The Hottest Week In July Part I: The Shooting

Part I: The Shooting

(This story may contain language offensive to some. Parental discretion is advised)

Tragedy is always an unwelcomed guest on the journey of life; striking suddenly and without warning. One moment you are blithely living under the illusion that you are immune to life’s harsh realities. Then in an instant your illusion is exposed as a fraud. What seemed to you so certain becomes blurred in a way that only tragedy can obscure. Your identity is fractured, and you are forced to rebuild. That is what happened to me on a random day in July.

It was the summer before my senior year of high school. The heat was the hottest I had ever experienced in my life, and that week was the hottest in July. As long as I live I will never forget that summer. And though I have tried, I can’t erase that week. It started on a typical Monday. Nothing seemed out of place or odd, except for the scorching heat. It was almost too hot to go outside, but undaunted children persisted in their play. They played carefree in the streets, glad to be out of school and from the watchful eyes of their parent.

I was walking home from the library, one of my favorite places. The library was off of Pine Grove Street, but on the east side. Pine Grove was the physical manifestation of Dubois’ color line. The more west one heads, the darker the pigment of the citizens became and sadly the more improvised the neighborhoods got. When one crosses over Orange Avenue heading east, the pigment lightens and the resources poured into communities is noticeably greater. The library was on the side with more resources and less pigment.

My home was close enough to the east side to be considered the suburbs, but we were not exactly miles away from the west. In fact, we were only a few blocks from what people would consider “the hood.” My parents moved us east a few years back, hoping to make life better for us. But when your pigment is of a dark hue, no suburb in America can keep you safe from certain injustices.

Walking home I ran into Raheem. Raheem and I went back to my days further west on Pine Grove. We went to elementary and middle school together until I moved. Failing to see the relevance of school, he frequently got in trouble. In talking to him, however, I could tell he was just as smart as the gifted kids I had class with. I just wished the teachers saw pass his behavioral problems, which were really just a result of his boredom of the material that did not challenge him. Despite what our teachers thought, Raheem was one of the sweetest people you ever want to meet. Unfortunately, that was all too often lost on people who chose to judge him based on the exterior.

He was also not the most eloquent of speakers, but the substance of who he was and what he had to say surpassed the greatest intellectuals I encountered. While his outfits could be taken a few sizes down and he could benefit from a belt, it did not take away from the kind heart hidden beneath his clothes. Like most citizens of the world, he desired the best for himself and his family. As he approached me that day, I saw his kind heart waiting to greet me.

“Hey B! What’s good wit ya?”

“Nothing much. Just leaving the library and heading home.”

“Oh that’s right! You’re like one of those, umm, eggshells. You love them books. I guess that’s why you so smart and stuff.”

“You mean eggheads.”

“Huh?” Raheem was confused by my correction. “You said I’m an eggshell, but the correct word is egghead.” Raheem let out a long “oh” indicating he understood. “See, that’s why you so smart. Thanks for correcting a brotha. Yes, you’re my pretty egghead friend.” He placed an emphasis on the corrected word. “ Why you going home? You should come hang out with me and Ricky. We might catch a movie or hit up the arcade.”

Blushing from his compliment, I assured Raheem that he was just as smart as I was, but that it just came out differently. I also told him that I had to decline the invitation. My younger brother Christopher was coming home from summer camp really soon and I had to watch him while my parents were at work. I could tell he was disappointed, but he refused to pressure me any further. We hugged and said goodbye. I walked away with the usual confidence you have when saying goodbye to friends, assured that we would speak again soon. Little did I know that this brief conversation would be our last.

—

Christopher was dropped off about fifteen minutes after I got home from the library. Almost immediately he stepped into the house and started annoying me as only an eight year old brother can.

“Can I go outside to ride my bike?”

“No Christopher. You know you’re not allowed to go outside to play when mom and dad aren’t here.”

“Please? If you don’t tell I won’t tell. I promise to keep quiet.”

I knew that was a setup. The last time Christopher made such a promise I ended up grounded for a whole month. I let him watch a rated R movie on television after he assured me that he would not say a word to anyone. Ever! However, the next day he told his friend James about the movie. The only problem was that this conversation happened well within earshot of James’ mother. When I heard his mom ask my mom if she knew Christopher had watched the movie, I knew I was in trouble. I vowed then to never let Christopher dupe me with his promises again.

“No Christopher. You’re not going outside to play. You can watch tv, read a book or shut up. But what you’re not going to do is go outside.” I said sternly. “Ugh! I can’t stand you! You make me sick!” Christopher exclaimed as he stormed upstairs. “Well go see a doctor.” I retorted to him as he left.

