, and citizens throughout Denver have been in the throes of mourning lives lost in shootings in Dallas, Baton Rouge, La., and St. Paul, Minn., this week, and people met Saturday in an effort to keep the conversation alive.
“We protest, but itap short-lived,” said Tony Johnson, one of 17 citizens who gathered at the United Church of Montbello to mourn the police-involved shooting deaths of and , and the five police and transit officers killed by a shooter in Dallas.
Several sitting in the church pews expressed exasperation at the frequency of these discussions, feeling collectively tired.
More community meetings for Sunday and Monday across the city with the help of the mayor’s office.
“We always get together and talk about these things, but (it keeps happening),” said MaryEtta Curtis, whose brother was once a police officer in Mississippi.
Several in the largely black audience voiced a desire for substantive change that would cut down the likelihood of police-involved shootings of racial minorities, echoing . They also decried the issue of shooting deaths in general.
“I wanted to be a part of this conversation,” said Denver Police Department District 5 Cmdr. Ron Thomas. “There’s been a fracture between minority communities and police, and I wanted to be in the middle of that.”
Thomas was near tears when he explained that officers in his district were reaching out to work extra shifts so that others wouldn’t have to ride alone on patrol this week, fearful of more violence.
“I care about this community,” he said, as a woman next to him held his arm.
All 17 were given time to speak their minds, and the Rev. James Fouther Jr. followed each “testimonial” by leading the group in singing a short verse of church hymn, often “This Little Light of Mine.”
“I’m here because those were young black men who didn’t need to die,” said Fouther, who led the group in a prayer that included a plea for passing an assault weapons ban into law.
“I don’t want to infringe on anybody’s rights,” said Aprilla Willis, a member of the church who referenced the 2012 Aurora theater massacre. “Everybody talks about the right to have guns. But where are my rights? My right to sit in a church, a theater, a restaurant.”
Kourtney Green, the daughter in a family in the back pew that spanned three generations, recounted stories of being in a car in which her brother was profiled by officers, and of her boyfriend being unnecessarily “pushed up against a wall” by officers on the 16th Street Mall. She was in tears.
“(Itap) three generations of people who (have been) concerned about the same thing,” said Vel Garner, who advocated for more protests on the issue.
MarKeva Hill, a pastor in Denver, said video and social media “is lifting a veil” that has lain for decades over similar incidents.
A smaller group gathered in a room in the Colorado Latino Leadership, Advocacy and Research Organization offices less than a mile away.
“We need to talk about racism,” said John Riley, a former juvenile corrections officer who said the country cannot solve its problems without discussing race head-on.
Christine Alonzo, executive director of CLLARO and former executive director of the Pueblo Human Relations Commission, said mediation programs between officers and civilians who have complaints can be helpful. Thomas, who was also at the meeting, noted that Denver has a mediation program similar to Pueblo’s.
For both groups, talking was a crucial part of a solution.
“We need to get into more of these conversations (as police officers),” Thomas said, discussing how to improve community-officer relations. “I think we need to take that responsibility.”
“When we have these meetings, don’t just have these meetings,” Johnson said. “Go home and talk to your families, your children. We gotta do something.”
