Journey For Justice December 4, Day 4 Uvalde: the police

We are wrung out, absorbing the horror, pain, anger, terror blanketing this small town almost 7 months after the unspeakable violence. We have been the site of the murders and the 77 minute total lack of action by the armed law enforcement people; witnessed the halting painful testimonies of some of the families; listened to the political, social, cultural historical and contemporary framework of this town; shared a meal together and now we are ready to find our campsite where we will rest tonite and then head out from tomorrow.

I’m following another caravaner, as we are sharing the camping space when I realize he is going in the wrong direction so I turn around, then turn down a one-way street as I attempt to google map the campground.

While I’m staring at my phone, waiting for it to load, I notice red and blue flashing lights behind me, so I pull over.

It is the local police, asking me if I realize I was driving in the middle of two lanes and then stopping in the middle of the street. I don’t say that it’s after 8pm and we appear to be the only car on the road but instead I say that we’re lost.

He asks where we are from and I say California (as he can tell from my license plate) at the same time Marina says Austin.

I ask him if he knows where the campground is, even though I’ve found it on google maps. I’m secretly relieved he’s not pulling me over for using my phone while driving.

He relaxes and gives us directions then asks for my license, which I surrender and wait for him to return, which he does in a long minute.

When he returns, he tells us we’re free to go and explains once again directions to the campground, less than a mile away.

I ask him if he’s willing to engage in a conversation with us without penalizing us for asking him what we want to know. He agrees almost eagerly, a big friendly smile on his young face.

The first thing I want to know is whether he was one of the responders to the Robb Elementary School massacre that took place last May. He tells us he was off that day, and did not join the response.

I ask him if he knows why law enforcement waited 77 minutes before entering the building… to which he says he doesn’t really know but thinks that law enforcement thought it was a disarm situation and not a live shooter scene… so I continue “during the 77 minutes several 911 calls were made from inside the school, from children who later ended up bleeding out and dying before being rushed to the hospital.”

He is quiet, nods briefly, looks sad and guilty even, saying again he really doesn’t know.

I ask him why in the world is he a police officer anyway. He doesn’t say to help people or rescue them from murderous teenage boys but shrugs regretfully and even sadly, and says he did two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan and when he returned, he didn’t think he could get any other job – or a job that paid him as much as this one pays at least. And a job that the military prepared him for.

I nod also sad, and don't say a job that prepared him to kill human beings, but instead I tell him I'm sure he has other skills, interests he had before joining the military as he nods in a little wonder and then agreement

When I urge him to quit and find another job but he claims he has to work to survive, as he has bills to pay, hobbies he wants to engage in. When I ask what interests he tells me he loves the land and backpacks whenever he has more than a day off. Both Marina and I laugh and say he can backpack for almost nothing – not like playing golf or skydiving. And furthermore, where did he put his love for the land while the 'wall' was tearing through this land? He simply shrugs as if helpless.

I tell him he is not really talking about surviving but about making sure a certain lifestyle is surviving. He needs to lay down his guns and all his weapons and find another way to support himself that also supports his community and Mother Earth.

Marina talks to him about the refugees coming over the border and he confesses he is the son of immigrants who first came and went freely over the border. They share childhood stories of living in the u.s. and returning on the weekend to their towns in Mexico to play and eat with cousins and grandparents, aunts and uncles, then to freely head back across the border Sunday nights to go to school and work. Never hiding or worrying about border patrol, never being hunted down and chased by drone, helicopters, law enforcement.

Marina asks him how he can justify preventing others from doing what his parents freely did and he acknowledges again, things are not right but he cannot do anything about this.

We urge him to just think about laying down his guns – and let him know, as he knows, this is NOT the right way for human beings to live. He nods, promises he will think about it while we thank him for being open to having this conversation with us.

Journey For Justice Dec 4th, Day 4: the gun challenge

When oh when will we have the courage to stand up to the god-given male hallowed privilege of killing us with guns? Even those whose babies have been murdered are not able to say NO MORE FUCKIN GUNS.

Instead, they are saying they have to give men that power over us, over our children's lives, over the lives of womyn in homes where men who are violent act on their right to kill another human being.

How can anyone claim to be a fuckin christian and NOT demand that guns be eliminated?

So instead the parents of slaughtered children are begging the government to raise the age limit from 17 to 21 for ak or ar or a whatever military-grade rifles manufactured to kill as many people in 10 seconds as possible.

Really? Fuckin REALLY?

Do you think you'll feel better if your child is murdered by a 21 year old spraying bullets into a classroom than a 17 year old?

