I keep listening to the just-released recording of Benita Coleman-Davis’ 911 call to Aurora police. I convince myself that if I hear it once more, I’ll understand why pistol-packing Glenn Eichstedt had to shoot Coleman-Davis’ husband, Aaron Davis.
So I replay the 51-second recording over and over. Coleman-Davis speaks clearly but with concern from a parking lot. She asks police for help and tells the dispatcher, “This guy comes up and hits my husband’s door, and now he’s jumped out here.”
I do not struggle to understand Coleman-Davis in the Nov. 13 call. Instead, I focus on words spoken in the background, words I know led to a man’s death. Morbid curiosity sickens me. But I need to hear how an accusation that Eichstedt opened his door into the side of Davis’ SUV morphs into a legal killing.
I hit the play button once again.
I have listened to the recording at least 50 times. I have read carefully the nine-page report that seeks to explain why an Arapahoe County grand jury did not indict Eichstedt for killing Davis and wounding his wife.
Because the couple are black and Eichstedt is white, I wish authorities would invite the FBI to review the investigation to make doubly sure no issues of race surround the shooting.
Grand-jury witnesses don’t suggest any. Neither does the 911 recording.
This tragedy appears to turn on inexplicable anger. Davis was furious with Eichstedt for supposedly scratching his vehicle, something Eichstedt denied.
Some grand-jury testimony indicated that Eichstedt punched Davis first. One witness recalled Eichstedt saying to Davis, “I can kill you right here, right now.” Eichstedt denied saying that.
Some testimony indicated that Davis hit Eichstedt in the head with a metal pipe before Eichstedt pulled out a pistol and fatally wounded Davis and nearly killed Coleman-Davis.
If Eichstedt initiated the violence, he should have been charged. If he was defending himself, he committed no crime.
But with or without an indictment, death arising from alleged door-dinging demands more explanation than reasonable doubt.
I rewind the 911 recording yet again and hope for enlightenment.
The voices in the background are obviously angry but still mostly indecipherable. The cellphone doesn’t pick them up clearly. Coleman-Davis and the dispatcher talk over them. I can’t tell Eichstedt’s voice from Davis’.
“Tell him to come on out here,” someone says. “Come on out here.”
Later, someone says, “Take the hit. Take the hit.”
And later still, “Do it. Do it.”
Even in hindsight, the words offer no clue to the deadly fury that comes after Coleman-Davis mutters, “Aaron,” and her cellphone disconnects.
When the 911 operator calls her back, Coleman-Davis has been shot in the chest and her husband fatally wounded.
The dispatcher tells Coleman-Davis to keep pressure on her chest to control the bleeding. She sputters the license number on Eichstedt’s car.
She is sure that she and her husband will die and that their shooter will escape.
She’s partly right.
Aaron Davis died of multiple gunshots. Critically wounded, his wife recovered.
Eichstedt didn’t leave the shooting scene before police arrived, but no one charged him with a crime.
I hit replay one last time and realize, finally, that there may never be closure in the killing of Aaron Davis and the wounding of his wife. Certainly, the 911 recording contains no “Aha” moment.
Unless, of course, you count a barely audible phrase in the background of Benita Coleman-Davis’ call to police.
I overlooked it the first two dozen times I played the 911 recording. Then, I picked it up in bits and pieces over another two dozen playings.
What I hear is a warning for everybody in a society that so often seeks solutions in violence and firepower.
“You know,” someone says to someone else, “you’re acting like a fool.”
Jim Spencer’s column appears Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He can be reached at 303-820-1771 or jspencer@denverpost.com.
