By J.R. Labbe
jrlabbe@ star-telegram.com
Fort Worth Police Chief Jeff Halstead wishes he could turn back the clock to the three seconds before one of his officers saved his own life by taking that of Charal "RaRa" Thomas.
The truth is Halstead's time manipulation would have to go back much further than Feb. 28 to undo the anguish and rage that has followed the shooting of a black motorist by a white officer, J. Romer.
Anyone watching news footage from a Thursday meeting at Holy Tabernacle Church of God in Christ saw the pain and heard the anger of the residents of east and southeast Fort Worth.
Missing from the clips was any recognition that the responsibility for the tragic circumstances that night doesn't lie solely with Romer.
It rests just as much with Thomas, who endangered himself, three of his children and another adult passenger by refusing to follow Romer's request to get out of the SUV.
And it rests with a community that willingly paints Thomas as a victim.
For many blacks, Romer is the physical embodiment of centuries of mistreatment of African-Americans in this country at the hands of powerful whites.
For many whites, Thomas represents generations of black men whose criminal behavior is excused by their community as an acceptable byproduct of that historic abuse.
Festering and unresolved black vs. white grievances are never far beneath the surface of biracial social interaction. It is an indisputable fact that dreadful deeds were perpetrated on people in this country because of their race. In some cases, they still are.
But from what is known about the Thomas case, this is not a situation in which a black man was beat down by "the man" unjustly.
Thomas, 32, was thrice-convicted for drug-related offenses and served time. If he'd learned the lesson that society forever hopes will be learned when convicts are released -- that lawlessness isn't worth the consequences so it's best to leave that way of life behind -- then there wouldn't have been multiple warrants out for his arrest the night narcotics officers directed Thomas to stop his vehicle.
As the investigation continues, it may determine that Romer violated department procedure by reaching into the driver's window in an attempt to unlock the door after Thomas refused to get out. Halstead said Thursday that officers are not trained to respond in that way under those circumstances.
Thomas may indeed have been a loving father to his six children. But he alone escalated the situation to the point that three of those children and the other man in the car were in danger.
Sadly, the blanket condemnations of "we don't like you" directed at Halstead and his officers Thursday were as unfair to every man and woman who wears a law enforcement uniform as is stereotyping an entire group of people based only on skin color.
People bring their own life experiences into play when trying to tiptoe through the minefield that is this incident.
My experiences include participating in police ride-alongs with the narcotics and SWAT units when I was the editor of the
Grand Prairie Daily News in the late 1980s.
I will never forget witnessing the defiance of a 4-year-old toward officers who were executing a search warrant at his grandmother's small wood-frame house that served as a Dalworth neighborhood storefront for illicit drugs.
Hatred twisted the little boy's face as he balled his hands into fists and told the narcotics officers: "I know why you be here. You be looking for drugs and guns."
Then he spit out the f-word at the officers. At age 4. I've often wondered, in the ensuing decades, what kind of a man that child grew up to be.
Police didn't create the situation that poisoned that young boy's mind; his family did. And police didn't create the situation that placed three of Charal Thomas' children in jeopardy the night of RaRa's death.
Turning back a broken clock doesn't do any good. We need a new clock.
Jill "J.R." Labbe is editorial director of the Star-Telegram.817-390-7599Twitter @jrlabbe55
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