👮‍♀️ Awa’s Notebook

🟦 Chapter 1 – The Comment

Awa was 24. It was her first assignment in a station known for being “rough”.

On her third day, during an interrogation, a senior officer turned to a young Black teenager in custody and said:

“With a face like that, no wonder you ended up here.”

Silence. A nervous laugh. Eyes turning away.

Awa stood in the corner of the room, frozen. Her legs trembled.
She said nothing. She couldn’t. Not yet.

But that night, she opened her notebook and wrote down everything. Time. Place. Exact words.

🟦 Chapter 2 – The Notebook

Awa kept working. Professional. Calm. Precise.
But every time she heard a remark, an abuse, a humiliation… she took notes.

Not out of revenge.
But because she knew the day would come.

Because she believed in a slower kind of justice.
One that listens. One that remembers.

🟦 Chapter 3 – Years Go By

Awa rose through the ranks.
First brigadier. Then lieutenant.

She trained new recruits. Spoke about ethics, restraint, clarity in chaos.
Some colleagues respected her. Others whispered behind her back.

But she hadn’t forgotten.
She was just waiting—for her voice to carry weight.
To act without being erased.

🟦 Chapter 4 – The Report

One day, a citizen files an anonymous complaint.
Same suspect profile. Same officer. Same method.

Awa opens a file.
She adds transcribed notes, timestamps, names, video screenshots, and emails.
Then she files a formal report to internal affairs.

🟦 Chapter 5 – The Elevator and the Stairs

The officer is suspended. Then questioned.

Some try to protect him.
But Awa has facts. And more importantly: she waited until the walls couldn’t close in anymore.

One colleague says quietly:

“You just brought one of our own down.”

She answers:

“No. I brought down what stains our badge.”

🟦 Chapter 6 – The New Wall

Things change. Slowly.
New policies. Better training.
Some officers leave. Others adapt.

Awa stays.

In her office, on the wall, there’s a handwritten quote:

“Lies and injustice take the elevator.
But truth and justice, even if they take the stairs,
always reach the right floor.
And when they do…
they tear everything down—
and build it back, stronger.”

💡 Moral

Courage isn’t always loud.
Sometimes, it’s a quiet notebook.
A hand that writes when others stay silent.
A heart that waits—not to strike… but to be heard.