I am hopeful that other opportunities to research those questions will arise, as I plan to continue presenting sensitivity training. I have been invited to return to the regional academy in Cape Girardeau, and I have entered into discussions with Dr. Pernell Witherspoon, a criminal justice faculty member at Lindenwood University in St. Louis, and a former Ferguson police officer. We are planning to develop joint workshops focused on sensitivity training. Our combined resources of background, knowledge, and experience can be invaluable in helping police departments develop effective community relationships.
10
No Justice, No Peace
Paths in Seeking Change through Public Policy
Let me begin this chapter by sharing the chorus from “We Are the Survivors.” This was performed at the opening ceremony of the Parents of Murdered Children’s Conference on August 8, 2008, in Irvine, California. I did not attend, but this was sent to me by attendee Dr. Marcia Riley.
We are the survivors, left behind to carry on.
We are the survivors, joined together we are strong.
We will speak out for our loved ones who were not given a choice.
We are the survivors, hear our voice.
This chapter is dedicated to the many surviving victims of police brutality, those seeking a path to justice. Although I focus mostly on mothers, I recognize that persons with other relationships to victims are suffering too. We are on the seemingly endless journey of searching for peace, while conceding that justice has been denied. As persons thrust into a foreign existence, we are navigating a web of pain, seeking closure but wondering if closure really exists or is just a myth. With the completion of this book, will I be able to close the door and attain closure? I suppose that is one of my fears. I have suppressed so many emotions in order to have the energy and concentration to focus on writing. Maybe that is why it has taken me thirteen years to get to this point. If closure is not on the other side of the door, what else could be waiting?
What is the main purpose of this concluding chapter? In listening to a news report on May 15, 2017, a statement from former president Bill Clinton answered that question. His comment was related to anti-immigration policies. At the graduation ceremony at Hobart and William Smith Colleges, he challenged graduates to “expand the definition of ‘us’ and shrink the definition of ‘them.’” Applying those words to the issue of police brutality, that is exactly my hope. If effective community policing is to become a reality, we must bridge the gap between “us” and “them.” The “us” represents families grieving from the results of police brutality and others who see a need for change in policing. The “them” represents police department personnel, the judicial system, and citizens who feel that police can do no wrong. If those divisions were lessened, there could be two positive outcomes: we could come together as a collective force against injustice, wherever it may reside, and we would give police officers the respect that is earned, and for which they yearn.
These are complex matters, without quick fixes. The suggestions I pose have emerged from literature reviews, talking to others, and personal experience, with some backed up by research. These recommendations alone will not erase conflict. In a number of communities, interactions between police and citizens represent a complex and potentially volatile environment, creating a condition that developed over many years. It may be two more generations before society “figures it out.” In the meantime, we need to work together to live peaceably. In one of my sensitivity trainings, a police cadet wrote, “Peace is not the absence of conflict, but rather the presence of justice.”
Television shows and movies about murders usually focus on the murderers, with little attention to the families of the persons killed. These grieving families include a growing number of individuals who seek out one another for empathy and understanding.1 They seek justice, rather than revenge. Throughout history, there are examples of families avenging a murder by killing someone from the family of the murderer. The result was a blood feud that could last for generations, as with the Hatfields and McCoys.2 As societies became more prosperous and more settled, they gained a strong incentive to resolve such conflicts peaceably. Unfortunately, gang members continue to practice “an eye for an eye.”
In America, the victims’ rights movement largely began among feminists in the 1970s, with the opening of the first rape-crisis centers. Surprisingly, the strongest resistance to victims’ rights came from within the criminal justice system. The feeling was that empowering the crime victim would place a limit on the power of the state. Most cases were disposed of behind closed doors, with attorneys, prosecutors, and judges deciding punishments by bargaining. Many criminal cases are still settled in that manner, but justice isn’t served until crime victims are served.3
Grief after homicide does not follow a predictable course for families. The intense grief experienced by survivors can last a lifetime. Discussing the murder is like trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle to make sense of it all. As much as they try, the pieces just don’t fit. These families, or secondary victims, continually experience trauma. They seek help through counseling, support groups, and spiritual avenues. To help with the grief process and to control anger, some seek a way to turn emotions into positive action, rather than resorting to revenge.
There are some common experiences among families in which a child dies at the hands of law enforcement. Often, the cards seem stacked in favor of the police and it is unclear where to turn for help. When a family member is killed by someone other than a police officer, the judicial system is the family’s friend. At meetings of Parents of Murdered Children (POMC), many family members gave testimonials expressing appreciation for the help, consideration, and understanding of police officers. I witnessed this also at the 2016 annual Rainbow of Mothers Gala in St. Louis. Sitting at the table with me was a mother who echoed these same sentiments. Initially, I had thought that her child was killed by police officers because most of the “Rainbow Mothers” had that experience. She told me, however, that her son was killed by a neighbor, not a police officer. She quickly clarified her circumstances, saying, “The killer was sentenced to life in prison, but that fact still did not bring my son back or give me peace.” I sensed her deep hurt. Although the circumstances that ended our sons’ lives and the consequences for the killers were different, in the end, no grief can be judged more or less than that of another.
