This scene did not make it into the final version of the story, but it gives a great sense of the atmosphere inside the room and of the ultimate things at stake. I wrote about the two speakers featured here in another story for San Francisco back in 2012: No Escape, No Surrender.
Death and the Mothers: Inside an Oakland Ceasefire Call-in
Ever so gradually,
you begin to sense that there is another crucial message being
communicated at the call-in. It's not about law enforcement, not even
necessarily about putting the guns down or getting a job, but about
choosing between your own life or death. It starts when the focus
shifts to Marilyn Harris, who lost her only son to the gun in Oakland
back in 2000. Harris is also a service provider who steps into the
immediate aftermath of homicides, often at the very crime scene, to
aid families of the killed. In fourteen years, she has helped
thousands of victims' family members in Oakland at the moment of
their rawest grief. "You don't want to see me," she says.
"Your mother doesn't want to see me. Because if I show up, it
means you're dead." It's a fundamental point to make and a key
finding of Ceasefire's data analysis: these young men are not only
the most violent, they are also the most vulnerable to violence.
Late in the meeting,
in the pregnant silence after DA Creighton and other law enforcement
speakers have made their threats, the theme of death is revisited.
Kevin Grant scrambles under a table and takes the center of the
room. He is the one speaker who is given no time limit. Grant spent 17 years
in 11 different federal prisons. Some of
those years were for crimes committed on the streets of Oakland. Now
his is the one voice that everyone in the city—the police, the
politicians, the prosecutors and the street— listens to. To the young men he
drives home a simple point, one gleaned from attending the
sites of countless homicides as the city's premier gang intervention
specialist: You are the ones who will end up on the ground.
"The sheet they
put over the body is always too short," he says, "so
there's always those shoes sticking out." Sometimes the victim’s
mother shows up and when she sees the shoes, she knows that it's her
son on the ground and her grief comes sudden and loud and
excruciating.
He asks the guys,
"What if that was you? What if that was your mom? And listen to
this: What if God came down to you and said, 'You know what, I feel
bad about this. You're still dead, but I'm gonna give you 60 more
seconds with your mom to say whatever you want to say.'"
Grant walks to their places at the tables, looks at each young
man and, one-by-one, asks him, "What would you say?"
Some tell him they
would say "I love you."
“What about ‘I'm
sorry?'" says Grant, with a hint of impatience, perhaps even a
tinge of anger in his voice. And they nod, all but two of them,
sitting near each other at one corner of the square, easily the
youngest looking guys in the room. One is like no other participant
I've seen at the call-ins I've attended. Throughout the meeting he
has stared off into some undetermined space, into the shadows at the
edges of the otherwise bright room. He has hardly paid any attention
to any speaker. He looks lost, distraught, or possibly high. Others
tell me they think he might have been mentally disabled. He responds
to Grant's question with the barest nod then returns to his private
place.
The other one has
held his phone under the table and worked it through much of the
meeting. He shrugs off Grant's question, while in a folding chair
behind him sits his mother, crying.
It is a quietly devastating scene, hopeless even. But later, after the meeting, I see one of the pastors talking to the kid and his mom. Then I see Grant in a conversation with them. It is one of the great moments of a call-in, when the formal part is over and the preachers, the social workers and the former victims begin the hard work of urging these young men into a different life. It is an encounter only Ceasefire could make happen, so long as Ceasefire survives.
Also see: Retaliatory: Street corner confrontations and Operation Ceasefire in Oakland
Also, the October 2014 San Francisco article is out: Guns Down. Don't Shoot.
It is a quietly devastating scene, hopeless even. But later, after the meeting, I see one of the pastors talking to the kid and his mom. Then I see Grant in a conversation with them. It is one of the great moments of a call-in, when the formal part is over and the preachers, the social workers and the former victims begin the hard work of urging these young men into a different life. It is an encounter only Ceasefire could make happen, so long as Ceasefire survives.
Also see: Retaliatory: Street corner confrontations and Operation Ceasefire in Oakland
Also, the October 2014 San Francisco article is out: Guns Down. Don't Shoot.
I just read the addendum, and youre right, a more positive ending. I'm curious, why the decision, or even contemplation, to leave it out?
ReplyDeleteI was there at the same call-in, I remember the same two young men. I agree that the conversations that happen afterwards between the young folks called-in and the service providers and faith-workers are a critical piece of the agenda. I would argue, possibly the most important piece, since that's when the connections to resources get established, when the relationships begin to get forged. As the final portion of the evening, it's the last impression the young men leave with, and the only time, really, when they're given a sense of hope and possibility. Without these, how can change occur? Without this last paragraph/addendum, I feel the scene you describe is incomplete.
Just my two cents.
Thanks for your comment. There are always impossible decisions to make with a limited amount of space in print. No one wanted to cut this scene, but I promise the final version will discuss extensively the role and work of service providers in Ceasefire and will include scenes of their interactions with the participants. Thanks for reading!
ReplyDeleteJ O'B.
Oakland
Nice, I look forward to the final, larger piece. Thanks for your attention and work on this incredibly important issue - the repairing of our communities and the saving of lives.
ReplyDelete