in memory of oscar grant III

on january 1 of this year, perhaps even the first homicide of the year for oakland, a young man died with his face against the concrete on the platform of the fruitvale BART station.

from a gunshot wound.

from a cop's gun.

in his back.

i mourn the death of oscar grant the third. i grieve that his four year old daughter will grow into an adult without a father. i weep that his family is missing a son, his friends are missing a buddy, his church is missing a piece of their community, the world is missing him.

the same city and saw erupt on nov. 4 over the election of our fist african american president, i see erupt over the murder of a young african american man.

but what strikes me most is the familiarity of what is going on around me. in 2001, my senior year of high school, timothy thomas died from a gunshot wound to his back, from the gun of a cop named steven roach, on the streets of cincinnati. he was wanted for traffic violations. roach is still a cop, though no longer with cincinnati police... out in the burbs.

for cincinnati, as for oakland, it did not stop there, as it shouldn't.

thomas was the fifteenth in a string of deaths (not all shootings) of black men at the hands of police in about five years. what followed his death, and the subsequent inaction by the city, is alternately called protests, unrest, or riots, depending on your perspective. it made national and international news as race riots. there was marching. there were cops in riot gear, using tear gas, shooting crowds with bean bags. the city was put under curfew. information was incomplete even from close by. who knew if the news was telling the real story. as a high school student, i was unable to go to the neighborhood center where i usually tutored, as it was in the heart of the impacted neighborhood. i was frustrated that my parents and teachers would not let us continue to do what we do. i was fearful for the people i knew and loved in that neighborhood, but i sat comfortably far away. i was afraid of the cops. i had once walked through the riot cops downtown as they waited for protests against the WTO. not a protestor, downtown with my mother, we felt harrassed by one of the cops in his full gear.

but, the effects of the death of thomas, the pattern of abuse of power by the cincinnati police, and the community's response went far beyond that week in april. a significant rift, serious distrust, deepened between the police and the community. businesses in the impacted neighborhood took years to recover. and the deaths stopped. i do not know of a death at the hands of cincinnati police since (i could be wrong, i did move away). a liaison commission was set up between police and community, and this summer, when the NAACP met in Cincinnati for their national convention, they applauded the growth of the cincinnati police department. cincinnati is moving, growing and changing.

when i heard about the death of grant, i couldn't help but remember timothy thomas. when i heard that a peaceful protest shut down the fruitvale bart station, i was relieved that oakland seemed to be handling the rage better than cincinnati did. i thought this would be different. i thought that this powerful and organized community would be able to generate change and justice.

memory is often poor. in my emotional reaction, i forgot that the "riots" in cincinnati started this same way. looking out my window at a line of cops in riot gear moving down my street (where i didn't see any protesters), i remembered in my bones, the fear that i felt at eighteen. only this time, the cops were coming down my street.

theoretically, the cops were there to make me feel safe. to protect the people in the neighborhood from the mob in the streets. but what about when those in the neighborhood those the cops are protecting, are outraged too? also want justice? knowing what i saw in cincinnati, remembering the first time i came face to face with riot cops, i am much more fearful of the cops than i am of the protesters, than i am of the community.

the cops "have control" according to the news. the protesters are dispersing. they left my street because the mayor himself showed up on the street corner, not a hundred yards from my window, to talk tot he protesters, to walk with them, to try to negotiate in person. i never heard of anything of the sort coming out of city hall in cincinnati in 2001.

there is an investigation or two of three going on into grant's death. but, it has been a week and BART, the employer of the cop who pulled the trigger, "has not had a chance" to get a statement from him. and now he has resigned, and they have no way to talk to him.

on behalf of the family, a $25 million dollar wrongful death suit has been filed against BART.

through all of this, i have been pondering what justice is in this case. oscar grant III can not be brought back. his daughter will never again have a father. theories have been tossed about that the officer may have thought he pulled his tazer, and so the shooting was an accident. would that explanation bring any relief if it were true? would it be better for the officer to admit fear, aggression, or another motive for the shooting? will justice only be done if the officer is behind bars, if the family gets a $25 million payment? i do not know what can fix it... and i am a mere observer from afar. i cannot imagine what would "fix it", make it right, give to each their equal due, for those close to grant.

i do know that each and every one in this community should not stand for the death of anyone at the hands of cops, especially those most vulnerable, most likely to be murdered by those in power--young black men. no one in this country should stand for it. we should all be outraged. we should all demand justice.