We see you. We saw you. And we want you to know it. We watched intently, yet without hope as you took to the podium that afternoon and attempted to explain away the death of a Black woman. We saw you say, with a straight face and stolen soul, how there wasn’t enough “evidence” for the grand jury to indict any of the officers responsible for the killing of our sister. We saw you attempt to explain why wanton endangerment was the correct charge and how a D felony was the best that could be done. How you explained that to the family and how it was a hard conversation. We heard you say that this was a tragedy. For the family. The community. The city. The state. America. The world.
We heard you answer some questions from reporters, and duck others. After seeing you do all of that ducking and dodging, shucking and jiving in the name of the law, we’d like to have a hard conversation with you. We’d like to explain to you what it means to be a Black man—not the kind of Black man you professed to be when answering that reporter’s question. No. We want to talk to you about being the kind of Black man that uses his position to seek justice and not just to fit a narrative. The kind that is impartial and not beholden to the grandfather of your brand new wife. The kind that, knowing he is responsible for handling a huge case, would never take time away from said case to speak in support of a president that has constantly shown how lives like ours—and yours—don’t matter at all.
We’d like to have that conversation with you, Danny. Soon. However, I’m the meantime, just accept this Nah, B for all that you’ve done. And to answer the question of whether we’re done fighting. Challenging this broken system. Electing people who are actually impartial. Who won’t be swayed, compromised, or bought. Nah, B. Never that. We’ll be calling your office to have that conversation soon.
We… The People