I suppose I am doing the same thing by writing this book. From a counseling theory perspective, Stefan and I used a suggestion from Gestalt psychotherapy. This technique proposes that individuals must find their own ways to deal with unfinished business.10 In some of Stefan’s expressions, his words were primarily directed to those four police officers, although he never met them. I am amazed at how clearly Stefan also captured many of my own and Dwight’s feelings. I believe that he also expressed the sentiments that numerous other siblings would like to say to police officers who killed their brother or sister. Here is some of what he wrote:
Why did you feel it was necessary to beat and brutalize an unarmed, naked man? From the very way that the four of you behaved that night and the days that have followed since, I have strong doubts that any of you have a conscience. Not one of you has stepped forward to offer so much as an apology. It takes a coldhearted individual to take an innocent life, and not give it a second thought. The only thing Leslie was guilty of that night was indecent exposure. It was your job to get him to the nearest hospital to be evaluated. That was the right thing to do, instead you chose to act as the judge, jury and the executioner. What gives you that right? That’s why we have a judicial system in place. One of you should have stood up as a man to say, “Stop, this is unethical and is against procedure.” I don’t respect you as men or as police officers. No one deserves to be treated the way my brother was treated on that fateful evening. I’m sure the four of you could care less about what you did, and how it has affected me, my family and Leslie’s friends who loved him so much. You don’t realize that you are lucky. How many people can say they received a week’s paid vacation for murdering someone? During that same week and for the final time, I had to say good-bye to my big brother, whom I idolized. It is a travesty that you were not prosecuted and sent to jail. You still have your jobs. Most importantly, you still have your lives, which is something you took away from my brother. Leslie will never have the opportunity to enjoy life again.
Whether it were your parents, siblings, children, or any other of your loved ones, imagine someone doing to them what you did to Leslie on January 2, 2004. Just imagine someone abusing their body and then holding them facedown and restricting their breathing. Try to picture them gasping for their last breath, with their bruised, battered, and naked body lying lifeless on the ground. Now, imagine that the perpetrators of this violent act were the same individuals hired to protect and serve the community. You should all be ashamed, especially the two older officers. You were supposed to set an example for the younger officers. You failed and failed miserably. What is the danger to you when confronting a nude, unarmed, helpless man in need of your help? The entire Chattanooga Police Department should be ashamed for trying to masque what really took place that evening. We need to rid police departments of rogue and vigilante officers.
It is my true feeling that, if our justice system started holding officers responsible for their crimes, this nonsense might come to a halt. Raising the standards and requirements to become an officer might help, such as requiring a college degree. Based on the actions of some officers, annual mental evaluations would be helpful in identifying persons who should not be on the force. I know some good police officers, as well as some US (United States) marshals, Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) agents, and federal judges who all work to uphold the law honestly and ethically. Through my employment, I have had the opportunity to know and interact with these individuals. From my conversations with them, they have all agreed that your behavior was inhumane and unnecessary. They said, “It’s individuals like you who make their jobs much harder.” I completely agree. We need more police officers who believe in protecting and serving everyone. You probably thought that Leslie was a “thug,” but he was not. He was a lovely kindhearted person, who had lots of family and friends who loved him. You may not have known that on Jan. 2nd, but I imagine you know it now.
Do you think it is a coincidence that the city settled? They settled because they knew we had a strong case. I care nothing about the money. I would give it all back to have my brother here again; or to hear him laugh the way he did the morning of Jan. 2nd. I was blessed to spend the last two weeks of his life with him. That’s something that you can’t take away from me. You robbed him of his life, but you can never take away the memories of the times we had together.
Every time I look at my mother’s face or hear the tremble in her voice, I see all of the pain and damage that you have caused. We all love our mothers and are very protective of them. It angers me to a point I can’t explain, when I see how sad your behavior has made her. On a daily basis, I’m forever haunted by Leslie’s murder. Every time you close your eyes, you should see his face. When you‘re spending time with your family during the holiday, think about Leslie and the fact that you have damaged us beyond repair. Leslie will never have another Christmas, Christmas Eve birthday or any day, for that matter. It didn’t have to be that way, if only you had done your jobs that night. My brother deserved the respect that you would want someone to bestow upon you. He did not deserve to be treated like an animal. He was a human being, who deserved to live to have his day in court. You had no right to end his life. He should not be lying in a coffin, buried in a cemetery. He should be enjoying life the way you are. Think about that the next time you are having a good time. You may not be going to a physical prison, but it is my hope that you will forever live in a mental prison.
