Unfortunately For Chris
Learning about death at a young age
From a young age, I remember having to deal with death. Something you learned, where I grew up, is that people die. Most of the time it would happen when you least expect it, but death was a constant part of life that no one had any control over. When I was eight, I watched a young man suffocate to death on our neighbor’s lawn while two police officers stood over him and watched. His name was Chris. The young man, not the neighbor. Our neighbor always went by Mr. Rice, even by my parents.
Mr. Rice never talked to any of us kids, but he was always real nice to mama and daddy; Sometimes, he would bring mama a rose from the bushes in his front yard. He would tell daddy how much his wife loved the roses and that he should give them to mama, because she would love them too. Mr. Rice was an older white man, who worked as an AP English teacher at the high school around the corner. Chris, I later found out, was the varsity quarterback at that very same school and a very ambitious young man. I had seen him plenty of times before the day he died. He would come over Mr. Rice’s house Wednesday’s after dinner time. He never stayed for very long, maybe an hour or so and seemed to never be there while Mrs. Rice was there.
One Saturday afternoon, after we had gotten home from a bike ride with daddy, we saw Chris outside of Mr. Rice’s house. He seemed frantic; I assume because he was naked. I remember him banging on Mr. Rice’s front door and yelling, screaming really, for him to open it. I couldn’t understand why Mr. Rice wouldn’t open the door, seemed like Chris really needed his help. But after a few minutes, out came Mr. Rice, with his phone in his hand. I didn’t know who was on the other end of the phone, but it seemed to scare Chris more. Within a couple of minutes, a patrol car showed up, two officers got out and Mr. Rice rushed back inside his house. As soon as the officers got out, Chris threw something in his mouth and made a break for it.
My family and I stood there and watched the cops tackle and hog tie Chris. That was the day I learned what hog-tying was, after having asked my dad what they were doing to him. He said it was a way to restrain people who may be a danger to you or themselves. I thought it made sense, but I didn’t see Chris as a danger. He certainly didn’t seem calm that day, but who would be, having to stand outside in broad daylight, naked, while being chased by the police. That sounded like a nightmare in my young brain. I never understood why they didn’t just give Chris some shorts or a shirt to calm him down, but after a moment you could see Chris twitching. From where we stood, I could see his eyes and they seemed to be pleading with the officers for something. He started to gag, his body started to convulse, and after a minute I remember seeing him take his last breath, right before his body went completely limp. No one tried to cover him up, no one gave him CPR, the two officers just stood and watched for what seemed to be an eternity before one of them leaned down to check his pulse.
After that, the other one walked to the car and called for a medic. The other neighbors that had come outside because of the commotion had started to go back inside their houses, my father taking us into the safety of ours as well. I asked my daddy, why didn’t they help Chris or call his mom, but he never had an answer. I believe he was searching for answers himself. Why was Chris there on Saturday? And why was he outside naked? And how come Mr. Rice wouldn’t help him? When some officers came later that day, to interview witness, I remember them asking my dad if he had seen the police officers do anything wrong during the altercation. My dad had said no. Maybe at the time, he felt that was true, but it would be two years before we had any questions answered about Chris.
Chris and Mr. Rice had been dating. They had told everyone that Chris needed tutoring so that he could keep his grades up to stay on the football team. But Mr. Rice and Chris would get high on cocaine and have sex. The Saturday Chris died, I guess he and Mr. Rice had gotten into a fight beforehand. Mr. Rice demanded Chris leave but Mr. Rice wouldn’t give Chris clothes. Instead he pushed him outside, naked, with the drugs, locked the door and called the cops. When the cops showed up, Chris panicked, swallowed the bag of drugs and tried to run, which is when he got tackled and hog-tied. Unfortunately for Chris, the bag got stuck in his throat and he suffocated. The officers just kept telling him to stay calm; they didn’t try to help him or call for back up, they just let him die. I watched him take his last breath that day, because the officers only saw him as a threat. A crazy drug addict who was probably terrorizing innocent people in this neighborhood. I saw Chris; A scared little boy, smart and empathetic, in need of help but mistakenly put his trust in and, unfortunately, lost his life at the hands of the people who were meant to protect him; His teacher and the police.
Even today I think about how different a place the world would be if we were all protected the on a humanitarian level, with respect and empathy? Maybe people like Chris, who are just in the wrong place at the wrong time, would still be alive. Maybe some of us wouldn’t, then, have to learn about death at such a young age.
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