Excessive Use of Force

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Excessive Use of Force Page 23

by Loretta P. Prater


  I wasn’t the only person who testified at the forum. Another parent confronted CALEA’s team. The father of a man fatally shot multiple times by Chattanooga police the previous July asked investigators to consider whether police follow proper procedures and are properly trained. He further stated that some residents felt oppressed and that the police were out to kill or control them. I felt that the few residents who praised the police were carefully selected to appear before the team. For example, one man was a part of a community patrol program in concert with the police department. Other testimonials of praise were from the sheriff of Hamilton County and other public officials. When the reaccreditation process was completed, apparently the team dismissed the statements made by me and the other parent. The department was reaccredited and praised as Chattanooga’s finest. That outcome was a signal of empowerment to continue business as usual. The team chairperson had stated, “The accreditation process makes you do what you’re supposed to be doing.”

  The Unity Group sponsored its annual Martin Luther King Jr. community-wide birthday celebration on January 17, 2012. The Rev. Dr. Paul McDaniel was selected as the speaker. If you recall, he was our pastor and the spiritual leader who accompanied our family to the first meeting with the Chattanooga Police Department. I did not attend the event, but I was sent a video copy of the proceedings. As a former county commissioner, he was very familiar with situations of concern in Chattanooga, especially as related to racial divisions. He spoke about an array of situations in which improvement was needed. He talked about Leslie, whom he knew personally. He stated that the city would not have paid more than $1 million to a black family if there had not been a sense of guilt. Considering the mixed audience, including law enforcement officials, I thought it took a lot of courage for him to make that statement. During his speech, he did announce that he had nothing to lose by saying what he felt was needed. Political correctness did not guide his remarks. I was very touched that, eight years after Leslie’s homicide, he was still speaking about police brutality.

  Concerned Citizens for Justice (CCJ), a social justice advocacy initiative in Chattanooga, invited me to attend a meeting on June 25, 2013. The private discussion was hosted by the police chief, Bobby Dodd, and was by invitation only. The meeting’s purpose was to listen to the concerns of CCJ, based on numerous complaints of police brutality from persons living in neighborhoods heavily populated with African Americans.

  Ash-Lee Henderson, the leader of CCJ, contacted me and asked if I would attend the meeting with her and Jannelle, another devoted CCJ member. The chief had given her permission to bring a few people with her. He insisted on keeping the number small but did not specify the identity of those persons. I consented and traveled to Chattanooga to attend the meeting. The chief had not anticipated my attendance. When he walked into the room and recognized me as one of the people sitting around the conference table, he appeared shocked. He and I were not on good terms, because he would not allow me to continue the sensitivity training at the police academy.

  The chief had carefully orchestrated the meeting, or so he thought. His assistant chiefs were present, as well as representatives from the mayor’s office. He came prepared with his data, such as the number of arrests in certain urban neighborhoods and the nature of the criminal offenses. He had anticipated the concerns that CCJ would bring forward, because those had been publicly voiced over a period of time. The citizen complaints were mostly clustered around racial profiling, physical assaults, and unlawful arrests by police officers. It was clear that there was little or no trust or respect of police officers who patrolled the neighborhoods discussed. Contrary to the expectations of the chief, CCJ representatives also came prepared with information to counter the police chief’s data.

  CCJ members and I had discussed our planned approach. Ash-Lee would take the lead as CCJ’s primary spokesperson. She had a lot of knowledge about misconduct of police in Chattanooga and had been involved in social advocacy for many years. Jannelle and I would contribute as needed and as deemed appropriate at the time. Actually, my role was closer to that of a volunteer CCJ consultant, since I did not live in Chattanooga and charged no fee for my service. I think the very fact that I was a surprise guest seemed to upset the chief, because he had no idea what I might say. I know that he didn’t like the fact that I was present because he made a comment that Ash-Lee had brought haters of police to the meeting. Calmly, I reacted by stating that if he was referring to me, I did not hate the police, but I was opposed to injustice. Jannelle also reacted to the chief’s statement and blatantly responded that she did dislike the police. She shared some of the reasons why she felt that way, including some personal knowledge of police misconduct. Jannelle, a professional with a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice, also countered when the chief talked badly about people committing crimes in mostly African American neighborhoods. She shared that she lived in a predominately white neighborhood. There were white people committing crimes in that neighborhood, but rarely were there police patrols or people arrested. In the predominately black neighborhoods discussed, residents had complained to CCJ that police occupied those areas and frequently profiled and harassed residents. I guess that was Chattanooga’s version of community policing.

  When the question of the low number of minorities on the police force was asked, again, Chief Dodd referred to his data. He talked about the number of African Americans who had been considered but disqualified when the background check revealed a felony. As usual, it seemed to me that he was always prepared with negative comments about African Americans. I felt that he was implying that African Americans were mostly criminals and unqualified to serve among Chattanooga’s finest. I was sitting there thinking, “What about the police officers already on the force who commit felonies but are not convicted because they are already police officers? What about African Americans wrongly convicted of felonies?” My feeling is that there are many African Americans with no felonies who would never consider law enforcement as a career. Why is that?