Although my contacts have mostly been with mothers, fathers grieve also. At the Rainbow of Mothers event, there was one father who asked if he could be included in the recognition ceremony. Of course, he was welcomed and embraced. Dwight is one who loves deeply and grieves deeply, but without few outward verbal expressions. As a very private person, he hasn’t openly discussed a lot of his emotions associated with Leslie’s death, not even with me. I invited him to write about any feelings that he would like for me to include in this book. Dwight’s thoughts are uniquely his and not the result of discussions with other fathers. This is what he wrote:
Losing a loved one is a trying experience. Losing a son is especially hard, since there are many goals that were put forward, that are now afterthoughts. These goals that were planned will never be attempted or reached. Stefan has lost his only sibling through the intentional actions of others, and I hurt for him. There is so much that I miss. I miss the relationship and the bonds of love; I miss the smiles and sometimes the frowns; I miss the visits and the gatherings; and I miss the possible achievements that could have been, similar to Kenney Chesney’s song, “What you could have been.” There is a realization that there will not be grandchildren from Leslie to carry on a legacy. There are holes in my life that can never be filled. People say things like, “You can have closure.” I assure you, there is no closure to a death that was perpetrated through the evil intent of others.
When Leslie died, many people lost a good friend. On Saturday, December 6, 2006, at 9:29 a.m., I received an e-mail from David. The subject was Les. This is an excerpt of what he wrote:
I was sitting thinking at Christmas who had shaped my life and inevitably Leslie’s name came to mind. You see, Leslie and I would wander in and out of each other’s lives from seventh grade until he passed a couple of years ago. Since moving from Chattanooga many years ago, I had just recently found out of his passing, while looking for his number on the Internet. My prayers will continue to go out to your family.
Your son taught me lessons about racism at an early age. Later in life, I called him up and asked him if he thought I was a racist, solely because I had recently been called one by a black man. Not that I thought I was, but maybe I was sending out the wrong “vibe” and I did not want to be misunderstood. This started a very somber and seldom seen flow of conversation from Les. He wanted to make sure, first and foremost, that I knew I wasn’t a racist. He summed it up to me in one phrase, “racism occurs when you no longer have the desire to unde
rstand tolerance.” It is never about race, it is control.
I just had a rush of memories typing that last paragraph. We would go water skiing on Chickamauga Lake, taking turns dragging each other until our hands were the shape of the handles. I went to Atlanta to meet his co-workers when he was doing medical illustrations. I was both jealous and amazed by his artistic ability. I intended moving to Atlanta years later and only living a couple of blocks away from the Art Institute, and thinking of him daily. He introduced me to the works of Earl Klugh and other jazz musicians. He was the first black person to be a guest at my grandmother’s home. My father loved your son, and I can still recall that peaceful feeling of looking over and seeing Les waving hysterically to me at my father’s funeral 18 years ago. I just wanted you to know that with all the complexities in life that we all have to overcome; your son has influenced some of the greatest dialog and life lessons that continue to influence not only me, but generations of both friends and family.
Sometimes we feel that we are alone, but there are sparks of support. Thankfully, there are some people whose actions demonstrate the words of Edmund Burke. In 1770, he addressed the House of Commons and said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. Injustice and oppression must not win.” In the Letters to the Editor from the July 11, 2004, edition of the Chattanooga Times Free Press, a person wrote in reference to Leslie’s homicide. The letter stated, “It’s time for the murder of unarmed citizens to end in our community. And time to demand that our elected officials and the TBI [Tennessee Bureau of Investigation] stop being accessories, after the fact, by being involved in the cover-ups.” A couple of weeks later, on the July 26, 2004, editorial page, another person stated that he was disgusted by the inhumane and brutal treatment of Leslie. In his concluding paragraph, he wrote, “Now, are we tax-paying residents of our great city and Hamilton County going to allow such conduct from the men on our police force?” Based on what we experienced, the answer was “Yes.”
A couple from Alabama sent Dwight and me a note, postmarked June 30, 2004. We knew them but had not seen or talked to them in ten years. I want to stress that compassion, concern, and love should have no boundaries of race. This is a white couple who did not withhold their support because we were of a different race. I wish more Americans, on both sides of the spectrum, would follow their lead. Their words were comforting and seemed to be just what we needed to get through that day when the letter arrived.
I can’t begin to imagine how horrible the last few months must have been for you. Your loss has weighed heavily on my heart. My husband and I are asking the Lord to continue to give your family strength and courage as you go through this ordeal that no parent should ever have to face. We are also praying for justice for your son and your family.
On August 31, 2004, I received an e-mail from a former police officer who had previously lived in Hamilton County and had worked for the Sheriff’s Department. The subject of the communication was “I’m sorry for your grief.” He wrote, “I’m very sorry for what you have endured with the lies and cover ups that the Chattanooga Police Department has been doing for many years, and still will until someone like you stands up for the rights of your son.”
We have been fortunate that our support has come from so many sources. To our surprise, one of our neighbors wrote a song about Leslie. After a dinner party at their home, the song was performed for us and other guests. “A Song for Leslie Prater” is an original creation of lyrics and guitar music by Dr. Dale Haskell, first performed on October 22, 2015.
