Police Shootings In My Family– Anthony Hill

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I used to be like most people. I thought the news reports about police shootings were sensationalism, trying to generate clickbait for profit. We thought we were immune, for no other reason than we watched these events unfold on a screen, the same screen that showed us far-fetched soap operas and sitcoms. On March 9, I found out how very wrong I was as our family’s world was changed forever. But first, some background on why I was so unprepared.

Right after Michael Brown was shot in Ferguson, I sat down to write a post about how the notion of “white privilege” may affect my multiracial children. I wanted to concentrate on things that affected us in everyday life, not what I thought was a highly unlikely police shooting.

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I thought our family was immune to police shootings. I was wrong.

For example, that certain medical guidelines are not geared for people of color — something my husband and I found out the hard way when he was diagnosed with prostate cancer the day before our first son’s first Christmas five years ago, despite nurses reassuring us he had good PSA (blood) levels and no symptoms. We were shocked, sitting in the cold waiting room, hands linked and staring at the dingy square tiles, the doctor kindly explaining to us that current research indicates the acceptable PSA level is lower in black and/or Hispanic men. The “old numbers” were due to statistical skewing leading to more “false positives” in an older study that under-represented African-American men — not intentional racism by the medical community, rather systematic. He reassured us there is a push to educate all non-specialists in the medical field of the new acceptable PSA levels, but not in time for us. Something that has made my husband battle for his life, directly affected our fertility, not to mention robbing my sons of meeting their grandfather, who died of prostate cancer exactly 18 months prior to my husband’s diagnosis. Prostate cancer that was caught too late to be prevented. Still, I pray that their education efforts work, and everyone gets screened in a timely fashion.

Or, having to worry about their perceived behavior by teachers, specifically in regards to suspension even at the preschool level. While black children represent 18 percent of preschool enrollment, they make up 48 percent of preschool children receiving more than one out-of-school suspension. Or the higher incidence of students of color being suspended — or even arrested — at any grade level. A 2014 study indicates that children of color are often perceived (by a mostly white group of young women) as being older than they actually are by an average of 4.5 years, and therefore thought to be “less innocent” and punished as such.

It seemed like in this day and age, though blatant racism still exists and is cause for concern, my main worry for my sons focused on microaggressions (unintentional discrimination), especially with their health.

So, not the extreme scenario of police shootings. I had heard the sad story of Tamir Rice, a 12-year-old boy who was shot to death when a police officer confused his toy with a real gun. Officer Timothy Loehmann shot him within two seconds of getting out of the squad car. There was a few minutes’ lag in applying first aid. Like many of the subjects in the previous study, he grossly overestimated Rice’s age as 20, a young adult. Sadder still, Officer Loehmann had resigned another police department after he was deemed unfit for duty due to his emotional state while handling firearms. And while unarmed white men are also shot by police, data analyzed in a 2012 FBI report indicates young black men are 21 times more likely to be shot by police.

My Illusions of Safety are Shattered

Despite all this, I still felt my sons were safe. It seemed so far removed, so unlikely. In my mind, as likely to happen as the remote possibility of an meteorite striking the exact position in which I am standing.

Until.

Until March 9, when I was laughing with my boys and husband as we walked back in our house, returning from the chiropractor. Our phones had been off during the appointment, and my mother called with a vague message in regards to my 26-year-old nephew.

Tony helped us celebrate our marriage as a groomsmen.
Tony (left) helped us celebrate our marriage as a groomsman.

Your mother-in-law called. She was too upset to talk much, but she said Tony’s dead. He was shot. Please break it to your husband gently.

I froze in my tracks as my boys trooped in the house, gleeful with childish laughter. The world warped — became sharper, most intense in color. I took a deep breath, walked inside, and managed to keep a steady voice as I sent my boys out to play in the backyard. I told my husband to sit down, and I told him. There were lots of questions, who? why? His phone rang — one of his older brothers. He relayed to me that a police officer shot Tony in Atlanta.

I gasped with the shock. It was like he died twice.

My poor, sweet nephew. He had worked so hard to try and promote racial harmony, particularly in regards to the police, on his social media accounts. Tony had interned with the local sheriff department right after high school. He was a U.S. Air Force veteran that won awards for bravery in Operation Freedom. He came back a changed man. Not changed for the worse — on the contrary, his goal in life was to encourage, despite (or perhaps due to) seeing children die in Afghanistan. I saw him do it time and again.

