preview

Mike Brown Murder Case

Decent Essays

Intense apprehension and excitement mingled energetically throughout my body as Taylor and I approached the Government Plaza in downtown Greensboro. We were attending a protest against the Grand Jury’s decision to not indict Officer Darren Wilson with the murder of eighteen-year-old Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri. Questions and worry sounded in my mind. What is this going to be like? What if things get out of hand? What if I’m arrested? I looked over to Taylor on my right side. She gave me a small smile as if she knew what a wreck I was in my head. I gave a hesitant smile in return. Everything is going to be fine, I thought to myself. I couldn't help feeling out of place as we made our way through the crowd. It was clear that Taylor and …show more content…

I knew when Mike’s body was left in the street for four and a half hours as his blood slowly spilled down the street on a hot, muggy August day. I knew when Ferguson’s Police Department released false reports and evidence, trying to frame Mike Brown for theft as if that was a valid reason for murdering him. I was only reassured as the days passed without sight of a decision from the Grand Jury. Finally, I was absolutely positive that there would be no indictment when a state of emergency was announced and military vehicles rolled into the town. A thick fog of distress and anxiety seemed to hang over the plaza. We were all there for similar reasons. But everyone appeared uncomfortable as they remained spread about the space. The fog began to dissipate as some students urged everyone to move in closer and people began speaking. Tentative voices echoed chants emphasizing …show more content…

The organizers of the event stood on the steps before us. A poet was brought to the front and introduced. He was reading a poem titled “Dig Deep” that he’d written that morning. Silence washed over the crowd when he began. A tenacious passion addressed each and every person listening. The poet’s voice cracked and wavered as tears streamed down his face. My eyes widened when the words “queer black youth” were bellowed into the megaphone. He had given queer black youth a tribute, thanking me and everyone else involved in the community for stressing the importance of intersectionality. I raised my left fist as tears stung at my eyes, silently thanking him for recognizing our efforts. My fist remained up until the last words of the poem were

Get Access