Sean Bell

Incredulous, unbelievable, unreal and surreal were a few of the thoughts, I am able to place in print, that fleet through my mind as I listened to the verdict handed down by Judge Arthur Cooperman on Friday, April 25, 2008, in a Queens courtroom in New York City. The previous evening when discussing the case with friends and relatives, some who are current police officers said the officers would not be found guilty, but would walk. I guess my naiveté and belief in the judicial system, in this case, gave me hope that the jurist would give the family some justice. As a man who is a descendant of the African Diaspora, this verdict reinforces the adage that there is a war on black males, as well as others of color in the streets of the city and the wider country.

"Have you heard?" Paul asked me. "No," I responded, but I knew I needed to know. "They got off," he sadly replied. "All three?" I asked. "All three," Paul repeating me. "Damn," I thought aloud.

I was immediately overcome with a deep sense of fear. I feared for my life. I was so glad that after my philosophy of religion course at Union Theological Seminary that I would be getting on train and leaving New York City. Ironically, I would feel safer as Black man in the D.C. with the Bush administration. It was one of those moments that reminded me of that peculiar pole of patriarchy that renders Black male bodies dangerous and warranting deadly force by male police officers. I was glad that my sons, particularly my eldest did not live in New York with me.