Gaze even here
January 14, 2014 ~ I have hesitated to post this tonight because I really try to make my posts a place of positive reassurance and comfort. I honestly don't want to share the misery I'm feeling over this story, but I decided the least I could do for this young man was not to turn away from the horror of what happened to him and at least express my grief over it.
In case you need an update, two policemen who beat 37 year old Kelly Thomas to death in 2011 were acquitted of all charges. Kelly had schizophrenia. He was homeless. Even though the beating was taped and the whole thing was played for the jury - every graphic detail - they still acquitted them. These men who are entrusted with public safety but failed to keep Kelly Thomas safe.
There was a suggestion in some of the articles that I read that the police did what they needed to do; that this young man was violent and had attacked his family in the past. But where was the restraint? Where was the good judgment? Where was the compassion for a man who had an illness? And where was the understanding of how that illness was affecting the situation?
His parents said that he didn't understand what the police wanted him to do. I believe that. The last time we flew on an airline, my son went through the security gate but when the alarm went off and the TSA agent called him back, he kept walking. Instead of making her request again a little louder, she got angry and said to him, "I can take you down. Don't make me have to take you down." But as soon as I called his name and told him he needed to walk back through again he was immediately compliant. He either hadn't heard her or hadn't understood. Was this reaction necessary?
I read an article the other day titled "Gaze Even Here" that suggested that when we actively look at ugliness or tragedy that eventually we come to find beauty in it - even joy. In an effort to practice that philosophy, even though I wanted to look away, I forced myself to take this story in.
But I will tell you that there are not enough minutes in the rest of my life for me to look at this situation and find any beauty or joy in it. This morning, when I read about this young man and what happened to him, I physically felt sick. I was horrified. How could this happen? What if this had been my son?
I don't know what to do about it. I suppose there's nothing I CAN do about it.
But I sure wish there was.