[center][hr][h1][i][color=Chartreuse]Suspect 2.[/color][/i][/h1][hr][/center]


"Yeah, yeeah, I know, I don't want to miss the big music festival either." The woman (Who we'll refer to as [color=Chartreuse]Suspect 2[/color]) said into her phone. With her Jamaican accent obviously apparent. She was leaning up against the door of her taxi - watching the city go by. "Cops want to talk to me - I never did anything! I just make music, that's all. Why would I jeopardize that?"

She sounded worried. And she wondered why, of all people, the police thought she had something to do with what's going on. She was just a 5'4 Jamaican woman. What crimes would they think she'd commit? Ugh! It was just bloody racists. In their eyes, if you aren't white, then you aren't innocent. 

"Yeah, yeah, but I'll head to the Police Station and sort all of this out - Oh! It's coming up now." Tanya said as the taxi pulled into a spot right in front of a police station. The Cab Driver's counter was around sixty dollars... figured. Tanya rolled her eyes up into her head. Tanya reached into her purse, and pulled out three twenties, and handed it to the cab driver. Before giving him a smile, and a playful nod, before stepping out of the car, and onto the sidewalk. The car pulled off, and Tanya inhaled, then exhaled. 

The police station looked a lot more intimidating now. Though, long as she kept a happy face on, she'd get out of this all right. Tanya heaved her guitar over her shoulder, and walked up to the building.