For the next three hours Christopher stayed hidden until our mom came home. She arrived before our father.  In those three hours I caught up on my favorite television series and started the latest book I checked out from the library.

While I was reading and catching up on television, Raheem and Ricky were at the movies watching the latest sci-fi flick. They loved sci-fi! Raheem once explained to me how sci-fi is not just about weird monsters and aliens. It is often a metaphor for life; it provides an alternative explanation or way of understanding what occurs on earth. He warned me if I get too bogged down in the oddity of the genre then I will miss the greater message.  Although he was persuasive, I still could not get pass the scary monsters and aliens. I preferred mysteries and historical works.

After the movies Raheem and Ricky decided to go get some food at the nearest fast food restaurant. It was not quite dark, and they wanted to get food and go home before it was too late. According to eye witness testimony, this is where the incident started.

Raheem was in a good mood when he entered the restaurant. As he went inside he saw Marques and his homeboys congregating in a corner of the restaurant. Marques and Raheem had beef since I can remember. I am not sure what started the feud, but they were dedicated to keeping it up. However, this day Raheem decided that it was too hot to fight, and wanted to quickly get his food and run. Marques, on the other hand, responded to the heat differently.

“What your punk ass doing in here?!”

“Man, go on! I’m just trying to get some food. I aint trying to mess with you right now.”

“Just like I thought. A true punk ass nigga. You aint got your normal crew with you so now you want to back down. Nah, nigga. Don’t run now.”

“Aint nobody running. And ain’t nobody scared of you. It’s too hot for all this right now. Me and my boy are just trying to get some food and mind our business.” Raheem said this as calmly as he could muster, belying the anger boiling inside.

“Me and my boy just want some food,” Marques said in a mocking manner. “What? Are yall out on a date?”

As Marques continued to mock Raheem, Raheem’s anger grew hotter, but he tried to remain cool. Witnesses stated that they could tell Raheem did not want any trouble, but Marques was persistent as a tick tormenting a helpless dog. He continued in his ridicule; this time it was against Raheem’s mother.

“That’s right! Stay silent! Just like your mom did when your father left yall.” The room instantly filled with the verbal gasps and reactions of those witnessing the altercation. Marques was quite pleased with himself as he high-fived his homeboys.

Finally Raheem could keep silent no longer, he had to repay this verbal assault with an equally damaging verbal assault. “Well at least my mom knows who my father is. Unlike your hoe ass motha who still trying to find men to take paternity tests so she can collect a child support check. She should probably start with the trash man cuz I heard that you look just like him. Maybe if she would stop laying on her back like a little hoe and acted like a motha, you’d know your daddy.”

For a moment everyone in the restaurant was shocked into silence as they processed the brutality of the blistering verbal attack.  The crowd was only thrown from its trance when someone shouted, “Daaaamn!” They were now in an uproar as they surrounded the two men. Even his homeboys said nothing. They could only hold their hands to their mouth, half out of shock and half out of respect for the quality of insult Raheem just gave.

Marques was hot, and he got hotter as the crowd laughed louder at him. His anger fueled not so much by the insult, but by its truth. Everyone knew the situation with Marques’ mother, and how at nearly 18 years old he still did not know who his father was. The issue was a sensitive matter for him to put it lightly. A private comment of a similar nature would have set him off, but to do so publicly sent his anger into the galaxy.

Filled with embarrassment and unable to think of an adequate response, he responded like many men before him.  He threw a punch. It landed on the left side of Raheem’s jaw. Reflexively Raheem threw a punch hitting Marques in the nose. Before anyone could intervene further, the two boys were fighting. Pandemonium broke out in the restaurant as the store manager tried to break up the fight by making verbal commands. Predictably, the two boys did not stop and the manager threatened to call the cops. Everyone began to pull out their phones to record the chaos unfolding on the restaurant’s dirty floor.

Raheem was getting the best of Marques, until Marques’ homeboys joined in. Ricky joined in to even out the fight, but it was no use because there were far more with Marques. As the brawl continued, someone from the crowd shouted, “He’s got a gun!” This only further increased the chaos. After the dust settled, it would be discovered that this was a deliberately false statement made by a patron trying to scare them into breaking up the fight. Everyone began to run out of the restaurant, including Raheem, Ricky, Marques and his homeboys. Initially Raheem was running to escape a perceived gun threat. Once he was outside he realized he was also running from Marques who was not ready to let the insult go.