He was a gentle spirit, with a smile that lit up the room.
It never dawned on us he could be gone so soon.
He was somebody’s brother. He was his parents’ beloved son.
Leslie was somebody, and he died too young.
It should not have gone the way it did. The police were involved.
Leslie Vaughn Prater’s passing wounded us all.
Leslie Prater’s passing wounded us all.
Nine-one-one was called that night when Leslie needed help.
People paid to protect and serve got busy protecting themselves.
They took him into custody. In a heartbeat, a good man dies.
They violated Leslie’s rights. Then, cover-up and lies.
It happened in Chattanooga, several years ago.
Being angry is not wrong. They say it’s changin’, but change is slow.
Stories like Leslie’s keep comin’ round, again and again.
Law enforcement uses force on dark-skinned men.
What happens when family members feel that there is little support? What happens when the support is short-lived? What happens when family members feel there is no treatment for the pain? With these sudden deaths, family members are overwhelmed, and the ability to use adaptive coping mechanisms is compromised. There is no schedule to the traumatic death experience. There is no specified length of time in which to adjust to life without the deceased. There was no time to prepare for the loss, so the total experience is overpowering. There was no chance to say good-bye and there was unfinished business. Also, traumatic death events often serve as reference points in time for the people who experience them. Depending on your age, most of you can remember where you were and what you were doing when you heard the news of the shooting of President John F. Kennedy, or the explosion of the space shuttle Challenger, or the September 11, 2001, downing of the Twin Towers in New York.
For survivors of victims from police brutality, there is a common experience of withdrawal of support. In addition to grief, survivors must deal with feelings of fear and vulnerability, anger, rage, shame, blame, and the denial that this could happen to someone they love. Questions about the death will be asked repeatedly in an effort to seek understanding and confirmation that this cannot be true. Also, the lack of familiarity and support by law enforcement, the criminal justice system, and media intrusion complicate bereavement. The delays in resolution of the murder, lack of adequate punishment for the crime, and lack of acknowledgment by society increases the feelings of loss of control.11 I was fortunate in that I had some knowledge of the criminal justice system, although personal involvement in a wrongful death lawsuit was new to me.
The death can provoke posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), with repeated intrusion of traumatic memories, numbing of general responsiveness, and increased physiological arousal.12 The Mayo Clinic’s staff defines PTSD as a mental health condition triggered by a terrifying event, either experiencing it or witnessing it. Symptoms may include flashback, nightmares, and severe anxiety, as well as uncontrollable thoughts about the event. Many people have difficulty adjusting to traumatic events, but do cope. When symptoms get worse and interfere with functioning, that is a signal that you may have the disorder.13 PTSD can develop in response to one or more traumatic events such as deliberate acts of interpersonal violence, severe accidents, disasters, or military actions. Devoting time and energy to civic work and trying to build bridges between police and the community through advocacy, writing, and training is my way of avoiding symptoms of PTSD. Families who buried loved ones because of police misconduct have been accused of only being interested in receiving money from a lawsuit. We did not choose sacrificing Leslie’s life as a scheme to make money. I don’t believe any of the other families did either. We must voice objections to violence through actions of police brutality.
Only recently, based on video footage, have some persons admitted that a police officer could provide an untruthful statement or participate in wrongdoing. Police officers are human, just like other people. There are police officers guilty of lying and committing crimes, just like other humans. Some of these wrongful actions are caught on camera. Subsequently, some of these taped interactions may be posted on the internet, even in real time. This happened in the case of thirty-two-year-old Philando Castile. His girlfriend was in the car with him when he was
fatally shot by a police officer during a routine traffic stop in Minnesota. The interaction was live-streamed on Facebook.14 Also, consider the timely video posted by Rakeyia Scott, the wife of victim Keith L. Scott, killed in Charlotte, North Carolina.15 She recorded footage before and after the shooting.
In chapter 2, I addressed the question of whether police brutality was a myth or reality. Now, there are follow-up questions: “Is police brutality a social disease, adversely affecting a group of people?” “Should the Centers for Disease Control declare a health crisis in certain communities nationwide because of the disease of police brutality?” Actually, there is a social movement toward linking violence with health outcomes, although not specific to police brutality. If police brutality is a social disease, then treatment is needed. There was some good news related to treatment. The United States Department of Justice, under the leadership of former president Barack Obama and former attorney general Loretta Lynch, aggressively investigated several large urban police departments for systematic civil rights abuses, such as harassment of racial minorities, false arrests, and excessive use of force. The report of the Chicago Police Department found that there was a reasonable cause to believe that the department engaged in a pattern of using deadly force in violation of the Fourth Amendment of the Constitution.16
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