by Gwen Carr
It usually didn’t take more than five or ten seconds, but I learned to treasure that precious time before the questions began. For that brief moment, it felt like things were back to the way they were before. I was just a wife, mother, and MTA worker minding my own business and enjoying my smoggy city life. Once I was recognized, reality would come back like a sledgehammer. I was reminded of everything that happened, and each time it felt as raw and painful as the first. I didn’t like being forced to think about it again. I enjoyed those rare moments when I could conjure up other thoughts that would provide temporary relief from my reality.
With every interaction, I tried to put on a brave face, tried to remain stoic. I loved their stories, I really did, but the pain that accompanied them was torture. Getting used to not having Eric around felt unnatural, like a cruel joke. For a long time, I didn’t realize that I was still referring to him in the present tense. I would say things like “Yes, he’s a wonderful man” or “He is always doing things like that.” Sometimes I’d get a confused look, but most people were very understanding.
Sometimes I’d get introduced as Eric Garner’s mother, and then they would explain to the other person who he was and what had happened. That got to be very uncomfortable for me. I know they were just trying to give some context to the situation, but I did not need to hear the story over again. I had lived it. I was living it. I will always live it. That didn’t happen all the time, but it was more than I would have liked.
In our large, extended family, I had always been a surrogate mother to many of the children—nieces, nephews, cousins. It was just natural for me to take on a caregiver role with all the little ones. So it was interesting when the entire city saw me as “the mother” of Eric Garner. I was seen first as a mother and then as Gwen Carr, the person. To some that might seem odd, but to me it felt right, and I began to understand the power of that title. That’s where I’ve always felt comfortable, so to get that recognition locally, nationally, and then globally just reinforced the path I’d chosen in this world. Being seen as a good parent is the highest of honors, in my opinion.
My son’s funeral was held at Bethel Baptist Church, located on Bergen Street in the Boerum Hill area of Brooklyn. The church was built almost one hundred years ago and is a beautiful brick building. I wasn’t focused too much on the details, though, because it was a frenzy of activity. Reverend Al Sharpton and his National Action Network paid for the service and handled most of the logistics. It was a relief to know that they were managing everything and making sure the details were taken care of.
Our family was there in full force, taking up the first floor. There were folks from the Garner side and from the Flagg side. There were some from Davis and Jones—it was amazing to see so much support. That’s one thing about our large family: We have plenty of internal drama going on, like most folks, but we all pull together when times are tough. Having some of our people up from North Carolina and seeing a sea of coordinated T-shirts to identify family members made me feel better under the difficult circumstances.
The service felt different from others I’ve attended, mostly because of the obvious police presence outside. The atmosphere was a bit tense because of how Eric had been killed, and seeing those uniformed officers outside of my son’s service made me feel some type of way. I understood they wanted to make sure things didn’t get out of control, but I didn’t like the reminder of how my son had died standing right outside the door. It was a different story inside. There were so many people that they had to lock the doors to stop anyone else from entering. I had no idea there would be so many people, or I would have tried to get them to find an even larger facility. The families of two other victims of police-involved incidents, Amadou Diallo and Sean Bell, were there to show support.
Local advocates spoke out with initiatives, including suggesting that police need to video record all future encounters to help prevent this from happening again. Because the city had been so affected by the incident, everyone noticed the glaring absence of Mayor Bill de Blasio. Like so many politicians, he had been quick to denounce the brutality and promise a full investigation, but instead of showing up at my son’s funeral, he was off on a fancy trip with his own son while I was burying mine. To me, that wasn’t right. As mayor, when something horrible happens in your city, you change your plans and show up. That’s my opinion.
Despite that, the service was a moving tribute to everything Eric stood for. Reverend Al did his thing up there onstage, celebrating Eric and chastising the sheer brutality of the situation. That’s when he said, “You don’t need no training to stop choking a man saying, ‘I can’t breathe.’” I was pleasantly surprised when Mr. Sharpton brought Ramsey up onstage. He had been able to make it after all, and I was so glad that he did. I was told he’d been given some money to buy a suit, and I thought he looked very nice. In front of everyone, he was celebrated for standing up for justice and not running from the situation. I know that people say Al Sharpton has his faults, but the fact that he made sure Ramsey got there was wonderful. I was happy that the young man was getting the recognition because he deserved it. I gave him a big hug later and thanked him, once again, for all he had done.
Ellisha sang a beautiful song at the service, and many others spoke about how Eric had positively influenced their lives. It was amazing to see so many people, many who hadn’t even actually met my son, who came to show solidarity because this had happened in their community, on their street. It affected all of us and reminded us that we were tired of the way we have always been treated. As Reverend Sharpton said onstage when they talked about providing more police training, “You don’t need no training to stop choking a man saying, ‘I can’t breathe.’”