And then there are those who want to ban only those ar's or ak's or a whatevers and not machine guns or rapid fire hand guns. And I ask them again so will you feel better if your child is murdered by a 21+ year emptying his guns into a classroom as long as he doesn't have the a rifles?

Journey For Justice Day 4: Uvalde Families

The Uvalde families want us to always remember their murdered children.

And I want us to also remember that the killing of children has ALWAYS been what we do in this country on this land from the very, very, very beginning: the killing of First Nation children, of the children of enslaved mothers, of migrant mothers.

And remember the culpability of every single one of us who are refusing to work to ban ALL guns - and our shame.

Journey For Justice Day 4: Uvalde

First I will post pictures of the giant murals memorializing the dead children murdered inside their elementary school by a 17 year old boy with an AK17(?) rifle while 375 law enforcement men stood around outside the school for 77 minutes before entering to confront the boy with the rifle and protect the children and their teachers.

The murals are the idea and work of a Mexican muralist who learnt about the shootings and wanted to do more than express horror and sympathy for the families and their murdered children. So he decided to come to this country and create murals to let people kno who these children were.

Also, teachers and students from an art school in Austin heard about his project and came to Uvalde to assist.

The artists went into the homes of the children murdered, spoke with the parents and siblings and grandparents about their child - which I can't imagine how diffiult this speaking must have been - and then the artist painted into life existing only on a wall, their little loved one.

These walls are now the only place outside the hearts of the families and community, where the children are alive. Look carefully at the brilliant colors and brilliant beings reflected here on these walls around the center of Uvalde. And weep.p> Then become enraged enough to work to ban guns. ALL guns. Period.

Journey For Justice Uvalde: the (mostly) whole story

Entering the town of Uvalde and proceeding to Robb Elementary School continues to tear me apart inside. I cannot write this blog post until many days later. And as we proceed along the border, I find that I cannot blog these horrific horrors at our border immediately.

Although understanding of the massacre in Uvalde is beyond the scope of most human beings, there are things we need to know about – knowledge that has not been reported in the main media or easily accessible in any media.

Or at least knowledge I did not possess until being here.

First of all, we should know that in this part of Texas there are more law enforcement agencies and individuals per square inch than in any other part of the nation.

And furthermore, more border patrol people than anywhere else.

So on May 24th, when the shooting took place, almost 400 various men (and probably some women) with guns, military training, and who knows what other war-grade weapons of choice they had, responded to the 911 call informing them that a 17 year old male youth had entered the brown children's elementary school with a military war-grade weapon.

And those almost 400 armed men stood around the perimeter of the building for 77 minutes – not doing a thing. 77 minutes after the reports of gunfire and after hearing gunfire and after knowing that children were making calls to 911 begging for help, saying they were wounded. 77 minutes while children who bled out might have been saved. Doing nothing.

Waiting

Children and their teachers waiting for the men with guns who were supposed to protect and save them, never entered the school for 77 minutes.

Waiting

Even the fuckin Texas rangers did nothing but wait.

No one can understand why the police didn’t react, didn’t try to capture the gunman, didn’t enter the building to protect elementary school children and their teachers.

Except these were the brown children of immigrants. And their brown teachers. And their brown school. Robb School.

We learn from Magdeleno, an awesome civil rights activist, that this school was the site of the first civil rights organizing and protest in 1970 for the rights of Chicano educational equality in the u.s.ofa. plus Farm Workers rights, etc. so it is the site of has a rich history of fighting racism and amerikkkan bigotry. There was a six week walk-out by these Chicano parents and children, which you can imagine the hardship

And now it is the site of 19 dead children and two teachers – all murdered as law enforcement stood by.

The 17 year old was a former student at Robb elementary who was staying temporarily with his grandmother. That day, she attempted to stop him and was the first causality he shot – in the face. And even as woundded as she was, she struggled to the neighbor's and had them call the police. She has survived but is in extraordinate pain and has undergone many surgeries. She will probably have to undergo 30 or more surgeries in the future as well.

The police and maybe governing body has plans to destroy the school but many in the town are wanting to destroy the police instead.

The other response is to build 8’ fences around the school and hire state troopers to patrol. The townspeople say enough with walls – build bridges instead and ban assault rifles at the very least.

Journey For Justice Dec 4th: Uvalde: Robb Elementary School

The Journey For Justice has stopped at Robb School in Uvalde to witness the site of this massacre. I didn't want to do this but I am here.

Is there a square inch of Mother Earth in this country that has not been the ground of a massacre since the very beginning?

When oh fuckin when will we have the will to destroy all our guns?