I mentioned earlier that Rev. Al Sharpton and Congresswoman Maxine Waters attended the Rainbow of Mothers Gala. I was heartened by their expressions to family members. Rev. Sharpton made a statement that has continued to resonate with me. To paraphrase, he said that to the general public, deaths from violence are headlines, but to the mothers, this is their life without their sons and daughters. I believe that all of the mothers probably suffer from a stress-induced condition known as “broken heart syndrome” that results from grief and extreme anger.4 I also appreciated that Congresswoman Waters gave us encouragement that changes could be forthcoming within the criminal justice system, especially if persons elected to office in 2016 are supportive of criminal justice reform. Unfortunately, Jeff Sessions, the new US attorney general, has clearly stated his position. He wrote, “Local control and local accountability are necessary for effective local policing. It is not the responsibility of the federal government to manage non-federal law enforcement agencies.”5 For persons suffering from police misconduct, it appears that seeking assistance from the current federal Department of Justice leaders will be fruitless.
Victims’ stress is compounded by revictimization from media sensationalism immediately after the loved one’s death. The constant news reports are hard to bear. One of the most extreme examples of media excess is the Michael Brown/Ferguson case. I empathize with his family every time I see one of those reports, especially those that show his body lying in the street in a pool of blood. Immediately after hearing of a child’s death, why would
a reporter ask a mother in shock, “How do you feel?” Journalists, because of their vast public influence, must understand that they can do damage as well as good. They must weigh the need to inform the public against the need for those involved to be treated with compassion. Being a sensitive human being can clash with being a loyal employee. Here is an amazing example of that concept. A school in Pennsylvania initiated a new policy that if a child’s parents had an outstanding lunch account of more than $25, the child would receive a cheese sandwich instead of a hot meal. This applied to children in kindergarten through sixth grade. Students in grades 7–12 would not receive a replacement lunch. The “lunch lady” refused to abide by the policy and gave a hot meal to a first grader who was only eligible for a cheese sandwich. The employee was admonished and forced to take away that meal, which had to be thrown away. After observing the sad look on the child’s face and tears in his eyes, she terminated her employment. She refused to carry out such a mean-spirited practice.6 When faced with choices in conflict with your inner peace, maybe the rule is to consider how you would like to be treated in a similar situation, more commonly referred to as the Golden Rule.
Social media comments can also be very hurtful, especially those that make negative assumptions about your child and family without any factual information. This secondary victimization is traumatic for survivors. Strangers using social media as a method to hurt survivors only add to the pain. In some instances, the social media aggressors maintain their privacy. Survivors don’t have that advantage. In our experience, although some of the social media comments were supportive of us, I had to stop reading most of the entries. Even if only one out of ten was mean-spirited, I was hurt and angered by that one comment. My blood pressure would escalate, and it was difficult to sleep. Those people didn’t even know Leslie or us but would write cruel statements, often sprinkled with name-calling, and portray their false statements as facts.
Reporters can be valuable in helping families to bring attention to injustice. I do understand the role of the press and that the Constitution allows for freedom of speech. We need freedom of the press, as well as balanced sensitivity to situations. I am thankful for the freedoms embedded within the First Amendment of the Constitution and pray that those freedoms are one day extended to everyone. It is also good to remember that shouting “fire” in a crowded theater in which there is no fire is not without legal consequences. The First Amendment doesn’t protect false speech that is likely to cause immediate harm to others. Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote, “The question in every case is whether the words used are used in such circumstances and are of such a nature as to create a clear and present danger.”7
Families have no control over the written word or the outcome of the grievance. Law enforcement and criminal justice systems control the right to information and to seek justice through punishment of the perpetrator. Loss of control is even more pronounced when the perpetrator is never punished or acknowledged as being at fault. In that case, where is the closure for survivors? The tragedy is compounded by the fact that many family members have no prior experience with the criminal justice system. They are unfamiliar, even with terms such as “plea-bargain,” “continuance,” and “deposition.” Some situations require family members to incur travel expenses because they also have little or no control over the location of deliberations. Families trying to navigate through these tragedies tend to experience longer bereavement periods because we must delay our grief process while coping with the intrusions of the outside world. Actually, in addition to grieving for our loved one, we are grieving the loss of ourselves. We can never be the same people. We don’t know how to respond when people say to us, “You should get on with your life.” Where is the road map for that journey?