  At the end of the meeting, I didn’t sense that there were any bridges built. The wall between the police department and CCJ constituents remained. I suppose the chief could report to the mayor that he did have the meeting. The mayor could make a politically correct statement that the police department is reaching out to the community. It is clear that the “city fathers” don’t want any race riots scaring off the downtown tourists, which I believe was the hidden agenda. The meeting was cordial, but I didn’t feel that any opinions were changed or any progress was made. We listened and commented and they listened and commented. And that was all.

  I accepted an invitation to present in a class at Fontbonne University in St. Louis on February 18, 2015. The class focused on racial issues and social inequities, past and present. Dr. Corinne Wohlford, a brave professor, developed the course in response to the situation in Ferguson after the death of Michael Brown. I identify her as brave because I had read hateful comments printed in an editorial page of the St. Louis Post Dispatch in response to her announcing the intention to develop such a course. The audience included students of varying ages and different racial backgrounds, as well as other guests from the university and lay community. I invited attendees associated with the Missouri Foundation for Health (MFH), an initiative focused on improving the health of Missourians through partnership, experience, knowledge, and funding. Currently, I serve as the chairperson of MFH’s Community Advisory Council.

  Dr. Wohlford allowed me to use the entire two and one half hours of class time. I provided a research overview of police brutality during the first hour, followed by a fifteen-minute break. The remainder of the class time was for an informal discussion to present a case study, our family’s experience with police brutality and Leslie’s death. I showed a brief video about Leslie and then I joined class members, who were already seated around a long rectangular table. I sat and talked with them, not as a researcher, but as a mother. At the en
d of the class, several students approached me and offered condolences and voiced appreciation for my visit; a few asked permission to hug me; and some approached me in tears.

  As a capstone project, students presented a journal to the faculty member. This activity was part of the requirements for the class. The faculty member wrote an e-mail to me regarding the last entry of one student. She wrote, “I am usually not brought to tears, but tears flowed as I read the entry. If I would ever question whether or not I need to continue to do these presentations, all I need is to recall the words of that young man. It meant so much to me that ‘he got it.’”

  The faculty member shared the student’s entry and she agreed that I could include some of his reflections in this book. This young white man, probably in his early twenties, was from a rural community in Missouri. Prior to enrolling in college, he had little to no direct exposure to black people. There were no black people in his K–12 classes and no black people living in his community. In his writings, he shared that he grew up thinking that there were no more problems with race, other than sentiments of the KKK and white supremacists. He admitted that one of his uncles was extremely racist and other family members were blatantly racist. They stereotyped black people as criminals and without good family values. According to this student, “When I was able to drive to St. Louis, I was told to never go past Delmar or into any part of North County.” Family and friends told him that there was a difference between someone who is black and someone who is the n-word. He even began to use the n-word. As he continued his writings, he did take responsibility for his accepting those racial stereotypes as factual. He noted that the class had an impact on his thinking and he thanked the professor for that. He stated, “I can already see big differences in the way I think about race.”

  Additional excerpts from his journal are as follows:

  When I first heard about Ferguson, it was from a friend who said something along the lines of “Did you hear about all the crazy stuff going on up in Ferguson?” I was shown a few videos of the folks who were looting and burning the QuikTrip. So I figured here we go, a bunch of black people who were angry and taking it out on hard working folks and their businesses. To me this reinforced stereotypes of black people as criminals and, from that point, I thought any protest was basically a riot. Then I walked into your class and it was the very first time that I was of the minority in a classroom. Even after reading “The New Jim Crow,” I found myself right back where I started in November the night of the Wilson decision. I even made some racial remarks about welfare checks and telling black people to go get a job, but something ended up being different about this class.

  I think the first huge thing for me was when Mrs. Prater came in. Actually hearing a woman teaching a lesson about how her child was killed; I just could not believe it. I could not even imagine my own mother, who is very strong, being able to go through that and talk about it the way Mrs. Prater did. I think I listened more and really began to question and look at some of the systems that were in place. It always seemed like whatever particular thing we talked about in class, like how racially segregated St. Louis is or being able to see how colorblind policies effected the amount of black people that were in jail, would pop up in my life outside of this class. I also really began to see all of the stereotypes of black folks being talked about where I live. It began to be a really eye opening experience for me. I realized that these people did not know what they were talking about, but I couldn’t blame them because they did not have the knowledge that I was obtaining through this course.

  On June 12, 2015, I responded to an opinion article posted in Chattanoogan.com. The article gave examples of police officers who were compassionate and performed deeds determined to be heroic. I know there are officers who fit that profile. I know some of them, so I am aware that they do exist. My concern was that the author did not mention that there were police officers whose behavior was more criminal than heroic.

