All this time that we’ve reported on law enforcement killing unarmed civilians, and there are times I feel overwhelmed because the cases, and knowledge of cases, come faster than I can keep up. Because of new situations almost weekly, if not daily, it’s also difficult to follow-up on cases previously reported.
There are times I feel hopeless because each time we think we have an answer to reduce or stop the number of police involved shootings of unarmed citizens, we find the end result is always up to a human being who listens to the story of the cop who fired the gun. The living have opportunity to say what they thought and felt. The dead do not.
I cry. This time, I cry for Dillon Taylor and I also cried for Bron Cruz, the cop that killed him. I cried for Cruz because he wanted so badly for Dillon to be armed, that while Dillon’s blood was running like a river, and he went into seizure, that did not hinder Cruz from searching Dillon not once, but twice. I cried for Cruz because he planted seeds of blame in his garden of life rather than seeds of compassion.