Raheem ran across the street from the restaurant, behind the drug store. Ricky ran behind the restaurant. Ricky had hoped that the split would confuse Marques and cause him to give up, but it only made him narrow in on Raheem. His homeboys ran after Ricky.

Barely able to catch his breath, Marques still managed to yell out, “I’mma get your little bitch ass! Why you running? Don’t run. Let’s finish this thing out like a man!”

Raheem did not respond, he was too focused on running away to think of a slick comeback. He ran full speed ahead, checking over his shoulder every few seconds. By now he was in an alley behind buildings about fifty feet ahead of Marques. The alley was dark with the exception of a few street lights that provided dim lighting. It dead ended just a few feet from the corner of Pine Grove Street and Orange Avenue. Raheem lived west on Pine Grove, about two miles from my house. We live on Lakewood Avenue, which is a street off of Pine Grove. He was hoping to get to as close to his home as he could before Marques reached him.

Raheem ran to the end of the alley and made a sharp left, turning west onto Pine Grove towards his home. Unbeknownst to him, when he ran out of the alley, there was a cop car sitting perpendicular to the direction he ran, at the corner of Pine Grove and Orange. The cop was Officer George Daren.

Officer Daren was a five year veteran of the force, who grew up east on Pine Grove. If you were to ask him if he was racist, he would give an emphatic no. After all, he voted for Obama, and admired Black people like Martin Luther King Jr. and Oprah. His depth of familiarly with the black community or black issues did not expand beyond those figures, however.  He did not seem to know or care.

More importantly, lurking deep in Officer Daren’s subconscious was a heightened suspicion of black people, particularly black men. In one respect it really was not his fault; he had merely been an excellent student of the lessons taught by society. This suspicion caused most of his encounters with blacks to be hostile. However, given the subconscious nature of his suspicion, he was blinded to this correlation. As a result, he continued with the faulty belief that his previous hostile encounters justify all subsequent hostile encounters. He did not realize he was perpetuating a self fulfilling prophecy.

Officer Daren was on patrol when he saw Raheem dart from the alley. Triggered by his subconscious, he immediately became suspicious. He turned his sirens on and sped toward Raheem. The sound of the sirens caused Marques to stop in his tracks. Not yet out of the alley, he tried to catch his breath as he waited to see where the sirens were coming from. Within a few seconds he saw Officer Daren’s car speed past the entrance of the alley heading in the direction of Raheem. Marques knew that his chase was over. If he continued, he would quickly find himself being chased, or worse. He hid in the alley until he thought it was safe.  He then turned in the opposite direction and headed toward his house.

Raheem looked over his shoulder when he heard the sirens. It was the cops. “Are they chasing me?” He asked himself. “I haven’t done anything wrong except defend myself.” The officer made no command to help clarify. Instantly fear rushed over him. If he just stops running, the cops will find this suspicious. If he continues to run, the cops will find this suspicious. He knew if he stopped where he was, there would be no witnesses to protect him. His home was too far away. The cops would surround him by then. So instead he went to the next safest place he could think of, my street. He wanted to be where he knew his people were and could protect him. Lakewood was the next street off of Pine Grove, and he again made a sharp left.

“Back up! Back up! I need back up at Pine Grove and Lakewood. I’m heading west on Pine Grove. Suspect has turned south onto Lakewood.” Officer Daren shouted into his radio. “Looks like I may have interrupted the suspect’s burglary or robbery attempt. May be armed.”

Officer Beth McGrin was only a few blocks away, along with Officer Matthew Clark. They flipped on their sirens and headed toward Lakewood Avenue. Raheem heard the increased siren noise coupled with the sound of speeding cars coming from behind him. He did not know what was about to happen, but he knew it was not going to be good. As he ran he saw people in the distance. This brought him hope that perhaps he would survive what was to come.

—

The sun was setting and I was standing outside in the middle of the street with my best friend, Denisha. We were standing in the middle of the street, getting ready to say good night. My mom allowed me to be outside until the sun sets, but only in the summer and only when she or my dad are home.

It was getting late, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my mom came out fussing. We were making our plans for tomorrow and saying goodbye when we heard what sounded like an army of cop sirens heading in our direction. Then out of nowhere, we saw Raheem running down the street. Trailing behind him were the lights of at least three cop cars lighting up the night.

Denisha and I looked at each other with a mixture of confusion and fear. Why were these cops chasing Raheem down the street?