  In my response, I discussed examples of cases where police officers were not compassionate. In fact, their actions killed unarmed residents and violated their constitutional rights. I mentioned that sensitivity workshops are needed, similar to the ones I was no longer allowed to teach in Chattanooga. I also challenged citizens to question the amount of their taxpayer dollars applied to defend police officers and settle lawsuits. That money, whatever the amount, could have been used in addressing social service needs.

  In the closing paragraph, I asserted that the author of the original opinion piece was writing from his knowledge and experience, and I was writing from mine. I added that I was familiar with criminal justice/policing research, which documents numerous accounts of police misconduct. Many people are dead today because the “good cops” did not respond to the call. I ended by stating:

  I think the world will be a better place if we are ever a post racial society. Unfortunately, we are not there yet. The variable of hatred is alive and well. As the words of a familiar song recount, “What the World Needs Now Is Love, Sweet Love.”

  I wrote a “mother-to-mother” letter to Lezley McSpadden on June 8, 2016. There is a level of understanding that precludes our having to explain our pain. I feel that Lezley, other mothers in similar situations, and I could provide strength to each other and work toward awakening more people to the reality of a failed justice system. I live two hours south of St. Louis, but Lezley and I did not meet until July 2, 2016, in New Orleans. Dwight and I attended the Essence Festival and attended Lezley’s book signing for Tell the Truth and Shame the Devil: The Life, Legacy, and Love of My Son Michael Brown. Although I had already purchased and read her book, Dwight and I bought another copy and attended the signing. Instructions were to write your name on a piece of paper provided and hand it to her when you approached the table. When I handed her the paper with my name, she immediately recognized it. She got out of her seat and ran around the table and we embraced. Our instant communication was without words. We didn’t need words, because our common pain spoke loudly. I felt as though I knew her in so many other ways, because of reading her memoir. Lezley is much younger than my children, and it seemed as though I was hugging that sweet little girl, with the red suitcase, described in her book. We took a picture together and she invited me to attend her next “Rainbow of Mothers” event in St. Louis.

  On August 7, 2016, I attended the “Rainbow of Mothers Gala” facilitated by Lezley. The mothers present had a common bond, that of grieving the loss of a child, although there were varying causes of death. I identified more closely with the mothers who had lost children from violence, especially in cases where police officers were the perpetrators and there was no accountability for those homicides. In addition to mothers, other family members, and friends, there were community advocates in attendance. I invited my cousin Dot to attend with me. Her son and my dear cousin Anthony Winton had died within a year of this event. Although his death was nonviolent, Dot’s grief was still very real and fresh. Some names of deceased children, their mothers, and most participants were unknown to me. Others were recognizable, because of media attention to their cases. In addition to Lezley, the mothers of Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Sandra Bland, Sean Bell, and Oscar Grant attended. Also, Rev. Al Sharpton and Congresswoman Maxine Waters were there and each gave a compassionate address. In general, I felt a spiritual connection to all of the grieving mothers. It was as though we were in a room filled with people who understood our sorrow, and provided unconditional support.

  I spoke on November 29, 2016, to members of Alpha Phi Sigma, the Criminal Justice Honor Society chapter at Southeast Missouri State University. I was invited by Dr. Raleigh Blasdell, an associate professor in the Department of Criminal Justice and Sociology. My presentation focused on the circumstances and aftermath of Leslie’s death and our family’s interaction with the Chattanooga Police Department during the process of the wrongful death lawsuit. I was pleased to have the opportunity to speak with potential professi
onals, who will have influence within the law enforcement community.

  I was featured on the front page of the Southeast Missourian newspaper on November 30, 2016. The article “Pain in Our Eyes” was the result of an earlier interview of me and others regarding Leslie’s death, the related investigation, and the subsequent lawsuit. The subheading was “Cape Girardeau Woman Says She Hopes Her Son’s Death Will Lead to Better Policing.” There was also a video developed, which was featured on semissourian.com.11

  I accepted an invitation from Dr. Corinne Wohlford to return to Fontbonne University on February 14, 2017, to present another lecture. I titled the presentation, “My Experience with the Two Faces of Policing: Before and After January 2, 2004.” I feel it is my responsibility to continue telling the “behind-the-scenes” story of a family that experienced the homicide of an unarmed loved one resulting from police brutality.

  Mother Teresa said, “I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.” I have cast many stones and will continue to do so. I have cast enough stones to build a fortress, but am only sharing a sampling with you. Actually, I consider my various interventions as seeds. I keep planting seeds in the hope that some will germinate and grow. I will continue to reach out to others for help. I am facing the biggest challenge of my life, that of seeking social justice for victims of police misconduct. Even more of a challenge is to increase sensitivity to the fact that a problem exists that will impact public policy. Like so many other family members of these tragedies, this fight found me. I didn’t go seeking trouble, but I must not and cannot remain silent. Families and supporters of other victims have also created ripples. We must unite and continue to resist injustice using peaceful strategies, without violence. I am inspired by the words of Mohandas Gandhi: “A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.”

 

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