A Strange Fruit | The Lynching of Terence Crutcher

“Mommy, look at me! Look at me. You’re not even watching my tricks.”

My three-year-old daughter implores me to pay attention to her.

I’m looking at her, but I’m not seeing her.

I’m seeing 13-year-old #TyreKing. 4 ’11, 95 pounds. Shot to death while running…away.

I’m seeing #TerrillThomas. Dehydrated to death.

I’m seeing #TerenceCrutcher. Shot to death for having a flat tire.

If there is anything that will leave you hoping for a God — hoping for angels — it is the Tulsa lynching of Terence Crutcher.

I hope His angles held you.

I hope they gathered around you as you heard the sirens.

I hope they calmed you as your heart raced.

I hope they steadied you as you reminded yourself, “I have a flat tire. I’ve done nothing wrong. Stay calm.”

I hope they held your hands as you quietly and slowly raised your arms. If they are going to kill me you thought, they won’t be able to say I resisted.

I hope they braced your fall as you were tasered.

I hope they created a pillow to soften the ground as you lay motionless.

I hope they flooded you with the kisses of every person you have ever loved and every person who ever loved you, even as 4 officers charged one man who lay motionless on the ground.

I hope they whispered the words of comfort those bound to protect and serve you did not.

Tonight I must carry this hope deep within me.

If I do not, I will “succumb to the temptation of bitterness.”

So for now, I hope they held #Terence Crutcher.

For now I hope they held #TyreKing with the love and tenderness of a mother’s embrace.

For now I hope they took #TerrilThomas to a place where he wants for nothing.

For now.

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