On January 7, 2026, Renée Good sat in her car on a Minneapolis street. She was an observer—a mother, a poet, a woman who showed up because she believed showing up mattered. Federal agents surrounded her vehicle. One told her to get out of the car. Another told her to drive away. Conflicting orders. Chaos by design or incompetence—it doesn't matter now. What matters is what she said. Facing the agent who would kill her seconds later, Renée Good looked at him and said, "That's fine, dude. I'm not mad at you." Then he shot her three times. After she was dead, still recording on his phone, he said, "Fucking bitch." I've watched that video more than once. I can't stop thinking about the distance between those two voices. Hers: calm, human, offering peace in a moment of terror. His: emptied of everything but contempt. How does a person get there? — I believe we all carry a core soul force—two elements braided together, and one of th...