“You Have the Wrong Son!”
Sons of Baltimore come in all different shapes, sizes, descriptions, ethnicities, and backgrounds. I am a son of Baltimore. Mayor Brandon Scott is a son of Baltimore. Both Wes Moores are sons of Baltimore.
And even though we have some similarities, we are each distinctively different in our own right. Nevertheless, our most significant commonality is that we are sons of Baltimore.
I heard a mother scream to the ears of GOD in heaven, pleading with police authorities to just listen to her:
“You have the wrong son.”
A few days ago, a video was posted on social media. The video was the detainment and arrest of a young man while in the presence of his mother. Apparently, he was assisting his mom with groceries. Carrying bags. When they were approached by assault-rifle, gun-toting police who believed that he was their wanted suspect.
This event unfolded at East Monument Street and North Luzerne Avenue in East Baltimore. Baltimore County Police officers were assisting U.S. Postal Inspection Service agents in Baltimore City.
The video was recorded by a man whom you hear repeatedly ask, “What is he being arrested for?” as he practically narrated the event from beginning to end.
The “son” was seated on the curb. Hands cuffed behind his back. While authority stood atop him with rifles and guns dangling from their hips and shoulders, pointed downwardly.
For some reason, when I saw this imagery, I thought of the acclaimed writer Ta-Nehisi Coates and his book Between the World and Me. A letter written to his son.
The young man seated on the curb remained calm, outwardly. He wasn’t heard uttering a word. He wasn’t defiant nor oppositional. It was almost as if he was trained for such a moment. As if he was well-versed in police interactions.
You see, unfortunately, these are lessons that sons of Baltimore are taught to not heighten situational encounters with authority. Lessons on how to make it home alive when guns are drawn and you’re being falsely accused of doing something.
Lessons on how to make it home alive when guns are drawn on you by individuals sworn to serve and protect you.
A true dichotomy if there ever was one.
As much as the ordeal saddened me, I commend the young man for not responding in a manner that could’ve potentially escalated this recorded event.
“You have the wrong son,” his mother bellowed.
Simultaneously on the phone with her husband, pleading with him to get off of the City truck, leave work immediately, to come and do something.
She’s heard crying through the phone, “Baby, they’re locking Junior up.”
The mother pleaded with the police.
“He’s never been in trouble.”
“Never been arrested in his life.”
She told them that he’s a high school graduate. He was just helping her carry their groceries, which were seen visibly strewn in the street.
The mother cried and pleaded to no avail. And just as I know my mother would’ve done, she offered herself in release of her son.
She asked, “Why would you put my son in handcuffs?”
She went on to say, “I paid a price for that!”
“Lock me up instead.”
She bemoaned, “Take me, take me!”
It was an arrest warrant. And according to the arresting authorities, her son fit the description, shared the same name as the suspect.
Fit the description.
As a son of Baltimore, I fit many descriptions. I also lament that the perception of me may not be my actual truth.
I remember as a child. My mother told me to not leave out of the backyard. My cousin and I were supposed to be cleaning it in preparation for a cookout.
However, my cousin easily coerced me to go with him to the basement store to play the arcade game.
We never made it.
Instead, we were picked up by the police because we “fit the description” of individuals who’d broken into a school.
We were placed in the police car. Then driven to the school to be identified.
I immediately started crying once the accusation was made and we were placed in the police car. My older cousin asked, “Why are you crying? You know we didn’t do anything.”
But what my cousin didn’t realize was that something was already done.
The false accusation because we “fit the description” was damaging in itself. Whatever transpired after that was just adding insult to injury.
We’d been stereotyped.
As children.
I’d already been impacted in a manner that would stay with me forever.
And when the witness said, “It wasn’t them,” and we were released to go home, as soon as I got into the house, my mother gave me my worst beating.
She was scared.
An elder from my community had already informed her that he saw me getting placed into a police car.
And just think what could come from me being placed into a police car.
The loss of my life is an unfortunate and unreasonable outcome.
Yet it’s still an outcome.
I damn near cried watching the video of this false arrest.
Then I started to think how this event could potentially have a life-altering impact on this young man. His trajectory could be shifted from this error.
As a parent, and a son of Baltimore, I feel for how his mother was visibly hurt by being useless in her ability to protect her child.
A father a distance away, receiving play-by-play illustration of all that’s transpiring from a distraught wife crying and pleading to save their child.
To no avail.
Helpless.
And a son of Baltimore, who’ll never be the same.
All because he “fit a description.”
Or shared the same name as a suspect.
The authorities couldn’t see the difference. And his mother couldn’t convince them otherwise through her desperate plea amid her cries.
The son of Mrs. Deneen Jordan wasn’t charged. Authorities later announced that he was misidentified. An administrative review is now open.
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