Excessive Use of Force

by Loretta P. Prater

  8

  MOMS (Mothers of Murdered Sons)

  Unarmed and Killed by Law Enforcement

  In the prologue, I mentioned the special relationship between mothers and sons. In this chapter, I want to highlight that bond, although a couple of mother-daughter dyads are included. The mothers discussed in this chapter share a bond not only with their children but also with each other through the tragedy of their child’s death. Unfortunately, our tragedies are not so uncommon anymore. Technology has uncovered the ugliness of police misbehavior. Most of the mothers featured in this chapter were not interviewed on the national news, but they do share similarities with mothers whose names may be familiar to you. Most of their unarmed sons were killed by police officers, whether or not there was any admission of guilt, a conviction, or imprisonment. Although no two circumstances were exactly the same, the outcomes were the same. Their child is dead, and without just cause.

  Emma Jones was the first mother I spoke to who truly understood the depth of a mother’s trauma and grief after her child is killed by law enforcement. The sudden death of a child from any circumstance is a shock. I would never dismiss that fact, but the unanticipated repercussions of how families are treated by police departments only add to the devastation. In memory of her son, Emma started the MALIK Organization to support others who had children killed by police officers. I told Emma the details of what had happened to Leslie. In the following, I paraphrase the first of many conversations I had with her, based on the notes I took. This is what Emma said to me:

  I did not have the opportunity to grieve. At the hospital, I was traumatized and screaming out for someone to help me. I couldn’t begin to conceptualize what had happened. I didn’t talk to the press or any media until July. Beginning in July, I contacted individuals within the state to come and help me to make a plan of action. Representatives from various racial and ethnic organizations came. As an attorney, I knew how the criminal justice system worked, and how politics worked. I talked to prosecutors. It was hard to find attorneys who knew the situation. Usually, attorneys only look at civil lawsuits. I wanted an attorney to fight for civil rights. I held a press conference to call for an independent investigation. Subsequently, I asked for the justice department to investigate. The department responded that they didn’t have enough evidence to show that a crime was committed. They suggested that I write letters to the Department of Justice to express my concerns as a mother.

  You need to be very strategic about how you handle their questions. Frame the issue and keep with the issue. Stick to the facts that four police officers used excessive force that was unreasonable and unnecessary. Leslie’s constitutional rights were violated, they caused his death, and you want answers and justice. It is important to not argue with them, but write a fact sheet and begin distributing it right away. Your son was brutalized and he was positioned so that he could not breathe. Pound on the issue of what they did to him. While he was unarmed, handcuffed, and lying facedown on the ground, police officers had knees in his back. Someone should be held accountable. You need to go after these officers professionally and personally. You need to get justice for your son and end the double standard of justice for police officers. There should be a thorough investigation, and they should be relieved from duty pending the outcome of the investigation. There should be objectivity in the investigation and a request to stop using excessive force. Request that criminal charges be brought against all of the officers that were involved in this egregious behavior.

  From 1997 to 2017, there have been many twists and turns to Emma’s fight for justice. She first initiated a federal wrongful death lawsuit against East Haven, Connecticut, its police department, and the officer who killed Malik. All officers in that department were white. The accused officer was cleared of any wrongdoing. He never demonstrated any remorse. In 2003, the civil court jury ruled in Emma’s favor. The ruling included a Monell claim, which is difficult to win. The Monell claim suggests that there was a violation of civil rights.1 The jury awarded her $1.7 million for attorney fees and $2.5 million for punitive damages. East New Haven appealed, and in 2007 the verdict was reversed. In 2010, a federal jury awarded $900,000 in compensatory damages, but East Haven appealed that decision and won in 2012. A panel of three judges ruled that the town was not liable for the shooting. Emma then filed to have the US Supreme Court hear her case. On October 7, 2013, the US Supreme Court declined to consider Emma’s appeal of a lower court ruling. Sadly, twenty years, two jury trials, and several appeals after April 14, 1997, Emma and her family have not received justice for the shooting of Malik, an all-too-typical outcome in police-involved deaths. There is no end to Emma’s pain.

  On January 31, 2006, I contacted Cynthia through one of my attorneys in Chattanooga. John Wolfe also represented her family in the wrongful death lawsuit of her son, Brandon Miller. He was killed on June 27, 2003, in Cleveland, Tennessee. Brandon was a handsome twenty-nine-year-old African American. He was law abiding and an employed college-educated professional. Unfortunately, Brandon was alone when he encountered a person who should never have been a police officer. Any well-trained officer would not use deadly force against an unarmed person merely for a speeding violation—if the claim of speeding was even accurate. Brandon had no criminal record or outstanding warrants, so there was no documentation to portray him as a villain. The officer claimed that Brandon was speeding when he was stopped and subsequently tried to flee and run over him. Witnesses living nearby contradicted the officer’s version in sworn depositions.2 The grand jury cleared the officer of any wrongdoing. The testimonies of key eyewitnesses were not heard. The grand jury only considered the police department’s version of what happened. In reference to the grand jury, Cynthia was quoted as saying, “They don’t want the witnesses talking for some reason. They just don’t want the truth.”3 The officer was not held accountable for the murder of Brandon. No justice was served.

