Hello Titilayo Bediako and Minneapolis Folks:

This is a very disturbing story that makes my stomach
turn. I would hope several of the reporters that
participate in this list will investigate this
incident and write more about it.

Ken Bradley Corcoran Neighborhood

--- Shawn Lewis <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
> (Very Long Letter)
> Dear Friends:
> 
> I am enclosing an article about my 
> son who was beaten last
> Friday by the Minneapolis police.  
> Please read and forward it on to as 
> many people as possible.  If this kind of 
> behavior is to stop, we as a community must 
> make it stop.I sent this to all the major 
> newspapers and Thank you for your support
> 
> Titilayo
> (See attached file: My son & the police.doc)
> 
> Every Mother�s Nightmare
> By Titilayo Bediako
> 
> Every mother who has a Black son, worst 
> nightmare is that her child will have an 
> altercation with the police.  This 
> terrifying experience happened for my 
> son on Friday, May 30th on the 
> northside of 
> Minneapolis.  
> 
> My son is a fourteen year old who takes 
> great pride in the way he dresses.  
> On Friday, he wore white shorts; a blue 
> shirt and blue dew rag, covered by a white 
> visor, and blue tennis shoes.   He is 
> graduating from eighth grade and has 
> passed the Minnesota Basic Standards Test 
> and Math and Reading.  He does not do drugs 
> and is not in a gang.  He has aspirations to 
> be an airline pilot; he loves sports, math 
> and playing chess.
> 
> As my son and his friend were leaving 
> the corner store on Penn and Golden Valley 
> Road, they were greeted at the door by a 
> police officer on a bicycle.  Two other 
> Black male youth were walking outside the 
> store behind my son and his friend.  The 
> officer told all four boys to put their 
> hands up against the wall.
> 
> Since my son was ten years old, I have 
> had to unfortunately teach him that he does 
> not have the same rights as other citizens 
> because he is a Black male.  I have told him 
> if the police ever stop him, to say as 
> little as possible, do what they tell him 
> to and to never ever talk back to them.  
> There are too many horror stories where 
> Black male youth have come up dead, missing, 
> or extremely hurt by one wrong word to 
> the police.
> 
> As the officer tells my son and the other 
> boys to hold up the wall with their hands, 
> the white male police officer comes up to my 
> son and commands him to pull out his wallet.  
> As he reaches for his pocket to find his 
> wallet, the officer punches him in the face, 
> grabs both of his arms with one hand and grabs 
> him by the neck with his other hand and 
> begins to chock my son.  Quickly and fiercely, 
> the officer throws him to the ground.  Then 
> the officer begins to kick my son in the 
> stomach and legs.  He took his fist and 
> punched him in his face several times.  
> The police officer took out his handcuffs 
> and cuffed him so tightly that scars were 
> left on his wrists.  The �protector of 
> the community� grabs my son�s wallet out 
> of his pocket and slaps him in the face 
> with it.
>  
> 
> The officer proceeds to make a bizarre 
> statement to my son, �Why aren�t you 
> following my instructions?�  My son responds, 
> �Sorry sir, I was getting my wallet out like 
> you told me.�  �No, I didn�t,� snorted 
> the officer, �It makes me very angry when 
> people don�t follow my instruction.�  The 
> police officer began going through my son�s 
> pocket and then he takes off  my son�s 
> shoes, looking for drugs.  He tells my 
> fourteen year old, �I�ve seen you before, 
> and I know you have drugs.�  He phones in 
> my son�s name to the central office to 
> verify the police record that this Black 
> boy must have because this officer 
> �knew� him.
> 
> �Why are you here?� the officer demanded to 
> know from my son.  My son replied, �My friend 
> and I were buying candy from the store.�  
> �Where do you live?� the officer retorted, 
> �South Minneapolis,� he quickly commented.  
> In another bizarre twist the officer said,� 
> Have you ever been on 38th and Chicago 
> Avenue?�  My son said, �Yes sir.�  The 
> officer continues to say, �This spot (Penn 
> and Golden Valley Road) is just like being 
> over there.  People get in trouble over here 
> all the time, just like over there.  When 
> you wear rags on your head it makes you a 
> suspect.�  
> 
> The officer�s phone begins to ring.  He is 
> told that  my son does not have a police 
> record.  To add insult to injury, the officer 
> says to my son, �Are you ever going to get 
> in trouble like this again?�   He says, 
> �No sir.�  The other officer standing next 
> to the assaulting police comments, �He�s 
> lying.�  They take the handcuffs off my son 
> and tell him he can go.  They let my son 
> know that they are doing him a favor by 
> letting him go.
> 
> Imagine how terrified I am when my son 
> calls and informs me that he has been beaten 
> by the police.  As I pick  him  up from his 
> friend�s house on 16th and Penn, tears come 
> to my eyes as I see how they have scared 
> and bloodied his face.  As we drive down 
> Plymouth Avenue, we pass the police station.  
> I stop and have my son come with me so that
>  the officer in charge can see what their 
> people have done to my son.  When I tried to 
> get in, the door was locked.  It wasn�t 
> until an elderly African American man came 
> out of the building could we go into the 
> police station.  I asked to speak to the 
> officer in charge.  As my son explains to 
> Sergeant Young, who was in charge, what 
> happened to him, the sergeant looks at 
> me and says, �Well it wasn�t one of my guys.  
> Those guys on bikes are in another unit 
> downstairs and they are closed for the night.  
> You have three choices, 1) report to the 
> supervisor downstairs tomorrow, 2) call 
> internal affairs, or 3) call CRA.�  I say 
> in an upset tone, �I can�t make a report?� 
> In a very nasty tone he said, �No.�  Feeling 
> very emotional, I say, �What use are you if 
> I cannot report a crime when it happens?�  
> The lead officer looks at me and says, 
> �Get your ass out of my house!�  I look at 
> him and say, �The police station is your 
> house?�  He says, �You damn right, 
> get out.�
>  
> 
> This experience is reminiscent of slavery 
> days, when the �master� beat and maimed 
> African Americans for no other reason 
> than they �looked� like they might be 
> doing something wrong.  So many mothers 
> teach our son�s to be respectful, do their 
> best, and stay out of trouble; my son gets 
> beat up by the police for no other reason 
> than the police  have the power to do so.  
> This incident did not happen at night, it 
> happened at 6:00 p.m.   The sun was shining 
> and it was a bright day.  How have the 
> police come to feel so comfortable to beat 
> up on our children without fear of 
> reprisal?
> 
> My son comes from a long line of social 
> activists.  You can imagine how appalled 
> his grandfather, Matthew Little was, who 
> has worked for the human and civil rights 
> of African Americans and all citizens for 
> the last sixty years.  My son�s grandfather 
> has been in the forefront in creating the 
> NAACP in Minneapolis, he helped organize the 
> March on Washington in 1963,  he took the 
> leadership in the desegregation of  the 
> schools in Minneapolis, worked with city 
> officials to assure that there was diversity 
> and promotions for people of color in the 
> police and fire departments.  Matthew Little 
> has received many accolades and honors for 
> his work to assure that Minneapolis 
> guarantees rights for all of its citizens. 
> Yet through all his years of work and 
> sacrifice, his grandson is profiled and 
> beaten up just because he is an African 
> American male.  
> 
> Citizens in Minneapolis are bombarded with 
> images on the news of African American 
> youth, stealing, killing, doing drugs, 
> joining gangs and creating havoc.  We are 
> given the impression that these youth 
> 
=== message truncated ===


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