My name was George Floyd

My name was George Floyd

 

I never thought this kind of tragic death would happen again. EVER! The day you arrested me for supposedly committing a crime, I figured I’d have my day in court, but I’d still be able to breathe.

 

Nevertheless, you threw me to the ground while I was wearing your handcuffs. You claimed I struggled to escape, but I wasn’t going anywhere. You then pressed your knee onto my neck, and I screamed, “I can’t breathe!”

 

As three minutes passed, I constantly screamed, “I can’t breathe,” and you stoically looked up at the conscientious person filming you murdering me, but you never relented. I can’t breathe!

 

I called for my “Momma,” who passed away years ago, hoping her spirit would help lift your knee. I screamed for water. I yelled, “They’re going to kill me,” and you still didn’t lift your knee. I can’t breathe!

 

After four minutes, I thought your partner, a person of color and a pseudo-minority, would rescue me from your brutality. I believed he’d be the equalizer. Instead, he upheld the Blue Line and protected your accomplices, who knelt on my body. His unconscionable, nonchalant facial expressions and inaction indicated he endorsed your behavior. I can’t breathe!

 

In the sixth minute, as I lay unconscious on the ground, my lifeless body should have indicated that I was no longer a threat to anyone. Yet, you still did not remove your knee from my neck. While you casually kept your hand in your pants pocket, I was unable to tell you, “I can’t breathe!”

 

After enduring excruciating pain in my last nine minutes of life, you thought that would be the end of my story.  When the EMTs arrived and checked my pulse but never attempted to revive me, it was only then that you reluctantly removed your crushing bodyweight from my neck. I can’t breathe!

 

They carelessly dragged my limp body onto the gurney and quickly pushed me into the ambulance, which whisked me away for the inevitable cover-up investigation. You walked away from the crime scene, smug and justified in your actions, but in reality, the opposite was true. I can’t breathe!

 

You disrespected my life and humiliated community members whom you vowed to protect and serve. You made them witness another Black man being murdered by a rogue police officer. Who will take responsibility for this psychological trauma and disrespect? I can’t breathe! 

 

While I could no longer breathe, I didn’t die alone. Those who now live for me will explore the depths of the otherwise criminal and unjust system to seek my justice. Your day of reckoning will come soon enough. My name was George Floyd. I can’t breathe! Anymore.