little lights

XXVI

Dear Officer Darren Wilson,

I've never met you, but the fact that I assume you're a racist asshole from what I know about you means we probably wouldn't hit it off at a wine and cheese party. It really bothers me that you got away with everything you did, because no matter which perspective you see it from, it is your fault that a person is dead, and last time I checked, that was illegal.

I hope that you find it hard to sleep at night. I hope you hear the eyewitness accounts in the hollows of your thoughts, and I hope the empty spaces in your vision are filled with images of Michael Brown's scared eyes. Because, I promise, he was so much more scared in that moment than you will ever be.

I hope you feel bad about lying. I hope you learn what it means to feel true remorse-- not for your personal life or future in your professional life, because reputations fade and people will forget your name eventually. But I hope, and I am not religious, but I pray that they will not forget his. I hope his name is all you think about. I hope you moan it when you stub your toe, because you should associate what you did to him with pain. I hope you ask for forgiveness forever, and you will never get it from me, but maybe that will help everyone get a bit of closure.

It bothers me that you are allowing the facts to be skewed. As a former police officer, I would think you'd have a passion for justice, but it seems to me that all you're doing is trying to cover your own ass.

HERE ARE THE FACTS, DARREN.

-Michael Brown was minding his business. He was a gentle soul, by every account of his life up until the moments you stepped into it. His final moments. If anyone was using self defense in this scenario, it sure as hell wasn't you, Darren.

-His only offense was walking in the street. I hardly find that to be a reason to shoot a person in their arms, chest, and head, Darren. Next time you don't feel like using the crosswalk, keep that judgment call in mind.

-You're a racist. You were scared of him, not because of his size or his actions, because of his skin color. We know this because he did nothing wrong. In fact, you were the only person that did something wrong. You broke protocol, failing to call out any real instructions. No "Stop!" or "You're under arrest"? Nothing.

-He didn't rob any stores, he didn't reach for your gun, he didn't run at you when he turned around. The shop owner denies anything was stolen, and ALSO THERE IS SECURITY CAMERA FOOTAGE. Even if he HAD stolen from that store, since when is petty theft punishable by execution in the center of a street without trial? Your gun was put away, in its holster, and from the eyewitness accounts, it sounds like until YOU pulled it, it had not moved from there. In fact, according to three separate people that DON'T EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER, you were still inside your car when your gun made its first appearance, and Michael was running away after he saw it. He didn't rush at you, either, before you play that game with me. From what I gather, after watching and reading several reports of the incident, Darren, is that you just shot at him. No words. You just shot at him, and he turned around, hands in the air, fully surrendered, and asked that you stop shooting. But you didn't. And he is now dead. We know this to be true from the autopsy reports.

-Your story is the only story that has changed. From the moment it happened onward, witnesses from the scene have been listing the story the exact same each time they're asked, whereas everybody that supports your side of the story seems to change their mind each time new evidence is introduced.

So, Darren. With your White Supremacist God Complex Death Sentence fingers, I hope you can still touch your wife and hold her hand and look her in the eyes without seeing Michael's blood each time you blink. Because she deserves better than that. Better than you, and whatever sort of brainwashing must've happened for her to actually stay with you. I hope that relationship is successful, because if anything in this world has changed for the better since 1963, I'd hope that most of your friends and family are planning on cutting ties with you.

I'd like you to know that you make me scared, Darren. You honestly do. Because I live in the suburbs and I dress like I own the entire J Crew catalogue and I wear my hair in pigtails at least once a week, and yet I could still make you fear for your life, and that's ridiculous. What would you have told the court if it was me you executed in the street? You couldn't blame my clothes, you couldn't say you feared for your life, because I am small and short and hardly intimidating. But I'm black, Darren. And I hope that nobody's life is ever in your hands ever again. Because you made a wrong choice, and you continue to make wrong choices.

I hope you know that my younger brother is getting tall. He's only in middle school right now, but he's already taller than I am, and he's got a nice bulk to his shoulders that didn't used to be there before. And even though we play soccer in our cute suburban front yard, and not in the middle of a busy street, I still fear for the both of us every day. Because how am I supposed to feel, if not scared for my life, if you're any indication of how far America has come in the past 50 years?

I'll leave you with a few parting words, America's Police Officer of the Year. If ever there was a time to step back and assess whether you'd like to change your perspective on your political views, now would be that time. And saving your own ass is human instinct, so I can't completely fault you for that, but the fact that you've sucked everyone into this game of making up excuse after excuse for what you did... it doesn't matter if they call it murder in the first degree or manslaughter, if you're not getting jail time for being responsible for the end of another human life, the justice system has failed, and this would never have happened if a black cop killed a white teenage boy. And you know that. And it sickens me that you probably think about that and breathe a sigh of relief. 

Sincerely,

Somebody Who Lives In Constant Fear of Being Murdered or Arrested for Being Black