Nine-year-old Quan deciding to run away from home, covered in his own tears and struggling to cope with the realities of his home life. Quan deals with unhealthy adult dynamics in his life, or what he calls “grown-people problems he can’t fix” (16). His father is the most stable adult in his life, and even he makes his living by selling drugs, which later results in a traumatic, violent arrest that Quan is forced to witness. Quan’s mother is in an abusive relationship that leaves her covered in “bluey-purple blotches” that make her look like she has been hit with “water balloons full of paint” (17). Quan is also targeted during these outbursts, and he feels helpless to stop his mother’s boyfriend, Dwight.
From a young age, Quan has only seen two versions of what a man can be: a good person who takes the risk of partaking in illegal activities in order to provide for his family (Daddy), or a bad person who hurts those around him (Dwight). His mother is often portrayed as impatient, angry, and sometimes negligent of her children. Quan’s needs are not met in this environment because he does not always feel safe or provided for.
Quan’s family lives on the verge of poverty, especially after Daddy goes to jail. Quan’s mother is unable to hold a steady job because of her injuries sustained from her boyfriend’s wrath, and although she qualifies for government assistance, there are still times when the family goes hungry. Quan, who feels responsible for being the one to protect his family, takes the risk and begins stealing to feed his family. Quan also takes on the duty of getting his brother and sister to school every morning when his mother isn’t “feeling too hot” as a result of her boyfriend’s beatings (46). The fact that Dwight is even allowed to stay in the house all boils down to money (or rather, lack thereof). Quan is forced to take on an inappropriate amount of responsibility and is traumatized by his unstable home life.
Witnessing his father’s arrest is a particularly traumatic experience for Quan, and it shapes his interaction with the criminal justice and law enforcement systems. Quan is ripped from his father’s house in the dead of night, surrounded by “police cars” and “barking dogs” and “a helicopter circling overhead” (29). He is handled roughly by police officers who yank him so hard that “his arm was suddenly wrenched in a direction he was sure it wasn’t supposed to go” (27). He then watches as his father—the only somewhat stable adult in his life—is hit over the head so hard that “Daddy’s whole body went limp” (30). Quan wets his pants with terror, and years later when he is arrested for the first time, he wets his pants again. Quan associates law enforcement with fear, abuse, and loss of control. He is traumatized not only by the loss of his father to the prison system, but also by the feeling that he cannot trust anyone in law enforcement.
The trauma of Quan’s childhood also opens him up to emotional and mental health issues. Quan has difficulty processing heavy feelings, as evidenced by his frequent panic attacks and hesitation to open up and trust people. Quan’s complicated history and behavior leads his counselor to diagnose him with post-traumatic stress disorder. When it comes to his own interrogation and the coerced confession, he is so triggered by the trauma of that night (and his previous traumatic events as a child) that he shuts down any time the confession is brought up. By the end of the novel, he is finally on the road to healing, although this trauma will likely have lasting effects.
In Quan’s first letter to Justyce, he explains that he felt “doomed” the moment his father was arrested. Throughout the novel, Quan wrestles with the concept of fate versus free will, especially as he tries to puzzle through how he ended up in prison. At times, Quan tends to favor the theory of fate: When he thinks back on his life, he “[doesn’t] really see where there was a different path for a dude like [him]” (156). However, he also recognizes that he made mistakes, such as when he calls himself “a dumb kid who made a bunch of dumb decisions” (266). Quan feels conflicted: He wants to take responsibility for the poor choices he made (just like Daddy always taught him to), but he also wants to acknowledge that some things were simply outside of his control.
Quan tries to “stay focused” after his father is arrested. He believes that if he tries his best to take care of his brother and sister, do well in school, and be a good person, he will gain some sense of control in his life. Unfortunately, after the math test incident, Quan realizes, “It [doesn’t] matter what he [does]. Staying focused didn’t give Quan any control at all” (52). Quan begins to give up trying to do his best and, in his own mind, surrenders his life to fate.
Quan considers it “fate” that he met Trey in the police station and feels like he was “destined” to fall in with the Black Jihad. For someone like Quan who has struggled for control of his life, this shift indicates his growing apathy and hopelessness. However, when Quan writes his final letter to his father, he blames himself and not destiny for the outcome of his life. He makes no excuses to his father but admits that he felt like he let him down. Quan knows that he disappointed his father but concludes by saying that Daddy’s letters “reminded [Quan] of [Quan’s] power” (156). Quan associates his father with feelings of responsibility and ownership, and although Quan knows that certain things might happen that are outside of his control, he will no longer allow his life to passively happen around him. Quan accepts responsibility for his choices while acknowledging that other forces (such as systemic racism) have played a role as well. Quan has spent most of his life grappling for some sense of control, and now he acknowledges that he will always have to face these “inevitable” circumstances.
When Quan makes the decision to talk about the night of the shooting and the coerced confession, he opens a door that eventually leads to his acquittal. Quan learns that he has more power than he gives himself credit for, and although he required some help to get there, he was the one who got the wheels turning to start his new life. Quan is empowered, hopeful, and ready to take responsibility for his own life.
