George Floyd, Jesus, and Justice: An Open Letter to My Family.

Dear Family,

I wanted to write this letter to you because I believe people can change. The murder of George Floyd sparked something that seems different than before. I wanted to talk to you from the perspective of someone who has been where you are, a white person growing up in Texas, and tell you why I believe what I believe. There is so much I want to talk about, but I think it’s best to start with why I care so much about criminal justice reform and why this moment matters.

Some of you may have seen on my Facebook that I am an agnostic now. But my concern for criminal justice actually comes from my Christian upbringing, from the things people like Grammy and Pawpaw taught us. We learned what Jesus would say to those of us getting into heaven at the final judgment:

Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.

I knew back then those things had special significance. God had given us the questions that would be on the final exam. For a while, I couldn’t honestly say I had really done them with any effort.

I tried to figure out how I could. It was weird at first and I felt icky about almost everything. I volunteered to restock a local food bank, which sucked. I tried volunteering for a community center in Dallas that did weekend brunches for the homeless, but I was really uncomfortable with the fact that they forced everyone to sit through a sermon before eating. In retrospect, I think I was bugged that if “all men are created equal” how come I could eat without having to sit through a lecture?

Eventually my penchant for arguing and love of James Spader’s character in Boston Legal led me to intern for the Innocence Project of Texas. I heard horrible stories. One case I reviewed was an execution style murder in a restaurant freezer. Conveniently, killing people in a freezer makes it hard to date bodies. Had the guy not left his fingerprints on every possible surface, he might have gotten away with it.

However, in a system where I wanted to believe we mostly got stuff right, there were too many stories of proven innocent people rotting in prison for years. The worst I remember was from 1999. A Texas cop named Tom Coleman arrested 10% of the black population in Tulia, a small town in the Panhandle, on bogus drug charges. Then Texas Attorney General John Cornyn awarded him “lawman of the year.” Eventually things unraveled. Things got so bad that Rick Perry, of all humans, pardoned 35 people. I couldn’t shake the questions I had. What had gone so wrong that this Coleman guy was allowed to be a police officer? How did the district attorneys still charge these cases? How did the judges allow the evidence in? How did the juries convict these people to up to 90 years in prison?

I’ve worked as a public defender for two years now. Now I know.

Last year, I stood in front of a judge who carved fees out of my client’s social security disability money. I decided to take my argument to the judge because the prosecutor wouldn’t agree to waive the fees. The judge asked, “what are you going to spend your money on when you get out of jail?” “Probably a $100 on a phone,” he responded. He had AIDS, and needed to regularly call his doctor. He would be living in a tent. The judge’s response, and I paraphrase only slightly, was, “if you can afford a phone, you can afford your fees. I find you able to pay.” It’s clear to me that Judge D. Charles Bailey, “Charlie” had never really considered what it might be like to be homeless, or how difficult it might be to get a land line routed to a tent.

Then, two weeks ago, George Floyd died, murdered by a police officer. Here’s what I have seen you post on Facebook:

First:

I would like to know when will the protests and riots start for the senseless murders of David Dorn -77 BLACK or David Underwood-53 BLACK or Chris Beaty-38 BLACK or Italia Kelly-22 BLACK. These people were shot by the rioters/looters all in the name of “Justice” and for the demand for “Change”. I am just cuirios do their lives NOT MATTER? Were they not a Husband, Father, brother, sister or Child of someone?

Maybe just maybe if EVERYONE lead with one of the simplest teachings of the greatest teachers of all times: ‘ Love thy neighbor as thyself ‘ 22:36–40 KJV. Then people would actually envoke REAL change.

And for those of you who say you cannot condem the entire movement for the actions of a few bad people, I say to you WHY NOT? Is that not what we do now, we condem ALL for the actions of a few…

Another shared a quote by Candace Owens who said:

…we are the only people that fight and scream and demand support for the people in our community that are up to no good.

I’ve also heard:

What about black on black crime?

These sentiments all seem to discuss the hypocrisy of a movement for change. And, to be honest, I think some of them are a little ugly. Today at least I am not here to tell you what I think about how valid those statements are. I do that plenty on social media. Instead, what I want to focus on are our shared goals. It doesn’t matter so much what the statistics are on criminal justice in the United States, until you know where your heart is at. Let me tell you where mine is.

I love people, even criminals, even protesters, even cops as equals. But I don’t believe it’s possible to open your eyes and see that people are treated equally.

Just about every black person I’ve ever met is afraid of the police. When first trying to care about criminal justice reform I was embarrassingly ignorant. By way of example, I remember sitting at a community organizing meeting when I was around 20 and talking to a black woman. She told me, “I am afraid every time I see a police car” that she would get pulled over or arrested just for being black. I think I asked something deep like, “Really? Still?” I’m sorry, Julie. I see the stories, the shootings, the chokings, the murders. I see now. I want everyone to see now.

I simply do not believe this is the best that America can do. I don’t think we have time to wait to fix it.

A lot of people have forgotten how to care. I think perhaps we’ve become so jaded that we can’t even imagine a society without police shootings. We can’t imagine a society where everyone has a home. We can’t imagine a society where all of our children are fed.

I wish that a letter like this could make the difference. The truth is, I don’t know. I can’t wash away a lifetime of your experiences in a few paragraphs. What I can do is give you a starting point. Jesus said, “the foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of man has nowhere to lay his head.” I think that means Jesus was homeless. If you’ve read the rest of the story, He was falsely convicted. He was sentenced to death. This is the man that Grammy and Pawpaw talked about, the one they sold all their stuff for, the one they became missionaries for.

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’

The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’

To quote Janet Jackson, I think Jesus is asking you “what have you done for me lately?”

Sincerely,

Michael