Journey For Justice Day 4: Last leg to Uvalde

Camilo lets us know that the families of Uvalde have filed suit against the 400 law enforcement agenices that did nothing to stop the murder of their children.

So it is more than egregious when we are told we are to have the sheriff's department of a small town, Carrizo Springs, just outside Ulvade escort us through the town. I'm livid and Marina is furious.

I post to the list, still attempting to be diplomatic with this group of mostly white, mostly recently-to-the-fight activists that "armed men make me uncomfortable and we protest the 'escort' and will skip it if it occurs".

Marina is indignant that here we are, going to meet with some of these parents, parents who have not 'only' have children who have been murdered, but are actually suing the law enforcement for not protecting their children that we are having 'protect' us with an escort us through town. She begs us to be more aware and sensitive and at the very least support these parents and community by NOT making nice with a sherrif's department that is protecting us yet failed to even try to protect their children

And lastly, we then pass through Crystal City where u.s. citizens of japanese decent were interned/imprisoned during world war II. When we post this information to the list, no one responds and we just continue to drive by, not making these connections. Tearz

Journey for Justice Day 4: Path to Uvalde

We are about 13 vehicles, with the organizers leading the caravan in their airstream and pickup truck, and my traveling companion Marina and I are at the end with my truck. We have the walkie-talkies between us as internet is sketchy at best.

So we are the last to go through the border inspection checkpoint. Border patrol is only allowed to ask if we are u.s.ofa. citizens. In addition, the founder of Witness at the Border has instructed us to not speak to border patrol, but to refer them to him.

He looks at me when he says they do not want to antagonize fuckin border patrol. Why the hell not? Such nice, fuckin white privilege to 'make nice' with cops and law enforcement. I support having a laison with police but NOT because we need to 'make nice' but so we can continue our action while he risks arrest - not that he would be arrested.

White people have sooooo much work to do, even those who obviously have their heart into helping change our policies and helping the targets of our policies. But we also have to realize our privilege and grab it like a bat to smash injustice of deep racism at the border, in this case.

There are not only two choices when dealing with cops/law enforcement: either antagonize or make nice. There is the choice of educating them, letting them know what they are doing is intolerable, and asking them to lay down their weapons and join the fight for justice. In other words, treating them like hkuman beings while remembering what their jobs are, what they are getting paid to do, and how we are benefitting from their 'protection'.

When we go thru the checkpoint, the border patrol officer tells us he's seen the rest of the caravan and wants to know what we are doing. Marina informs him and he brightens as he tells us he has been on such a journey through Mexico many times. He says he's originally from Monterey and we ask him to acknowlege that horrific things are happening to people seeking asylum. His smile disappears as he nods and says he never had to cross the way people are being forced to cross today.

He wishes us buena suerte and we notify the organizers we've all made it thru the check point.

Journey for Justice Day 4: December 4th Laredo to Ulvade

Laredo to Uvalde

We met early at the base of the bridge over the Rio Grande where refugees attempt to swim across to u.s. ground. Because it was heavy misting, the organizers canceled the morning action and we headed out to Uvalde.

When I first read the itinerary for this caravan several weeks before it started, I was more concerned about finding free or low-cost places to spend the night than the actual places we were going to. So I didn’t make the connection between Uvalde and the murders of the young children at their school.

The organizers want us to drive in caravan formation from one destination to another but I was having great serious turmoil about going to Uvalde, once I realized it was our intention to go there.

I began expressing my horror and misgivings to other members of the caravan and still wavered between going or skipping. I felt it was exploitive and how can we invade these people’s privacy and pain.

Most people thought it was important to show the families our support in their healing process after such a huge violent loss. Other people thought it was important because most of the children, families, town are first, second, third – or more – generation immigrants and we are on this caravan to witness the status and conditions of immigrants, to stand against border killings, border wall, border police; and spread the information about the trials and challenges still facing this community.

Others thought we need to be sharing their grief, not that their grief is in any way comparable to ours or fathomable in any real way, but it’s important to let families know they are not alone and we will not forget them.

But lastly, one of the men who had organized and hosted this part of the caravan had himself lost a relative to the murder. He told me several families had asked us to come as part of our journey for justice.

So I’m going with immense apprehension and intense sadness. How to face a family, a child, a mother or grandmother, a community who has suffered from such horrific violence. How to offer comfort without expecting comfort to be offered. What words to say, what meanings to impart, which ways are conducive to offering support, and which only exacerbate this gaping wound.

And my tears. I HATE crying in public and go to great extremes to keep my tears for the solitude of the night. I am crying now, gasping with the pain, sending a child to school to have them murdered before they can return home. How is that even a scuttling thought in anyone’s mind, let alone an experience?