Time and time again, Quan thinks back to the lack of positive role models he had in his life. In his letters to Justyce, he admits that “[Doc] has really grown on me. It’s too bad I didn’t meet him sooner” (91). Quan recognizes the power of positive role models in the lives of children; in fact, Quan himself has strived to be a good role model for Dasia and Gabe. He wanted them to see him do well in school, and he tried to stay out of trouble so they would follow suit. When Quan thinks back to his father’s arrest, he uses the word “doomed”: After Daddy was arrested, Quan felt like he lost the only adult that made him feel safe and loved, and from that moment on, Quan was searching for a similar feeling of love and acceptance. This is what breaks his heart when Mama believes he cheated on his math test: His own mother didn’t believe that he was capable of being successful on his own. Quan convinces himself that if his own mother can’t see the good in him, no one else will.
This mentality makes Quan an easy target for Trey, Martel, and the Black Jihad to come into his life and exert their control. Quan is so eager for love and acceptance (especially from older boys or men who share a similar background with him) that his small crimes quickly escalate, and before Quan knows it, he’s in over his head and has lost all control of his life. In prison, Quan finds a mentor in Doc and tells Justyce “There’s a good chance that if [the Black Jihad members] had the kinda support you had—dudes like Doc, for instance, who told us we could really do and be something, and who believed it—none of us woulda been at Tel’s [the night of the shooting]” (160). Quan always knew that Martel wasn’t the best influence, but at the time, he was the Black adult man who seemed to understand Quan’s anger and loneliness. However, once Doc comes along, Quan can suddenly see how his life might have turned out differently if he had had better influences in his life encouraging him and believing in him. Doc gets on Quan’s nerves sometimes and forces him to think outside of the box, but Quan grows to love Doc’s mentorship and guidance.
Similarly, Quan bonds to Justyce and admits that he always looked up to him. At first, Quan seems to be jealous of Justyce, much like he is jealous of his cousin Manny. However, Quan starts to consider Justyce a role model to emulate. Quan believes that “if [Quan] could be just like [Justyce], [Quan’s] dad would be proud of [him]” (41). Quan is fascinated by how similar he and Justyce are: They are from the same neighborhood, and both come from difficult home lives. They are both exceptionally intelligent and (for a time) both work hard in school. Both boys are compassionate, driven, and sensitive. The only difference Quan notices is the amount of support Justyce had in his life compared to Quan: Justyce had mentorship, whereas Quan did not.
Doc, Justyce, Tay, Liberty, and Attorney Friedman all play a role in building Quan up and giving him the support that he was lacking previously in his life. With their love and dedication to helping him, Quan’s future becomes every bit as promising and hopeful as Justyce’s.
Dear Justyce tackles the complex issue of systemic racism and bias in the justice system. Like Justyce in Dear Martin, Quan did not take much notice of these problems until they became his reality. Quan notices that he is treated differently as a young Black boy when he is 12 years old. A substitute teacher accuses him of cheating, and librarians treat him like he is up to something. Quan also notices that his first arrest seemed excessive: “It was just a deck of cards!” (81).
For Quan, however, the real bias in the system comes to light when he spends 12 months in juvenile detention and sees “White Boy Shawn” get a significantly lighter sentence for committing a violent crime. Quan watches as “the number of brown faces that came and stayed” vastly outnumber the “not-brown ones that came and left” in the juvenile detention facility (102). Anger at this injustice begins to grow in Quan, and this anger is what pushes him to Martel, who confirms Quan’s suspicions: The system is against Black boys like Quan as well as most people of color. Quan, who already struggles with feeling no control of his own life, knows he cannot control his skin color. It feels like another way in which he is “doomed.”
Quan and Martel are not the only ones who acknowledge the bias in this system and the need for change. Jared, a white boy, has a run-in with the law of his own. SJ gives him a thorough tongue-lashing, pointing out, “If Justyce—or any other African American!—had done what [Jared] did, they’d be in jail. Hell, [Justyce] might even be dead!... Did they even put you in cuffs?” (175). Jared drove drunk and attempted to run from the police but received no significant punishment, even though he was an adult. In contrast, Quan received 12 months of juvenile detention for stealing a cell phone. Jared doesn’t argue with SJ and confesses that she is right. Later, Attorney Friedman is concerned that “implicit bias is likely to come into play” if she tries to put “African American males between sixteen and twenty” on the witness stand (203). Attorney Friedman is aware that jurors do not trust the word of young Black men and that the system is inherently stacked against Quan and boys who look like him.
This bias is made even more obvious on the night of the shooting when Officer Castillo refuses to lower his weapon, even after his partner orders him to. Castillo looks at the Black men around him and states that he “know[s] what guys like these are capable of” (152). Someone shoots Castillo not because he is a police officer, but because he was behaving in an unsafe manner and the members of the Black Jihad feared for their lives. Because of Castillo’s bias, he lost his life in a tragic standoff that could have been resolved peacefully. This is not Castillo’s first time racially profiling (as readers of Dear Martin will recognize), and his hateful and irresponsible behavior finally caught up to him and led to his demise.
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By Nic Stone