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| Keandre, age 11 on left and Xavier, age 12, on right, holding the banner commemorating their daddy; photo by Keandre's mom, Charlee Shegoturown Byington |
We are The Friends and Family of Callion Hamblin.
We were laid low by the horrific killing of Callion, who was only 32-years-old when slain in a hail of police bullets in the city streets of Farmington, Missouri on February 20, 2012, for the high crime of jumping bond and being black in a deeply racist county.
We were sickened by power's repeated lies about what had gone down on that fateful night—corrosive, hurtful lies.
We were laid low by the horrific killing of Callion, who was only 32-years-old when slain in a hail of police bullets in the city streets of Farmington, Missouri on February 20, 2012, for the high crime of jumping bond and being black in a deeply racist county.
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| Flags marking some of the bullets at the murder scene; image from St. Louis Post Dispatch |
We were sickened by power's repeated lies about what had gone down on that fateful night—corrosive, hurtful lies.
We became certain something was and remains terribly rotten in our
hamlet.
We pulled together to organize an historic rally, the first ever of its kind in St. Francois County, one year later.
We met weekly for two months to plan our event and prepare a
video (to be released in the coming days).
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| Photo by Kerry McMullen |
We reached out to partner with existing social justice organizations in St. Louis, who did not hesitate to stand with us.
We received solidarity, support, and the critical guidance of literary artists, intellectuals and activists in St. Louis, Boston,
New York City, Philadelphia and Washington DC.
We repeatedly told each other the story of what had happened
to Callion that night, piecing it together over time, slowly facing the
implications of what we “knew.”
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| Photo by Kerry McMullen |
We composed a counter-narrative to the official pack of half-truths, deceptions and distortions.
We sought inspiration from family photos, Cal’s portraits drawn in pencil;
we read his letters and poetry.
We remembered him whole.
We arranged for banners to be made, one for each of his sons.
We disseminated a press release.
We fashioned signs from poster board and markers.
We read the AP article published about our efforts all over the country the day before the rally, in the local papers too.
We felt the mixed emotions of having our worst suspicions confirmed.
We learned that the autopsy report stated that Cal had taken
6 bullets to the back, and that one of the bullets was from a bondsman’s gun, a
bondsman with a $25,000 investment in Cal’s death.
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| Photo by Kerry McMullen |
We rented a podium and a bullhorn.
We brought an extension cord and plugged it in outside the
courthouse.
We took our power back.
We showed up in frigid weather, some 45 strong—black and
white, old and young, city and country folk.
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| Photo by Charlee Shegoturown Byington |
We smashed the silence.
We saw our neighbors whose tax dollars had paid for the bullets that killed Cal drive by our rally on Columbia Street,
curious about events in their own town. Finally.
We heard a few of them rev their engines in disrespect, blow
their horns during Amazing Grace.
We shook our heads in disgust.
We stood taller.
We held our ground.
We made history. Not just Black History, but wonderfully also that.
We’re preparing next steps.
We are pursuing justice, grounded in love.
We’ve crossed a line, there’s no turning back.
We don’t wish to turn back.
We hope you will soon be We.