  There were several mothers with whom I connected but never met. I never met Sarah, who didn’t live in Chattanooga, but I did contact her in November 2004 to offer my condolences and to discuss her experience with the Chattanooga Police Department. We communicated by telephone and exchanged e-mail messages. The circumstances that caused the death of her daughter were very different from most of the mothers I contacted. Her case, which occurred approximately two years before Leslie’s death, involved a traffic accident that was caused by a patrol officer. In that tragedy, Vanessa, an eighteen-year-old white university student, was killed. The officer was driving at a high speed through a red traffic light without using the emergency siren. The driver of the vehicle in which Vanessa was a passenger thus had no awareness of an emergency vehicle approaching. When she attempted to drive through the green light, the police cruiser hit her vehicle on the front passenger side. Vanessa died instantly.

  Although Sarah and I were strangers, we talked at length about our children. When she sent her only child to college, she never expected to receive the “chilling” phone call that Vanessa was dead. Vanessa’s death occurred on December 13, 2002, just a few days prior to ending the first semester of her freshman year. As grieving mothers, Sarah and I had a lot in common, although our experiences with the police department were different. The officer responsible for Vanessa’s death was remorseful, expressed his sorrow, and, subsequently, resigned his position. According to Sarah, he was the only person in the department to show any remorse. The police investigation found that the officer was driving too fast for conditions and sped through a traffic light without “utilizing due caution.” There was a lawsuit settlement. Police Chief Steve Parks told the family that the department would adopt new, year-round training methods in an effort to keep officers focused on proper emergency vehicle operation. In our case, we were only met with defiance and disdain. After Parks told us that Leslie’s death was an accident, his expressions to us ended. Sarah and I agreed that legislation should be changed to bring attention to po
lice abuse, neglect, and outcomes in which police are put above the law. In an e-mail message from Sarah to me, she said, “I grieve with you for your loss. The pain will always be with you and your life is changed forever, as you know. Being a Christian, I hope to be reunited with my daughter someday. If you have the same beliefs, you will also see your son.”

  Connie was the mother who traveled with me and Dwight to the Parents of Murdered Children’s Conference. We both live in Missouri. In the local November 28, 2006, edition of the Southeast Missourian, there was an article about twenty-five-year-old Derek Hale, who had been shot and killed in Wilmington, Delaware, on November 6, 2006.4 Derek, a veteran and former US Marine Corps sergeant, had survived in Iraq. He had fought for the safety of Americans, only to return home to die on American soil at the hands of a police officer charged to serve and protect. Derek lived in Manassas, Virginia. He had gone to Wilmington to participate in a “Toys for Tots Run,” sponsored by his motorcycle club. Derek was unarmed and sitting on the steps of a friend’s house when he was approached by several police officers. Police claimed they suspected the club of criminal activity. Like Trayvon Martin, Derek was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. Could this have been his crime? Derek had no criminal record, and there was no evidence that he was involved in any crimes. On that fateful Saturday afternoon, Derek posed no threat to anyone and did nothing to invite aggressive behavior from the police. Dr. David Crowe was interviewed for the article. This is what he said about Derek:

  Derek is a true hero in my life for what he did for my son Taylor. In elementary school when Taylor was in the throes of autism, Derek was right there helping him and involving him in the mainstream; coming over on weekends or any free time Derek had. He was an extraordinary young man. What an unspeakable irony and tragedy, when you survive two tours in Iraq and then are killed by law enforcement in your own country.

  The circumstances leading to Derek’s death were that Derek was tased three times in rapid succession by two officers. Additionally, one officer shot him in the chest at close range. This occurred all within three minutes, without any attempt of appropriate dialogue to diffuse a potentially deadly situation. Actually, there was no “situation,” prior to the arrival of the police officers. After he was tased, the officer told him to put up his hands. He was trying to comply but could not get his hands up because of his body’s reaction to being tased. A contractor working next door was an eyewitness. He said, “He didn’t deserve to be shot. He wasn’t any kind of threat. They had him surrounded. They could have grabbed him.”5 People claim that citizens are safe if only they comply with the demands of the police. But complying or trying to comply, as in Derek’s case, is not a shield against the intentions of an abusive police officer. In 2010, the city of Wilmington, Delaware, settled the federal lawsuit for $875,000, paid to Derek’s widow, Elaine, in exchange for the release of all legal claims. The city and police officials defended the officers’ actions. The officer who shot Derek was cleared of any wrongdoing and was later promoted.6 There was no justice in Derek’s death.

  On Thanksgiving eve in 2007, the ringing of the telephone interrupted my cooking responsibilities for the next day. “Is this Dr. Loretta Prater?” I wondered what stranger would be calling me to chat on the night before Thanksgiving. Even telemarketers don’t do that. The caller introduced herself as Dr. Marcia Riley from Atlanta. She explained that she wanted to talk to me about Leslie’s death because her unarmed son had also died from an altercation with law enforcement officers.

