When the police kill someone in this city, too often they are allowed to define who that person was. Through the police officers' apologist mouthpieces in the corporate media, all we ever learn is a few extraneous facts, usually not even accurate. Whether the person ever did drugs or not, we are fed snippets to make us believe they were a drug addict. If they were ever in trouble with the law, we are told that. If they were poor or homeless or somehow different than the Brady Bunch family, we are told those details. But never anything more. We are never given a real picture of the real human being whose living and breathing flesh was so terribly assaulted by the police state that they have been added to the long list of people who gave their lives to the Force. The brute force of power crazed thugs in uniform.
I want to know more than that. I look at the photograph of this man who is no longer alive in the world with us, and I want to know who he really was. What stories did he have to tell? What roads did he travel down? What kind of life was taken from him by the police?
Is there anyone who can speak up for him? The man in the photograph has eyes that seem like they were full of stories. The kind of stories you would never get from the shallow, superficial corporate media. The kind of stories he can no longer tell us. He was a brother to us, and we must listen to the silence for a whisper, rather than sketching in his life from the hard lines and coarse details spooned out by the corporate press. Somehow, it seems so much more unjust for them to take his story away along with his life. Please, if you knew him, give him back his stories. Share them with us.