He was kind and empathetic. Only 26, not solely caught up in his own life, but dedicated to making the world a better place, and actively walking the walk. Tony was Christian, and also embraced the New Age notion of being an “Indigo child”. My husband always described him as a Flower Child of the gentlest spirit.

Now he’s a viral hashtag. #anthonyhill #antlanta #justiceforanthonyhill. Gone are the life and laughter of the grown man whose life was cut too short. A son, a brother, a nephew, a cousin, a friend, a veteran, a talented musician, a fine Christian man.

Tony's neighbors light candles for him every night. Tony's mom and grandmother walk up to see their memorial for him for the first time.
Tony’s neighbors light candles for him every night. He used to pick up trash around the apartment complex. He strived to be a good role model for the kids there, and get the community active. He would play basketball and skateboard with his neighbors. They also taught him how to swim and dive. Tony’s mom and grandmother walk up to see their memorial for him for the first time.

How My Nephew Died

My understanding of the situation is this, though please understand I don’t have any inside knowledge of the investigation, nor do I have authority to officially make statements on behalf of the family. All of the following information can be obtained from the hundreds of media reports.

Tony had a manic episode, and had taken off his clothes at his Atlanta apartment complex, walking around and knocking on doors. Nothing violent. He was a popular guy at the complex, as he had taken it upon himself to pick up the trash there despite no one asking, being a role model for others to make it a cleaner place too. He successfully encouraged the children to go into the fresh air, to play and make friends together. When his neighbors saw him acting this way, they tried to return the favor by gently urging him to go back to his apartment and get help. Tony told them, “I’m good, I’m good,” but his eyes were distant. The rental office called and requested an ambulance. The police came first.

The officer did not talk much, did not really try to engage him to calm him down past an officious, “Do you need help?” He claimed Tony “charged” him, though some neighbors insist he had his hands up/out and he was at a “fast walk.” Though Tony was obviously unarmed, the officer bypassed his taser and pepper spray, reaching for his gun. He shot him twice in the chest.

Tony bled to death alone in the hard parking lot.

And now we grieve. We also worry how this affects or will affect my kids.

My son spent his 6th birthday at his cousin Tony's funeral, an unarmed victim of police shooting.
My son spent his 6th birthday at the funeral of his cousin Tony, an unarmed victim of police shooting.

Grief and Mourning

My husband and I decided to only give our sons the basics on how Tony died. He’s in Heaven, not in pain, living in love. We talked with them driving down to the funeral a little about how it happened, mentioning it was an “accidental” gun shot. I couldn’t think of an age-appropriate way to explain a police killing their unarmed cousin. We talked a bit more about being multiracial and what it means in our family. My husband didn’t want them to know it was a police officer that killed their cousin by “accident”… he didn’t want them to be scared of the police.

But they picked up on it anyway, of course.

My six-year-old has been asking me why this happened, and how are the police are “good guys” when they killed his big cousin?

What if they are too scared to go to the police for help, if Heaven help us they should ever need it? And I fear what will happen as they are teenagers. Will they have an anger burning inside that may lead them to harm? God forbid, will they have to deal with this themselves?

Night after night since Tony’s death I have suffered sleep paralysis. But it’s much better than the realistic dreams where I watch my sons getting shot to death. Where I scream out and cannot stop it, or even move to comfort them as they bleed to death. I wake up sobbing half from terror, half from relief it was just a dream. And, at least in the early days, it was better than the intensity of awakening in an unjust and cruel world.

Now it’s here in our own back yards in South Carolina. A police officer shooting a man in the back eight times and trying to set him up to look as if he was attacking him? Over a broken tail light?

Why Does This Happen?

I know police shootings are not a new thing. Even at Tony’s funeral, one of the speakers revealed that he had lost a son to a police officer’s bullet years before. Is it a “race” thing? It seems to be the most hotly debated topic in America at the moment. All I can say is I don’t think it is overtly intentional in this century, though the numbers certainly indicate so.

Tony holds one of my sons, one his many cousins.
Tony holds one of my sons, one his many cousins.

Whether it is, like this study indicates, an “unconscious dehumanization,” a superhumanization bias,  or microaggression of the deadliest form, I cannot say. My intent is not to “stir the pot,” but to try and tell our story to make a safer place for all of our children.

When you advocate for improving the police, you help the police AND the victims. When you speak up and say, “Hey, these tragic shootings should not be happening,” you are drawing attention to the fact that the police should get more funding for better training, better defensive weapons and gear, and even counseling for the PTSD they may suffer from their dangerous jobs. When the police benefit, so do the citizens.

