"July 4th, 2006 My Son Was Killed By Police ..."
{http://soundcloud.com/soundslikerstin/july-4-2006-my-son-was-killed}
I knew it was going to be an emotional event - a community meeting at Paradise Baptist Church in South los Angeles after the killing of a young unarmed man by police officers. I did not expect to be stopped in my reporter tracks by an encounter I will never forget. After collecting several voices and stories I decided to spend the last minutes before the meeting with a lady reminding me of Maya Angelou with her dignified posture, elegant clothing, graceful movement and warm smile. First Diantha Black was reluctant to share her story. When she started to talk I held my breath.
"July 4th, 2006, my son was killed by police," Diantha Black said. She was still smiling but it was obvious she also was hurting. Diantha said police had lied to her like, according to her opinion, they were now lying regarding the killing of Ezell Ford. She said her son did not reach for a gun when they shot him because he did not have a gun. She also demanded to replace hate and violence with love. She came to the meeting to see justice done to her neighborhood. What does that mean for her? When I asked, her warm smile was replaced by calm graveness. "The same as for everybody who kills an innocent man: Life in the penitentiary for those in uniform who shoot unarmed men to die."
Before I talked to Diantha I had recorded young women voicing fear for their brothers and male friends saying "It is still calm in Los Angeles now, but peace did not work. We still get shot. There will be a revolution."
A man in his mid-forties had told me how he is scared to walk his neighborhood at night or sit on his porch because "police cars slow down and they look at me funny as if I did something wrong. This is my neighborhood! I live here! That's wrong!"
Many people stepped to the microphone voicing anger, frustration, hope and demands. One young lady asked who in the room had lost a family member or friend to police violence. About one third of the people in the church pews got on their feet.
The chief of police was visibly exhausted after his evasive promises of a thourough investigations and better communication were met with booing, hissing and sarcastic laughter.
Diantha had given Charlie Beck credit for showing up at the meeting and I wanted to talk with her afterwards but she had left before it ended.
I am glad she decided to talk with me. I will never forget her story. I will never forget how little I know about those who live around me in this city. I will never forget how different life can be depending which neighborhood you live in. I will never forget how fortunate I am as a reporter to go out and collect stories to tell them. I wish everybody would do more of that to help us better understand each other.
Most of all I will never forget to approach a stranger with kindness because I never know what her story will be.
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