Families caught up in this judicial drama have common experiences. I have categorized it as a scripted play, with the police department administrators, their officers, and other law enforcement personnel as the stars. Victims’ family members are the extras. Our assigned role has mostly been to stand to the side, remain silent, and observe as the stars perform. It has only been recently that more families are rejecting these roles. When these wrongful deaths occur, the parts are distributed to the performers to begin the play. Act 1 usually begins with the police chief putting the officers on paid administrative leave and convening a press conference to state that they will thoroughly investigate the incident to get the facts and that they will be transparent. In the meantime, they want the community to remain calm and allow them to pursue their investigation. I practically heard those exact words in our case and in regard to the shooting death of thirteen-year-old Tyre King in Columbus, Ohio. Similar to twelve-year-old Tamir Rice, Tyre was in the possession of a toy gun and was killed by a white officer.8 Sometimes police officials will promise to keep the family and community informed, but that may or may not happen.
Act 2 is for the department to begin investigating the victim’s past and rush to give the press any negative situations to stereotype the victim. They dig deeply for anything “bad.” Prior to the final act, there is a strategy to extend the intermission as long as possible. They drag out the investigation and wear down the family. When they finally release the results of their internal investigation, the last scene in the play, the finding is that the officers were justified in killing the victim. The officers are returned to their positions. As usual, their life goes on, until the next citizen’s wrongful death. In subsequent cases, the same officer or officers may be involved. With each situation, the officers use the common defense “I felt threatened.” When that occurs, the play is repeated. It is as though it’s all in a day’s work. The families are left with memories, a gravesite, and an open wound of a perpetual sense of loss.
Recently, more families have publicly opposed police departments’ typical findings. It angers the family when the tendency is to blame the victim and elevate the officers to sainthood. Departments repeat this process because it keeps working for them. Usually, the outcome favors the officers, so why would they want to do anything different? Even in the face of ridiculous excuses, such as “I feared for my life,” when the deceased was clearly unarmed and posed no threat to anyone, police officers are successfully defended. Even with one unarmed victim in the presence of several armed police perpetrators, these excuses still seem to work. Even if the person is already handcuffed or is unarmed and running away from the police when killed, these excuses serve as a successful defense. Sometimes this grief journey feels like riding a roller coaster with no straps around us for protection.
I wrote many of my feelings in a journal in 2004. I thought using journal writing as an emotional release would help me to keep my sanity. Unfortunately, on most days, I felt too depressed to even write. I didn’t want to review the day and relive the pain. To my amazement, some of the feelings expressed remained constant over the years. Here are a couple of examples:
May 16, 2004. It’s Sunday morning again. I can hardly stand it. Sunday mornings were the time the telephone usually rang and when I said hello, there was a cheerful, “Hello mother dear,” from Leslie. Oh, how I miss his voice, those conversations, and his presence. There is so much anger and rage bottled up inside of me. How could those cruel and ignorant cops take his life? What gave them the right to do that, just because they were wearing a uniform? I can’t believe that the Blue Wall protects police regardless of what they do. It is maddening. A lot of people still tell us that they are praying for us. I always say to continue, because we need it and are far from justice. The Lord is our only refuge. I keep praying for strength, because I know that we have a long battle ahead of us. I keep hoping that some of the people who are “with us” in private will come out of the house and publicly state their positions. I keep praying for that.
December 5, 2004. Lord help me. Everyone keeps telling me to “hang in there,” but I feel that daily I am slipping. It is hard to think of anything except getting justice for Leslie’s murder.
Today was one of my grief days. I was depressed and had little energy to do much of anything. It was beautiful outside, but I couldn’t get motivated to do anything, except to go to the post office. I feel so helpless. My anxiety about Christmas and the anniversary of Leslie’s death gets worse with each passing day. I wish I could skip Christmas.
In discussing a family’s response to police killings, attention is mostly focused on adults. Children are also influenced by these deaths. You may have observed children marching with their parents during some of the televised community protests. The heartbreak was real for brave nine-year-old Zianna Oliphant, from Charlotte, North Carolina. Zianna appeared before the Charlotte City Council on September 26, 2016, a week after police fatally shot African American Keith Lamont Scott. She gave a tearful testimony on racism and policing. She pleaded with authorities to stop the police from killing our fathers and mothers. She talked about children having to visit the graves of their parents because of these homicides. Zianna said, “We are black people and we shouldn’t have to feel like this. We shouldn’t have to protest because y’all are treating us wrong.”9
In addition to parents, many victims of wrongful deaths are survived by spouses, siblings, other relatives, and friends, who are also grieving. Leslie’s aunt Louise often speaks of the special relationship she had with Leslie. In expressing her feelings, she wrote, “I really feel as though he is still with me, for I loved him very much. More than words can say, he is embedded deep within my heart.” In an effort to keep the anger, frustration, outrage, and sadness from consuming him, Leslie’s brother, Stefan, confronted his feelings through writing, which allowed some of his suppressed emotions to escape. Also, he starred in a full-length feature independent film, Officer Down, produced by Rick Bakewell and dedicated to Leslie’s memory. Stefan was cast in the role of a police officer. Through the movie, he gained insight into a more positive side of policing.
Excessive Use of Force Page 27