Detective Grant worked tirelessly to coax kids of this neighbourhood into extracurricular activities. He set up tables with chessboards and a skateboarding area. Unfortunately, the gang wars had gone on for years and the animosity ran deep. He pleaded with parents, but some just shrugged, others stubbornly refused to forgive.
Grant had had enough.
The siren blared and people emerged, shocked. Grant was standing on the hood of his car, cradling the limp body of the boy shot dead that morning. Standing nearby, was his weeping mother.
“Is this what you want for your children? Is it?!” Grant bellowed. “Rise above your differences, don’t drag your kids into this endless war!”
The next day, a few sullen kids were dragged by anxious parents to the activity site. A month later, it was packed.
“Checkmate!” exclaimed the boy, looking triumphantly at Grant.
Grant pretended to scowl, then held out his hand, grinning.
“Good game, sir!” he said to the boy.
It took a while, but this neighbourhood turned out to be one of the best ones in town.