I watched most of the ceremony through tears as I kept getting reminded about how important Eric was to all of us. It was a hot summer night, and, with so many people packed inside, it was very warm, but I didn’t let that bother me. As I looked out over the rows of people, I watched the paper fans flutter like beautiful white doves mourning the tragic loss of such a beautiful life. I could hear some of the protesters outside shouting for justice. I understood their mission and the frustration they were feeling, so that didn’t bother me, either. They were very respectful and grew silent when the casket was carried outside and into the awaiting car.
Eric was dressed in a turquoise shirt and a white suit. There were beautiful flowers and an inscription that read “Beloved Brother.” I saw the terrible pain that his family was going through, and it tore me up. He had left behind his wife and children. We were all suffering, and there was no relief in sight. We each had to find our own way to deal with the heartache of loss.
While we were mourning the loss of Eric, changes were slowly taking place at city hall. Police officer Daniel Pantaleo, the man who had choked my son to death, was placed on “modified assignment” during the internal investigation that was supposed to be happening. However, he was still able to keep his badge, which didn’t seem right to me. The EMS workers who showed up at the scene and failed to perform emergency measures were suspended from work without pay.
William Bratton, the NYPD commissioner, said officers would be “retrained” on how to respond to calls. A lot of this trouble started because of what is referred to as “quality of life” patrols, in which officers routinely harass citizens with low-level offenses. This comes from what is called the “broken windows” strategy, which basically means heavily policing folks who are usually not actually breaking the law but have been known to be in trouble in the past. The line of thinking is that this type of policing will prevent further escalation, but that has never been proven. I did my research and found out that there has been no hard, irrefutable evidence that this method does anything other than harass and further exacerbate a nonviolent situation.
To me, this is yet another tactic that is used to mask the intimidation of poor Black folks by saying that it’s for the good of the community and that the residents and shop owners ha
ve asked for it. Eric was a frequent target of this “policy,” and that’s why in the video he kept saying they were always harassing him and he was tired of it. Can you imagine being accused of something you didn’t do and how frustrating that would be? Can you imagine being constantly confronted by the very people who are supposed to be protecting you? The NYPD doesn’t just work for the well-to-do; the police are supposed to be there for everyone. Eric deserved just as much respect as anyone else in the city, but, as we could all see in the video, he was treated like he didn’t matter, and like what he said meant nothing.
I think the most effective way to improve police effectiveness is through training, but not the usual “feel good” approaches that are typically implemented to appease angry citizens. The best way is to provide instruction on ways the police can build trust at the local level, in the communities, like neighborhood watch programs. When a community feels more engaged in policing their homes, they can work together to protect the entire neighborhood. When law enforcement officers work closely with the residents, they are much more likely to create a collaborative atmosphere of safety and security. Targeting specific citizens, and almost always Black males, and constantly harassing them under the guise that it will ultimately protect the community seems ineffective and cruel to me.
On Bay Street, just like in hundreds of neighborhoods across the city (and the country, for that matter), folks usually take it upon themselves to look out for each other. Thanks to those “broken windows” tactics, they have lost trust in police officers. Establishing two-way communication and building relationships with the people is how law enforcement could truly improve their image after all of the brutality cases; instead, they choose just the opposite.
Outreach and engagement programs that start with young people seem like they would be much more effective than harassing people just because they think it will prevent something worse from happening one day in the future. Working with the homeless population and engaging folks who are in the streets every day would give officers a better view of what is happening out there, and it would help others realize the police intentions are there to help, not to harass.
We are so socially aware and connected these days with cell phones and social media. The old tactics of brute force are no longer viable. We can see everything now. We teach our children how harmful and destructive bullying is, but then they see the exact same behavior from those who are paid by our tax dollars to protect us. It doesn’t make sense.
It would be much more effective to use those modern-day tools to their advantage, to create more outreach and immediacy with the people out in the community day in and day out. Police presence does not have to equate to intimidation. Learning how to be a part of the community would be a valuable way to build trust, instill pride, and show common human decency to those who need it the most.
I know there are no simple answers, but I do think change is possible. I always taught my children to respect law enforcement and to watch how they come across. Even after everything that has happened, I certainly don’t blame all officers for Eric’s death—just the opposite. I only want to see justice against those who actually participated in my son’s suffering and choking. They are the only ones at fault in my opinion.
The medical examiner declared Eric’s death a homicide and said that he died as the result of a chokehold. The report said my son died due to “compression of chest and prone positioning during physical restraint by police,” according to the medical examiner spokesperson. It has never been released—yet another mystery. We all knew that to be true because everyone saw it on the video, but it was satisfying to hear an expert announce it to the world. I thought that meant we would actually see justice served. The medical examiner said that the way Eric was restrained on the ground compressed his neck and chest. That harsh treatment, along with his asthma and weight, contributed to his death.
