When the news that a groom was shot in New York City by police just hours before his wedding came across my television screen I found myself saying “Please don’t let that man be black”.
Please, please…oh please don’t let him be any shade of brown.
My reaction was instantaneous…my mind automatically reverted to a rejection of the probable and a hope that this would not be another incident of brown as suspect.
Because brown as suspect makes suspects out of my brother…my cousins…my friends.
Please don’t let him be unarmed.
Brown as suspect is what sometimes keeps me up at night...makes me fret over the what ifs...has bullets fly before reason sets in and keeps them flying when training requires otherwise.
So my mind raced, as if thinking could influence what already was…as if hoping against hope could turn back time and alter reality.
Oh, please don’t let the police be out of uniform.
This script is so predictable…so awful and predictable.
Chant it…say it…think it, over and over...please….no….please…no….please, oh please….no.
Gawd, oh gawd.
50 odd shots...Sean Bell shot and dead at 23…the night before his wedding.
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