A story from my childhood...
A woman and a police officer once knocked on my door, and my dad answered.
My dad is white.
The woman said, "Your son hit my son because he's black!"
My mom walks up to the door and says, "EXCUSE ME?"
My mom is a dark skinned Hawaiian Filipino, about the same tone as the other woman.
The woman tried to pull the minority / hate crime excuse, and that backfired.
The woman looked at her, then said, "Your son hit my son because he wears glasses!"
I walked up to the door.
Wearing my glasses.
The woman tried to pull another hate crime excuse, and that backfired.
The woman saw my glasses.
The officer was smiling, because he knew the woman was just making up stories.
What really happened?
I beat up her son because he was kicking my little sister.
I walked away from the fight, and he charged after me.
So I beat him up twice.
I was about to break his arm, but my cousin convinced me to walk away again.
Morale of the story is...
You may tell us one story, but that story may not be anywhere near the truth.
We have no way of knowing what happened with no evidence provided.
You may give us the story you want to tell us.
But more often than not, when given the evidence for your punishment, it backfires.