Then things started to go left. Patrick Lynch, the president of the Patrolmen’s Benevolent Association of New York, made a statement that the autopsy report was “political,” whatever that means, and also asserted that there was no chokehold. He also had the audacity to say that the way people are treated by the police has nothing to do with who they are or how they look. Unless you are a part of a minority or the disenfranchised and have walked in their shoes, you don’t know how they are treated. You might like to think everyone is treated fairly, but I can promise you that’s just not the case. We all make judgments based on appearance. That’s a fact of life. To say otherwise is just not true.
About a month after Eric was killed, the NYPD announced that it was conducting an investigation into the incident with the help of district attorneys and detectives. When it was announced that the case would go to the grand jury, we again had hope that we would get answers and that justice would be served.
As the investigation began to snake through the legal system, I was in the nail salon when a young lady came up to me. By now I was used to people approaching me from out of nowhere. Almost all of them were sympathetic and gracious, so I had grown accustomed to it.
“Hi, are you Mrs. Carr?” she asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“I’m Taisha. I was there that day.”
That’s all she had to say. “That day” had become shorthand for the day when my son was killed, choked to death. Calling it “that day” was a way for us to talk around it. We didn’t have to bring up the horrible details, except this time we did.
“I saw you when you came to Bay Street with Al Sharpton. I’ve also talked to your daughter, Ellisha. I took a video that day with my phone,” she told me. “I was in the beauty store when it happened. Ramsey and I were both filming, even though the cops tried to stop us.”
Ellisha had told me someone talked to her about another video, which didn’t surprise me since there had been a lot of people coming and going on “that day.” I didn’t focus on it too much at the time, because I never plan to watch the original video, much less another one, but the young lady seemed so sincere.
“Eric was so nice to everyone in the community,” she told me. “He was a big teddy bear. He would help anyone and everyone. He even helped a lady get off the drugs that were messing her up. He was very respected over there on Bay Street and at the park. He was a protector.”
I got a little misty eyed hearing that because it made me so proud of him, but it also made me realize just how much I missed him. I used to look forward to our chats on the phone and him dropping by to visit me when I got off work. The simple fact was that I missed my boy.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Carr, just be strong,” Taisha said. “I’m going to share the video and try to be a voice for the community.”
I thanked her for the kind words. Having the neighborhood, people I didn’t even know, come together like that really made me feel good. Plus, I liked the fact that they were doing things in Eric’s name. They were honoring him. He deserved that.
In the months that followed, I found out that things got difficult for Ramsey and Taisha. After that video went viral, Ramsey was known the world over, and not just by supporters but also by law enforcement. He started having a lot more run-ins with police after that incident, and that makes it seem like he has been targeted because he captured them in the act of brutalizing Eric. He said officers would allude to him being the one who made that video.
Ramsey’s home was raided in 2015, and he was arrested on a drug charge that resulted in him taking a plea deal. Even though he felt it wasn’t justified, he decided to do his time and then get out. He has received even worse treatment since he has been incarcerated, including being denied visitors and put in solitary confinement. He’s been moved from one facility to another, which has made access for his family and friends even more difficult, which certainly wasn’t coincidental, no matter what they say.
Even in jail he has been subjected to harsh treatment just because of who he is and what he did, which in my opinion was one of the bravest things anyone c
ould have done. To me, he is a hero, and I told him that myself. Once right after I first met him, when they hauled him into jail on some trumped-up charge, I went down and signed for him because I felt I owed him that much.
He never asked for any of this. He never wanted to be “famous.” He was just trying to help his friend. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him to watch that play out on the sidewalk right in front of him. Seeing the video (at least the parts I’ve seen) is horrible, so to actually have been there must have just been frightening. It’s just very frustrating for all of us when Brown and Black folks are treated with such cruelty. Handling police business is one thing, but to actually target, torture, and abuse someone merely because he didn’t back down is just wrong.
I would think that while the police didn’t like that it was one of their own in the spotlight, they would be supportive of someone who got involved and stood up for his beliefs. Too often the police complain that no one will cooperate, or no one will come forward. Well, Ramsey did come forward and he did speak up for the truth, and so did Taisha. That is exactly what I was talking about with police needing to learn how to develop trust and respect in the community.
For this book, I contacted Ramsey in prison and asked him what message about Eric he would share with others. He wrote:
I feel a lot more could have been done on all of our behalfs after his death which is why when I come home I will continue to seek and fight justice in his name.
Looking back on everything now and where I am at today just makes me stronger for my future. The feelings I have built up inside of me towards NYPD is of hate and resistance. Yet, it has given me the power to stand on both feet and fight, rather than to kneel and show weakness! Long live Eric Garner!