What officer wants to carry the yoke of killing an innocent young man? How is this fair to the officers? They’re people too; they chose a dangerous job to protect and serve.

Striving for Compassion — and Change

I don’t know Officer Robert Olson, who killed Tony. But when I hear he administered first aid immediately, or possibly went off to the side of the parking lot and cried … I imagine he did not want this either. And maybe his fellow officers are trying to support him, telling him, “You did what you thought was right. You can’t look back on that, or second-guess yourself.” But those can be empty words to those suffering from PTSD, from unintentionally taking an innocent young life.

Tony was a US Air Force veteran, medically retired. He had to fight repeatedly with the VA to schedule his appointments, despite his documented "medical retirement". This is not okay to treat our veterans this way.
Tony was a decorated US Air Force veteran, medically retired. He had to fight repeatedly with the VA to schedule his appointments, despite his documented “medical retirement.” This is not okay to treat our veterans this way.

I don’t know if Officer Olson goes home to young children running to him with outstretched arms and excitedly chanting “Daddy! Daddy!,” or if he spends his evenings drinking in strip clubs. It matters not. This will haunt Robert Olson for the rest of his life.

When I speak up for Tony, I speak up for Officer Olson as well. I speak up for my kids, for all of our kids. Our fates are tied as long as we share the Earth. This was something Tony embraced and shared. He was wise well beyond his years. He spent much time advocating for the police, spreading love and awareness … but yet, when he was in reality a wounded warrior crying out from battle scars, to the system he was still another faceless black man probably hyped up on drugs. And he was shot to death. Despite his efforts, he died alone at the hands of a police officer when he most needed help.

Nowhere feels safe for my sons. My mother’s fight-or-flight instinct has activated, and I can do neither. How can a mother bear it? I know I must prepare my sons for this world, and it breaks my heart to think I will have to burst (what’s left of) the bubble of childhood’s innocence to protect them. Mothers have been doing this since the beginning of humankind. But it is no less heartbreaking.

16 COMMENTS

  1. Very well written, family! Thanks for sharing your thoughts about our family with the world. Tony was a good man, a good cousin,a good role model… He was just an all around good guy. Thanks for sharing!

  2. It is refreshing to read a piece that’s not only well written, but calm and collected too. So often a well-intentioned message gets lost in the anger or grief. Thank you for sharing.

  3. I am so, so sorry for your family’s loss but glad that you are shedding light on what has shockingly been revealed as a full blown epidemic of racial profiling and murder by the people who are supposed to protect us all … EQUALLY. It breaks my heart and sickens me to know that so many of us are being blindsided by what has apparently been happening for a long time.

  4. These are scary times in which we live. I have young sons and I often worry about their safety. I take solace in God and I know He is covering them.

    Well-written piece. Thank you for sharing!

    • Thank you so much for your kind words! Best of luck for your precious sons as they travel through life and thank you for your prayers. 🙂

  5. I am a white mother of a white daughter and I know in my heart the unmentionable fears that I have for her. I can’t bear to imagine the dark place people go when they lose their children. News stories fill me with dread and yet, every time one of these shootings of unarmed, young black men occur, all too frequently, I realize that the mother of black children, sons in particular, have all of the normal mom-worries that I do, plus another granite truckload of worry that these very real and possible horrors might happen to their child. I don’t know what to do for mothers of black sons. Their fears are unspeakable. I have been horrified by every single incident you mention, particularly Tamir Rice, and I don’t know what to do. Maybe mothers of all colors have to band together somehow. Peace to your family.

    • Thank you for your sweet words of solace and well wishes. Best of luck to your daughter as she navigates through life. May she retain at least half her mother’s sense of empathy, she will do well! 🙂

  6. I’m so sorry for your family’s loss. This is an important issue for all races, it effects all of us one or another! Whether it’s higher taxes to pay for jails, bad cops, or endless court dramas, or for fewer taxes needed for schools, libraries, and community centers. We get it, I get it. Thank you for sharing your powerful story.

  7. Thank you for telling his story. It is one I hope many others will read and gain knowledge, as well as understanding. You wrote through a gut wrenching pain, several. From a diagnosis, to losing a treasured member of your family. I offer my condolences to your family. I can’t say ‘thank you’ enough in sharing your words, your emotions. You shared a piece into a human life, taken away too early, and allowed us to know him as the true person he was. Thank you.

  8. Oh where to begin? I am so very sorry for your loss. But that sounds so trite. So off the cuff. What a tragic, nonsensical death. Tony sounds like such a gem. May you and your family gather strength from your memories.

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