  Marcus Nygel Elliott, her twenty-two-year-old son, was killed in Plano, Texas, on June 30, 2007, within forty-eight hours of being detained in a Collin County jail. When she first talked to her son, after his arrest, he said to his mother, “They are going to beat me, Mom; I’m scared.” His fear was understandable, considering that he only weighed 130 pounds and, as he told his mother, there were about twelve jailors. After that initial conversation, she called numerous times to speak with him, but each time she was told that he was “housed” and did not want to speak with her. Finally, he called her and was much calmer; he talked about his plans for the future. That was the last time she heard his voice. The next phone call she received was from a social worker at McKinney Medical Center. She said to Marcia, “Marcus hung himself in jail.” After her initial hysteria at hearing that news, the first person she called was her brother, a police officer for more than twenty-five years.7 According to Marcia, “Marcus was talented and had much potential. He only wanted a new start, add a new story to his life.”

  Someone who is looking forward to a future doesn’t commit suicide. Marcia received conflicting reports of how Marcus died. Dr. William Rohr, the Collin County medical examiner, listed the manner of death as “homicide” and the cause as “sudden death after struggle and restraint” on the death certificate.8 In the July 2 issue of the McKinney Courier-Gazette, the medical examiner stated that suicide was not the cause of death. Another news item reported information provided by a sheriff’s spokesperson. It stated, “Marcus Nygel Elliott, 22, of Atlanta stopped breathing while being held down by officers. Officers noticed Mr. Elliott lying on his bunk with a thread around his neck that had been removed from his jail uniform. As officers tried to remove the string, Mr. Elliott began kicking and swinging at them. After Mr. Elliot’s arms and legs were shackled to a restraining table, a nurse discovered he was not breathing.”9 Marcia sought legal counsel, but no one would take the case.

  The evening of my first conversation with Marcia marked the beginning of a friendship, spanning years, although we were initially drawn to each other through tragedy. We also had a common interest in writing. Marcia was a journalist, owner of her own business, and the author of the book Hot-lanta. Our desire was to bring attention to police brutality and ways that families can unite to support one another. One of those strategies was to start the support group MOMS (Mothers of Murdered Sons: Unarmed and Killed by Law Enforcement). As previously mentioned, we joined with two other mothers at the 2009 Parents of Murdered Children’s conference to initiate MOMS. We were two white mothers and two black mothers grieving the deaths of our sons. Unfortunately, the MOMS group did not expand as we had hoped. We discovered that there are so many groups with a similar purpose. The challenge is to unite under one umbrella, comparable to Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD). We understand that may never occur, because MADD has the support of law enforcement and the larger community.

  On February 14, 2008, twenty-three-year-old Zachary Snyder, an unarmed white male, was shot and killed by a Fugitive Unit Investigator, with the Missouri Department of Corrections. Snyder was shot while avoiding his parole officer. Zachary’s nonviolent offense was a parole violation and failure to appear. According to a newspaper report, the officer pulled out his service revolver as he approached the victim. Snyder was initially compliant but then turned and ran. The officer shot Zachary in the back. As usual, the officer’s defense was that he feared for his safety. Clearly, Snyder was not attempting to threaten the officer’s life, considering that he was running away from the officer.10

  When this story was first reported, I searched for information to locate Snyder’s mother. Edith lived approximately fifty miles from me. It did not matter that she wasn’t African American. She was another grieving mother in need of compassion. In a “cold call,” I introduced myself, expressed empathy, and alerted her to some of the challenges she would face. In all likelihood, her help would come from outside the justice system. As the victim, her son would most likely be profiled as a villain and blamed for his death. The killer would probably not be held accountable or serve one day of jail time for his actions.

  Edith expressed worry about her preschool grandchildren, who would not have the benefit of her son in their lives. She said that her son was a nonviolent, loving person. I could not help but think about the irony that her son was killed on Valentine’s Day. She thanked me for my call of support. We have never spoken again. The eventual ou
tcome of the case was that the officer was charged with involuntary manslaughter but was later acquitted. However, Zachary’s father had expressed to news reporters that his son was assassinated. As the result of the family’s civil wrongful death lawsuit, a jury awarded Snyder’s children $1 million.11

  I talked with Angella Henry once, but I never met her. I saw a news report about the shooting of unarmed Danroy “D. J.” Henry Jr., her twenty-year-old son in New York. In their case, her husband Danroy Henry Sr., an executive with a Fortune 500 company, was the family’s primary spokesperson. As a mother, I wanted to reach out directly to Angella. I made a “cold call” to their home and asked to speak to her. Angella was cautious and seemed rather anxious at receiving a call from a stranger, which I understood. There are so many haters out there who want to bring harm to anyone who speaks out against unlawful actions of police officers. After I provided more information about myself and the reason for my call, she was more relaxed and inviting of my expressions of empathy and understanding. As I had hoped, we talked as one grieving mother to another, which described our new and unwelcomed role in life. We will always carry the burden of our children being murdered and the judicial system’s cold response of no justice. As I experienced with other mothers, it seemed to me as though we were friends, instantly bonded by our common pain and compassion for one another. I later read a statement Angella had given to a reporter. She said, “The pain of losing our son so suddenly is insatiable and not only has his absence changed us forever, but his suffering will always haunt us as well.”12