Dear uncomfortable officer of the law:
Today is December 3, 2014. It is now 117 days since the murder of Mike Brown. It’s also 59 years and 98 days since the murder of Emmett Till, whose death represented a pivotal moment for civil rights activists. I bring up this fact because almost 60 years have passed since Till’s racially motivated murder, and Black men are still being lynched.
You might ask: How can I classify Brown’s murder as a lynching? Well, let’s start with how his body was left on the hot pavement for four-and-a-half hours; it would stain Canfield Drive for many days after he was finally carried away into an unmarked black SUV. A nurse who lives in the area attempted to check the pulse of Brown while he lay out there but was turned away by police officers on scene. The image of his neglected body is now ingrained into the minds of all Canfield Green residents, in the same way that bodies of lynched Black men were decades ago.
Many of those residents who came out on the streets after the killing, shocked that Brown had been shot for walking in the middle of the street, took pictures and video of the scene. Some of us hoped that footage would lead to justice, but it seems nothing was enough to charge Brown’s killer in this case.
Some of the witnesses who came forward after the shooting told investigators they were too afraid to show up for future proceedings out of fear for their lives. As Tina Susman reported for the Los Angeles Times, “In testifying before the Ferguson grand jury, witnesses were fearful—of police, neighbors, the KKK.” Some witnesses, Susman added, were “so distrustful of police that they did not offer information until investigators knocked on their doors.” At the same time, the officer claimed to be afraid of Michael Brown, which is why he shot him. But then he referred to the unarmed 18-year-old in a televised interview as a “monster,” even calling him “it.”
Why would he refer to Mike Brown as such? To play the victim? But he killed someone’s son, cousin, grandson, friend, and brother. How is the armed officer the victim?
The fear of Black people in this country is much different from the fear Officer Wilson claimed as his defense, in that it’s an everyday fear of being killed, or having family killed, at the hands of so-called law enforcers. It’s an oppressive, overwhelming feeling officers like Wilson will never have the privilege of experiencing.
In 2004, when I was 18, I was graduating high school and thinking about attending college. When I think about Mike Brown, I think about all the opportunities I saw before my eyes at graduation that Mike and so many other young men murdered by police officers will never have the opportunity to see. I think about my young cousins, who are under 21; some of them are currently attending college. What will their futures hold?
Many of us on the front lines in Ferguson realize how Mike could have been one of us or one of our siblings, our cousins, or one of our friends. For others, this could have easily been their child. Many protesters have young children whom they would like to see reach the age of 18, 25, and even 50. This movement was created based on the fundamental right to be treated and respected as human beings, as first-class citizens of the United States. We want to walk down the street without harassment, and be able to drive down the freeway without harassment. We want to live our lives just like you do, and to do so feeling respected and valued as citizens.
And yet, on Monday, November 24, the St. Louis County Grand Jury decided not to indict Mike Brown’s killer, showing us that in some people’s eyes Black lives don’t matter.
How is it okay for someone not to be punished for unjustly killing another human being? Those people who see the actions taken by Darren Wilson as just are missing the patterns of police behavior that have made it legal to kill innocent Black men, women, and children in our country.
If you’re thinking, “Well, you aren’t like Mike Brown,” I will have to strongly disagree with you. For starters, I am a Black man. I am also young—not as young as Mike Brown, but young. And I walk many streets of St. Louis County and city with friends or alone. Growing up, my parents had “the talk” with me about what I should do when pulled over by the police. It’s incredibly unfortunate that Black parents are still having this talk with their kids. Why has nothing been done? Why are Black men, women, and children seen as such a threat to white officers?
When you look at me, standing 5’7″ and thin in build, what could possibly cross your mind? Does my brown skin intimidate you? Is it envy, or disgust, or do you not know? To make it easy on yourself, as soon as you find a reason to, you will kill me at gunpoint. What would happen if instead you took the time to really know and understand who I am? Or who Keijime Powell was? Or Mike Brown? Vonderrit Myers? Eric Garner? Amadou Diallo? Oscar Grant? Ezell Ford? Tanisha Anderson? Tamir Rice?
You don’t properly take the time to assess how you might deescalate an otherwise typical situation. You don’t think about how your reaction might mean taking a life, and what that death might mean to so many people. Or what it should mean to you.
Do you stop to even think: “Oh, what if this was my child, sibling, partner, mate, or friend—would I react this way?”
It is no longer responsible for you to become the judge, the jury, and the executioner. It is no longer acceptable for you to walk away and wash not only your hands but your conscience clean. It is unjust for you to enforce laws but not live by them.
I have friends who are officers of the law whom I respect and love. I hold them accountable to serve and protect their communities. I hold them accountable for their actions when they proudly display their badge.
You owe it to the communities you serve to make better decisions when approaching someone who is unarmed, whether it is a Black man, woman, or child. You owe it to the country to stop the cycle of police brutality, to stop abusing the power you have been given. You owe an apology to the families of slain victims. And I deserve respect, along with my Black brothers and sisters. We are citizens of this country; we are Americans.
I will continue to fight for justice until that is understood.
Thank you for your time,
Larry Fellows III