“What’s going on? Is that Raheem?” Denisha asked in rapid fire. “I have no idea. I’m going to go get my parents.” I ran to my home and burst into the door like a Tasmanian devil.

“Why are you opening my door like that?” My mom scolded from the kitchen. “Mom! Dad! The police are trying to get Raheem. Come outside quick!” I screamed with great terror in my voice.

“What do you mean they’re trying to get Raheem?” My dad asked with a puzzled look on his face as he emerged from the kitchen.

“Don’t you hear those sirens? That is them chasing Raheem. Please, you got to come help. You know the police love to shoot us and ask questions later.”

Both of my parents stopped completely what they were doing and started toward the front door. But before we could get out the front door again we were frozen with the horror of the sounds coming simultaneously from outside.

“Stop where you are!”

Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow!

When the gunshots stopped, I darted to the door. My father tried to stop me, but I escaped his grasp before he could grab me back inside. We all ran to the street and I screamed as I saw Raheem’s body lying face down in the road.

“Did you shoot him?! Did you shoot him?!” I demanded. Terror rose in the face of my mother. She and my father tried to calm me for fear that I may end up like Raheem.

Startled by my screams, the police turned in our direction, pointing their guns at us. “Stay back! Stay back!” Shouted Officer Daren. Reflectively, we raised our hands and began to plead our innocence.

“Officer, we have done nothing wrong. We are concerned citizens coming to see what happened on our street.” My father said in the most assuring and calm voice he could muster. I don’t think his attempt at assuaging the officer’s fears worked however. Officer Daren yelled again.

“Just stay back. This is our investigation. Don’t interfere or we could have you arrested.”

“Did you shoot him?!” I screamed again. This time my father grabbed me and gave me a stern look as he told me to shut my mouth. I never saw my father look at me that way. It was an odd combination of anger and fear. He was angry with the cops for shooting Raheem without cause, and angry with me for behaving in a manner that may get me killed in a similar fashion. But most of all, I believe he was angry because he felt completely powerless to protect me. His look further infuriated me, but also caused me to keep quiet.

“We are not trying to interfere, but only here to observe,” my father offered more as an olive branch.

The other officers were coming up to join Officer Daren at this point. They approached Raheem laying still on the ground. He was lifeless, a pool of blood forming around his body. It was clear that he had been shot several times in the back. Instead of checking his vitals and administering aid, they grab his arms and handcuff him. Only after the last click is heard, do I hear them call for a paramedic. My anger was burning inside me. I was about to have another outburst when I heard what sounded like gargling noise.

I turned my head in the direction of the noise. Horrified, I saw my friend Denisha lying face up in the street coughing up blood. We were so caught up in what happened to Raheem, we failed to see that he was not the only victim. I ran to her.  I opened my mouth to scream, but this time no words came out, only painful moans. My screams must have scared everyone within earshot, because they all jumped a little as they turned in my direction.

I fell down beside Denisha and held her in my arms. “Oh my God!! Nisha!! No! No!! Hold on ‘Nisha! Hold on! We’re going to get help! You hear me? Don’t let go!” She just stared up at me with a blank look.

“HELP! HELP!” I pleaded to everyone and yet no one in particular. My stomach sank to the bottom of my toes. I knew this did not look good. By this time most of my neighbors were outside observing the scene.   I began to cry uncontrollably, going from pleading for help to comforting Denisha. My parents and other neighbors were surrounding me; trying to comfort me because they already knew what I refused to accept.

The police, seemed more concerned at first about securing Raheem that they did not notice the commotion around Denisha. “What are they doing over there?” Officer McGrin asked the other officers. “I don’t know. I’m going to go check it out. Make sure the suspect is secure.” Officer Daren said in the officers’ huddle before walking away.

He made his way to the crowd growing around Denisha. Moments before he approached Denisha made a loud gasping noise, then closed her eyes and fell silent. I tried feverishly to wake her again! “ ‘Nisha! ‘Nisha! ‘Nisha! Wake up! Don’t go!” It was no use, she was gone. I began to howl! My soul ached. I knew it would be a long time before I would not feel this pain. I held my friend tightly when Officer Daren arrived and realized the full extent of his target practice.

“FUCK! Where did she come from?” He asked in horror. “I didn’t do this? Did I?” His face was filled with remorse, but not the type of remorse from killing an innocent person. Rather it was the type of remorse one feels when they wish to avoid the repercussions of their actions.

I knew then that finding justice for Raheem and Denisha would be a hard fight. But I would soon find out just how hard that fight would be when I read the police reports.