We shouted ‘Hallelujah!’ after verdict, but true justice is an arduous journey | Opinion

Like so many others across America, and the world, I watched and waited on Tuesday for the verdict to come in from the trial of Derek Chauvin.

It was almost as if I could feel the people of the world holding their breath as we waited. And then it was time. Chauvin, the former Minneapolis police officer, was found guilty on all three counts for murdering George Floyd: second-degree unintentional murder, third-degree murder and second-degree manslaughter.

Justice had prevailed. We cried; we shouted “Hallelujah!” and “Thank you, Jesus” as we celebrated along with George Floyd’s family. It was a bittersweet celebration. George Floyd was still dead.

“This is a step in the right direction,” some said. And it is.

Yet, in the depth of our hearts, we know that the jury finding Chauvin guilty on all charges will never erase the centuries of injustice against African-American men and women. My prayer is that we don’t get so caught up in Chauvin being found guilty that we forget there is still much work to be done in the area of justice for all.

As the trial got underway, it hurt too much to watch as witness after witness took the stand to tell their version of the crime. It broke my heart to see grown men and women break down, sobbing unashamedly as they told what they saw on that fateful day, May 25, 2020, and how they felt helpless to come to Floyd’s aid.

I shuddered to think that the outcome could have been different, had it not been for Darnella Frazier, then 17, who filmed the entire crime with her smartphone and then posted it on Facebook. To me, and countless of others, Darnella is a hero.

Like many of you reading this column, I remember so well the day Floyd died. It seemed as though time stood still as I, along with people throughout the country and even the world, watched in helpless horror as Chauvin held his knee on Floyd’s neck and back until he cried out for his mama. When he cried out, nearly all the “mamas” of Black sons in America wanted to answer his cry and rush to rescue him.

Still Chauvin held his knee on Floyd’s neck until blood ran from his nose as he lay on the dirty, hot pavement, digging his fingernails into the tires of the police squad car. Chauvin held his knee on Floyd’s neck until he said his last words, “I can’t breathe…” and life was snuffed out of his body.

It was nine minutes and 29 seconds before Chauvin took his knee off Floyd’s neck. It seemed like a lifetime to those of us who watched and waited for Chauvin to show some semblance of human compassion.

And so, another Black man was murdered at the hands of someone who wore a police officer’s uniform, but whose actions showed the world otherwise. Chauvin wore the uniform, but underneath was a heartless and hateful criminal, whose crime was far worse than the so-called crimes of the man he killed.

I can say this because I watched his face as he took Floyd’s life. There was a creepy, cold look on his face. His eyes seemed to have no light in them. What was he thinking? Had we come to a point in America where a person who is supposed to uphold the law can kill in cold blood, while the world watches, and thinks he will get away with it?

When Chauvin was arrested, few Blacks thought he would ever be brought to justice. We thought it would be more of the same — heartless cops standing trial for the murders of Black men and/or women, and it would be mockery. We knew, as well as the cops being tried, that they would walk. Those defending the killer would paint such a terrible picture of the victim that the guilty would go free.

It had happened before — Arthur McDuffie and Rodney King come to mind. People were so outraged at the outcome of those trials that the cities where the police killing of one Black man, McDuffie, and the severe beating of another, King, took place — Miami and Los Angeles, respectively — erupted in life-taking and property damaging riots. (In Miami, 18 people were killed in the riots spawned by the 1980 acquittal of the four white police officers who had beaten McDuffie, a Black, handcuffed insurance agent, to death with their flashlights.)

On the days leading up to Chauvin’s trial, the gut feeling was that history was about to repeat itself. And in Minneapolis, the city where Floyd was killed, business owners started preparing for the worst, boarding up their storefronts and waiting it out. Kind of like we do here in South Florida when we get hurricane warnings.

What was expected to be violent rioting, with damaged businesses and loss of life, turned out to be somewhat of a spiritual revival meeting with peaceful protesters waving BLM signs, hugging each other and giving thanks to God.

It was beautiful, seeing people of all colors marching together peacefully in celebration of the guilty verdict. A white former police officer had been found guilty of killing a Black man. It was unheard of in my lifetime in America.

As we await Judge Peter Cahill’s sentencing, we must still be vigilant. Only the first part of the battle has been won. We need to be healed. Not only from Floyd’s death, but from the brutal deaths of thousands of other George Floyds who died without justice.

Here is an excerpt from a statement from The King Center in Atlanta:

“... Only in America can a Black person be callously murdered on video for the world to see, then be vilified, dehumanized, and faulted for his own murder. Although Chauvin was found guilty, this nation still faces an arduous journey toward implementing the demands of justice.

Our hearts go out to George Floyd’s family and to the families and communities across this nation who have been violated by an institution designated by badges to ‘protect and serve.’...

“We recognize that there are many facets to ending systemic and overt racism, including in the criminal justice system. ‘Until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream,’ we will immerse ourselves in the work of love-centered, strategic nonviolent deconstruction of injustice and construction of public safety that engages all human beings with dignity, equity and compassion. We still believe this is not only possible, but that we can, as Dr. King said, ‘organize our strength into compelling power so that the government [and other power constructs] cannot elude our demands.’ “

Ditto.