"
Sam ducked his head, but his eyes were still glowing. "Of course she'd get fired up. Those spics are all the same."
The whole Glee club seemed to flinch.
"Sam," Mr Shue said in a lowered tone, "That's a highly offensive racial slur, and this club has a zero tolerance for discrimination of any kind."
"Whatever." Sam grabbed his bag over one shoulder and filed out into the corridor, leaving the choir room in perfect silence.
"Mr Shue, you don't know what's going on, do you?" Finn sighed, taking his seat once more.
Mr Shue shook his head, blankly.
"A Latino kid was shot dead last Tuesday," Finn continued.
"That's right. I heard it on WOHN."
"Well, over in Lima Heights, things have gotten pretty rough. Whites are getting jumped by Hispanics and vice versa. The place is in riots."
Mr Shue sunk down into his seat, his heart slowly sinking into the floor. "So, I'm guessing anger theme wasn't the best idea."
