Reflecting on recent events surrounding the death of my firstborn son, Christopher, my thoughts turned to life’s purpose. That of my son’s as well as my own. I realized that from the time each of us took our first breath, life has been an adventure. Each adventure, whether filled with thrills or chills, was part of our spiritual journey. Part of the reason we’re here. The best teacher in my life was my father, H.E. Lawson. Funny, calmly unflappable, and plugged into the high-voltage stream of that Power-that creates worlds. The best advice from him was in the form of parables and sayings. In my mind, he is second only to Christ in the delivery of a good, lesson-teaching parable. They were memorable phrases and stories with unforgettable messages. I used them to raise my son and as I approach my 60th birthday this week, I find myself quoting him almost daily. It is said we turn into our parents as we mature.

The most common question on everyone’s mind is “Why?” Humans often try to make sense of the senseless and apply logic where there is none. It is maddening because answers do not exist within the circumstances, they only apply in the hearts and minds of those affected. Find your own why, if you must. I’m not looking for why. I believe that which we call God, that powerful source of life which is capable of aligning planets, producing wind and rainfall, moving the Earth’s crust, changing the seasons, organizing eco-systems into perfect harmonious balance and building a human being from scratch inside a woman’s womb can also orchestrate our lives according to our alignment with that power. My father’s wisdom and alignment fed my spiritual journey and spiritual truths revealed to me throughout life have led me here. I am strengthened by it and can perhaps better understand this life’s purpose.

After reviewing many video clips of events leading to the fatal shooting of Christopher, I am compelled to share my observations. Completely exhausted and holding in my anger and outrage, I neglected to ask about a particular clip. Watching the investigating officer choose those clips he deemed necessary, and caught up in grief and helplessness, my usual tenacious mind did not find the clarity to ask about it. The videos shared clearly support the narrative police will use. I only viewed clips of the most valuable items taken, not the most compelling. As his Mom, I see him delay in the front of his vehicle before going into the store. Most likely smoking and building up the courage to do what he felt needed doing. I could see the look of worried determination on his face as he entered the store. I remembered times when Christopher was small and I’d seen that look and said, “What are you getting ready to do?”

To the African-American officer who took my son’s life I can honestly say that despite my considerable grief and anger, I have no malice toward you. Those reading this are again asking, “Why?” Insert the wisdom of H.E. Lawson here. None of us can put ourselves into your shoes during those moments in the wee hours of August 1st. I watched those videos and found myself wondering if those cold cuts and detergent were worth you reaching into the car for Christopher, perhaps to drag him out of the car to retrieve less than $100 in merchandise. Wondering if you thought you could remove him from the car despite the engine running. Wondering if you thought a big ol’ Detroit with the transmission engaged posed no threat to you, so you held on to save the city of Catonsville from the horrible criminal you clearly must have perceived my son to be. Six-foot-four, long dreads, scruffy goatee. Frightening? Not to those who knew him. If you are brave enough, read what’s being written about him on social media. Understand who Christopher really was. I wonder if you told him to stop before you arrived at the car. On the other hand, did you only do so when he accelerated? I also wonder which of you was more afraid. Was it Christopher upon seeing you with your hand on your side arm, or you in an adrenaline-flooded desire to do your job? I just wish you had had the presence of mind to weigh the value of the groceries, your own safety and the value of my son’s life before firing multiple shots. Wishing you had decided to call it in rather than place your own self in harm’s way for a few items taken by a desperate man too proud to ask for another dime from Mama or friends, despite falling on hard times. Maybe you are wondering the same things. I applaud your choice of career, but question your bravery. I wonder how this incident will influence you as a person going forward. To protect and serve. Right now I’m asking myself if your actions either protected or served, and if so, who?

To this family. All of you. Extended, by marriage, or by blood, all of you who knew and adored him. That includes those of you who called him friend. You, too are Christopher’s family and by extension my children and siblings. Enough of you in the MD area that he returned to the state trusting there was a circle of strength there. Stand strong. Collaborate with each other; use your connections to find answers. Use the media (social, printed, televised) to spread the truth. Call in your favors. Engage your spiritual strength; understand that because we cannot change the course of events, we can still write future history. Don’t allow the conquerors to write it this time. We can shine a light on needed change. We can make Christopher’s life story and senseless and brutal last moments count for something.

To all of you who have expressed the need to host vigils, engage professionals, spread the word, post videos of your thoughts, and otherwise join the #justiceforchris movement, I say emphatically to Release the Hounds! Make it happen. Strap on your social justice armor, assemble your troops and march off to war. Choose your battles and win each one, because to win the war every step taken from this point must be one of effecting change. Change the mindset around the use of body cams. If you strap on your service weapon, strap on the cam and make them so they cannot be turned off. Change how officers are selected, trained, outfitted and punished should they overreact, under-think, use excessive force or charge into situations. Situations where all blame for bad decision-making is heaped upon the perpetrator. The so-called “bad guy.” In this case, tragedy occurred because bad decisions were made.

The Baltimore PD narrative will say the officer feared for his life. Did that happen before or after he tried grabbing my son from a car with the engine running? My son the shoplifter (not an armed robber, not a gang member, not a known repeat offender) Did the fear kick in before the car was put into gear and the accelerator engaged? Or, did because the officer had already reached for his .40 caliber side arm, Christopher feared for his own life? Perhaps the officer was afraid before he unloaded 8 or 9 rounds when one would have been enough. When the truth is the perpetrator-now-victim merely stole cold cuts and an opportunity to make a few bucks on the side so he would not need to steal to survive. Perhaps they both had too much pride. My son paid with his life for those bad decisions: his own decision to shoplift and the decisions made by the officer who shot him.#justiceforchris