My brother John was murdered by a police officer 12 years ago in Providence, RI. John was born my cousin but my mother always made sure we referred to each other as brothers. He was childlike in his way of looking at the world and from an early age always seemed to be the kid that got caught and blamed even if he was not the one doing something wrong. he was not a thug or tough guy but a talented athlete who lost his parents and after an accident lost a sports scholarship and lost his direction. Some of his life was not easy. Some of his decisions were not good. The taking of his life was not just. This week I sat across from my mother and spoke about John and how it seems impossible that another holiday season is here and he is not with us. It is amazing how tragedy can alter the fabric of a family. John was not always innocent. I am not someone who believes that the police are always wrong and the victim always right. I understand a society needs some order. Some rules and someone to enforce them. I understand that the work of a police officer is not easy. I understand that not every young man in a hoodie is a criminal and not every cop is a killer. I also know on the day John was killed by a plain clothes officer that fact and fiction were blurred and lies brought forward by the people in power that were supposed to serve and protect. The truth has not been told. The people involved are liars. The tale of a cop defending themselves against imminent danger is delivered to us again and again and we are asked to allow it. To swallow it. To let it satiate our hunger for the truth when it is nothing but emptiness. To overlook bullet wounds through surrendering hands and gunshots fired without justification. John was delivered to us with unexplained cuts, bruises and broken bones. Beaten beyond the trauma of a fight and bruised beyond anything that could have been caused the way they described. Hidden from us under the guise of paperwork and propped up and prepared in a funeral home before we could ever see him or see some truth. Justice was not on our side at that time and we did what we needed to do just to get by. I wonder now 12 years later if things would be different. If cameras might have captured something or a social media might have stepped behind us when the traditional media outlets did not. I wonder if Johns Thug Life and illustrated gun tattoos might be viewed differently in an age where ink is so common. I wonder if changes in laws might have prevented him from always finding and falling in with the wrong crowd and always end up the one who was caught. I wonder if the people and woman I hold responsible are sitting up tonight mourning him as my family does or remembering things in a different way. It is 6 am in Berlin where I sit typing this as I watch live streaming news on NY1 from my city and country. I can not stop the tears from flowing as I wonder how many other families are missing and mourning a loved one tonight. I mourn for John tonight. I mourn for Michael Brown tonight. Not the boys they were but the men they might have become. With John...I wonder what he would have been like as a father and how his life would be now deep into his thirties. I wonder where his life would have taken him and what he might have added into the world if he had been allowed to live. I wonder how different life would be if all of our young men stolen from us by shots fired in fear and ignorance and aggression had been allowed to live. I wonder what we would look like if guns were not easier to buy than books and racism was not rearing its ugly head so often that we do not even recognize it even when it is directed at our President. I wonder how a gun lobby and republican ruled governing body and biased news media will spin this tragedy and what white pulpits will preach this week of giving thanks. I wonder how FOX news will somehow blame Obama for all of this. I wonder how the mothers of black sons will sleep through this night. I wonder how those cops, jury members, blood covered politicians can possibly hold their head up at this time. I wonder if our gun laws, drug laws, prison systems, education systems will ever be reformed. I wonder how St, Louis can keep moving forward. As I sit here typing I am just trying to make sense this morning...this mourning. We will all share images of Martin Luther King and come together on one side or the other of this tragedy. We will all read posts on Facebook and shake our heads at the stupid things people we thought knew better share and show their foolishness. We will find others inspire us to move forward. We will watch the news and try to find those truths among the spin and drama required to fuel a 24 hour news cycle. We will look to our leaders and our loved ones for comfort and seek out our answers in our own ways. I know tonight I am missing my city and home but struggling to see the pride of the red, white and blue when the Browns are mourning their dead son. Tonight a mother sits in St. Louis knowing that justice was not served. Tonight I sit here missing my family and sharing on Facebook because I have no other way to express these thoughts. Tonight I sit here hoping that my nieces and Godchildren can enjoy a world without this fear and that my Godson might experience a different reality than these times. It is 6 am and tonight...this morning...this moment...I will crawl in bed next to my sleeping man and hold him close and know how lucky I am to have been born with privilege and given opportunity that can never be dismissed and be grateful that I have the family and friends and life I do. Tomorrow i will try to make more sense and give thanks for everything again.
Posted on: Tue, 25 Nov 2014 05:30:36 +0000
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