Tensions rise after Fort Worth police shooting of black woman
FORT WORTH, Texas - Before there was Atatiana Jefferson, there was Jackie Craig, a black woman who called police to report that her white neighbor had grabbed her son - and found herself pinned to the ground by the officer who responded.
There was Henry Newson, a black man who had just been discharged from the hospital and was waiting for a ride home when two officers working security questioned why he was there. He refused to leave, and a white officer punched him in the face.
There was Craigory Adams, also black, who knocked on his neighbor’s door late one night carrying a barbecue fork - to keep stray dogs away, he said - and the neighbor called police. A white officer pointed a shotgun at Adams but said he wasn’t meaning to fire it. He did, striking Adams in the arm.
These names and others have all been brought up again in the days since Jefferson, a 28-year-old black woman, was shot and killed in her bedroom this month by a white police officer who was standing outside her window. In the largely black and Hispanic neighborhood in southeast Fort Worth, where Jefferson lived, and in others nearby, many residents recalled times when they had tried calling police - and ended up sorry that they did.
“This is not an isolated incident,” said the Rev. Kyev Tatum, who is part of a coalition asking the Justice Department to investigate “overaggressive policing” in Fort Worth’s communities of color. “This is historic and it is systemic, and we understand that racism is at the heart of this.”
The long-simmering tensions boiled to the surface this month after Jefferson became the sixth person to be killed by Fort Worth police since June. Four of the six were black.
Five years after a police shooting in Ferguson, Missouri, stoked a national debate over race and policing, Fort Worth is far from the only community where residents complain that the conversation in their city never really went anywhere.
In Dallas, just 30 miles east of Fort Worth, a similar case played out tragically over the last year: A white off-duty police officer was sentenced to 10 years in prison earlier this month after she mistakenly entered the apartment of a black neighbor, Botham Shem Jean, and shot him to death while he was watching television.
“There’s a pattern,” said Craig, 49. “They want to say that it’s not racially motivated,” she said. “It’s just obvious to the eye that it is.”
Jefferson’s death drew hundreds to a vigil outside her house in Fort Worth. At City Hall, protesters held signs reading “Say Her Name.” And on the Democratic presidential debate stage last week in Ohio, Julián Castro brought up Jefferson’s death to discuss police violence.
Fort Worth has a storied history as a Western outpost - it lives up to its Cowtown nickname with twice-daily cattle drives in the historic district - but today, the nation’s 13th largest city is in some ways two different places, divided along racial and economic lines. It is home to Wal-Mart heiress Alice Walton, the wealthiest person in Texas, but neighborhoods like Jefferson’s are dotted with abandoned homes.
Most of the police force, about 65%, is white - as are the mayor, the city manager, a majority of the City Council and now the police chief, after the department’s first black chief was fired earlier this year. Black and Hispanic residents, who together make up a majority in the city, complain that they often feel ignored by city leadership and unfairly targeted by police. Black residents on their own make up about 18% of the population, but they accounted for 40% of arrests in 2017.
The latest turmoil began after midnight Oct. 12, when Jefferson was playing video games with her 8-year-old nephew. Two officers responded to a neighbor’s report that her doors were open. As Jefferson grabbed a gun from her purse, one of the officers fired the fatal shot through a bedroom window without identifying himself, police said. The officer, Aaron Dean, who quickly resigned, now faces a murder charge.
From the beginning, city officials knew the case was going to be unlike any of the previous police shootings. The mayor, Betsy Price, said the interim police chief, Ed Kraus, called her at about 6:30 a.m. and told her the essence of what had occurred overnight.
“He just said, ‘I don’t think it’s going to be pretty,’” Price recalled. “‘It’s too early. I don’t have the details yet, but it looks like the wheels fell off.’”
Public resentment had been building for years. In interviews, many residents said they knew people who had been shot, shocked by stun guns or wrestled by police. At least four highly publicized encounters have been documented in video footage and lawsuits. Some of those officers have faced criminal charges and left the department; others remain on the force.
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