Tyler Johnson Was Here(46)

The world is muffled in my ears, and it sounds like I’m in a glass jar and there are vibrations bouncing off me, not quite clear, like I am floating in a hazy vertigo.

I’m not gonna cry, I keep reminding myself over and over, until I trick myself into believing it.

I force myself to block everything out as I replay one of my fondest memories with Tyler, a memory I hold on to tight, like the last hug we shared. It’s a cloudy day, the earth soft, and the world smells like rain will fall soon. It’s just the two of us on the court, and we’re playing a game of one on one.

Tyler has the ball. He dribbles and dips and crosses me over as I try to play defense, my arms guarding him the best I can.

But he always finds ways to get around me. He dribbles the ball in between his legs, spins, releases the ball into the air, and then SWOOSH! The ball falls from the hoop and bounces a couple times on the ground before he checks it to me.

I dribble, breathing in, keeping my eyes on him, knowing his every move—mastering them.

We’re both just sweat and nothing else, not saying anything, just playing.





A dark-skinned girl in a tight purple dress steps forward. When she walks to the stand in front of Mama and me, I can see her eyes up close. They aren’t filled with tears, but with rage. She takes the oath, swearing on the Bible to tell the whole truth.

“State your name into the microphone, please,” the judge says to her.

The girl runs a hand through her hair, flips it, and then says, “Daphne Haywood. I witnessed what happened the night of Tyler Johnson’s slaughter, when he was stopped and then shot to death.”

“Objection!”

“Sustained,” the judge says. “We haven’t come to a conclusion just yet, Ms. Haywood.”

And I’m shaking so fucking bad right now. My life is not a movie, but most of the time I wish it were, and right now is one of those moments when I just fucking wish that this wasn’t real. That the stories on the news, the stories from Mama, the stories Tupac rapped about had just been that. Stories. Not things that could happen to ordinary people. And I feel this harder, more than ever.

And I want to shout: He was murdered. He was murdered. But shouting this would be like shouting into a vacuum in space, only to be silenced and suffocated to death in the end.

The ADA begins questioning Daphne. “For the record, Ms. Haywood, are you a student at Sojourner Truth High School?”

“No, ma’am.”

“How did you end up at the scene?”

“I was invited to the party by a friend’s boyfriend.”

“What did you do when the chaos started?”

“When I first heard gunshots, I dipped out, taking the back exit. When I got outside, that’s when I saw Tyler. He didn’t see me. The cop didn’t see me either. At least, I don’t think so, because neither of them took their eyes off each other.”

“What did you see happen between Tyler and Officer Meredith?”

“The cop told Tyler to put his hands up in the air. Tyler dropped a package as he lifted up his arms. The cop had his gun pointed at Tyler the whole time, taking slow steps forward. I had a feeling that I knew what was going to happen. So I started recording with my phone.”

“And then?”

“It was exactly like what is in the video. That’s how I saw it. Tyler said that he just wanted to get home, and he pushed the cop away and started to run, and as soon as I heard three shots, I ran, but I made sure to keep recording.” She stops and turns her head to look at Officer Thomas Meredith, her face angled up in disgust. “That boy didn’t deserve that. Hell, no one does. And I’m sick and tired of these racist cops saying that he was just a thug and had it coming to justify their actions. This has happened in our community too damn much.”

“Objection!” the defense attorney calls out, adjusting his black tie.

“Sustained.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

Now the defense attorney steps up to cross-examine her, his white face almost as red as his beard.

“Can you describe the party for the court?”

“The party was like all the others that I’ve been to, but it turned into everyone’s worst nightmare. Gang fight and police raid all in one night.”

“Noted. So, you were aware there was the potential for gang violence and police intervention?”

“Yes. But no one tells you when there’s going to be a gang fight or a police raid.”

“So, you’re saying that you went to this party oblivious to the consequences?”

“What?”

“Objection, relevance!”

“Sustained.”

“Withdrawn. When you exited the party, did you see Mr. Johnson handcuffed?”

“I don’t think I saw handcuffs come out at all. Gun first. It was just the two of them going back and forth before the cop shot him.”

“They were going back and forth? So, Mr. Johnson was resisting?” They’re trying to get her like bait. And I want to scream.

“No. He was just asking why he was being targeted, which anyone would do if they were scared. The officer didn’t have to resort to the gun as his first option.”

“Did he resist? Was he behaving violently toward Officer Meredith?”