Black killings continue after Chauvin verdict. My heart must do the best it can.

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LeTonia Jones
·4 min read
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On April 20, 2021 fired Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin was found guilty on all charges for the murder of George Floyd. More than a week has passed since the Chauvin verdicts and I still feel the same way I felt the day they were delivered. Numb. Derek Chauvin is the first police officer I have seen in my lifetime, both fired and convicted, for murdering a Black man. A victory toward accountability for racist police brutality occurred and I feel numb.

My best friend, Brent called me that day at 3:39 PM. He reminded me that the verdicts were to be read around 5 p.m. I stopped working at 5 p.m. and searched the web for a live stream. I believed I wanted to see the outcome for myself. I also noticed my body was on autopilot. I was there in my office at my computer, but my mind was at my house back in 2020 on the day I watched the video of Derek Chauvin callously and casually squeeze life from George Floyd’s Black body. Then it flashed further back to Ahmaud Arbery’s Black body falling lifeless to the ground in Georgia behind the barrel of a shotgun after he was ambushed by white men. And then it replayed the press conference where, Kentucky’s first Black Attorney General, Daniel Cameron said, “I care deeply about the sanctity of human. It deserves protection.” But then denied the sanctity of Breonna Taylor’s human life, leaving her family without justice. All of these brutal images and sounds went flashing through my head. Then it dawned on me. I had not made attempts to see any of the Chauvin trial before this moment. I am a member of capital defense teams. I am deeply involved in the trial process professionally, and yet, during this monumental trial my body wouldn’t allow me to ingest a single minute. That is, until the verdicts.

I found a live stream of the proceedings. I saw a masked Derek Chauvin seated next to his defense attorney. I read his eyes as vacant. I heard the word “guilty” said three times. The jury found him guilty. I felt nothing. Another best friend, Tonya, called me. She said, “Did you see it? He’s guilty on all charges.” The rest of the call is a blur. I know I said little. I remember I was terse. Something was wrong with me.

I left my office and returned home to my television. I saw people in celebration. I noticed a tear on Al Sharpton’s cheek as he prayed for the Floyd family and for all who had been involved in this historic moment. But my eyes were dry. I felt a slight lump in my throat, but nothing came. No tears. No feeling of triumph. No sigh of relief. What was wrong with me? Then the words of one of my teachers, Resmaa Menakem, came to me. I heard his voice say, “You are not defective, Sis.” I repeated it to myself. But my body was braced for something else and it was right to do so.

Four hours after the Chauvin verdicts, news of another killing found its way to me. Sixteen- year-old Ma’Khia Bryant, was shot to death by police in Ohio. News of Ma’Khia found its way to me just as it had done during the Chauvin trial when 13-year-old Chicagoan, Adam Toledo was killed with his hands up by police. It found its way just like it had done a week before that when Daunte Wright was killed by police just 10 miles from where George Floyd was killed.

I am not sure what I am trying to articulate right now. I just know these killings are unyielding and they are relentless. I know I am numb because I am among the traumatized. My Black body is doing what it needs to do in efforts to preserve itself. It braces itself for today, tomorrow and the day after. My Black body cannot manage the dissonance between perceived victory and continued killings. So, it takes over and it leaves my heart to do the best it can in the meantime.

Western Kentucky native LeTonia Jones is a social justice entrepreneur and writer in search of deeper truths about love and what is required to live fully human and be at peace.