Atatiana Jefferson’s family waits for justice 1 year after Fort Worth police shooting
One year ago, a single gunshot changed a Fort Worth family forever.
Nearly a year has passed since a Fort Worth police officer shot and killed Atatiana Jefferson. In that year, people across the country have seen and protested several high-profile deaths at the hands of police — George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and others.
In the year since Aaron Dean fired his gun through a window at Jefferson’s home and killed her, COVID-19 took over the globe and thousands of other headlines have come and gone in Fort Worth. But Jefferson’s family never left that moment on Oct. 12, 2019.
Her sister Ashley Carr described the family as “at a standstill.”
“Everyone is moving around me, and I’m stuck,” Carr said. “I can’t move. I can’t move forward.”
The violence of Jefferson’s death continues to shake her sisters and cousin, especially as people of color continue to be killed by police across the United States.
Each time a Black person is killed at the hands of police, “it’s like a wound opened up again every time,” Cerese Fortson, Jefferson’s cousin, said.
“There’s no healing,” she said. “Not only are we trying to get justice for Atatiana, but now it’s another person who met the same fate. It’s like a wound that never heals.”
When she hears something in the middle of the night, Fortson said she is “not afraid that it’s a burglary.”
“I’m afraid it’s the cops,” she said.
A family’s ‘pride and joy’
Jefferson, affectionately called “Tay” by family and friends, was the pride and joy of her family, Carr and Fortson said. As a child, she was a quick thinker and even quicker to tackle a challenge.
“She was always climbing trees,” Fortson said. “I would say, ‘That tree is kind of big, I don’t know...’ and before I could finish my sentence, she would be at the top level. And not even that, but then she would jump down.”
Unlike her cousins and siblings, Jefferson did not spend her money on candy and toys when she was little, but saved the money carefully. She had her mind set that she was going to buy herself a bike, and she saved each dollar until she did so.
Her money-saving mentality continued into adulthood as she paid her way through Xavier University in Louisiana to major in biology.
She told her sister Ashley she planned on becoming a doctor.
“She told me, ‘I’m going to do pre-med,’” Ashley recalled. “And I said, ‘OK, when you get to organic chemistry that will be the test for that.’”
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At the end of that semester, Jefferson called Ashley and told her, “Oh yeah, that was a piece of cake.”
As Jefferson saved up for medical school, she worked in pharmaceutical equipment sales and moved back home to help her mother, whose health was declining.
“I just thought that she’s gonna be this big person everyone is going to look to for answers and an example,” Fortson said. “And I’m not disappointed in what she became. She had so much more to give, so much more to do.”
Atatiana Jefferson’s death
Jefferson, 28, was busy with one of her favorite hobbies on the night she died. At 2:30 a.m., she and her 8-year-old nephew Zion were playing video games at her family’s house in the 1200 block of East Allen Avenue. The door was propped open to let in a pleasantly cool breeze.
A neighbor noticed the door was open and thought it was unusual for the time of night. He called a non-emergency number to ask someone to check on the home. About three minutes later, two officers parked around the corner from the house, went into the backyard and, when Jefferson looked out the back window, one of them shot her.
Protests and anger rippled through Fort Worth.
Dean resigned and was charged with murder two days after he shot Jefferson, and he was indicted by a grand jury in December. But COVID-19 halted most court proceedings, and Dean’s trial has not moved forward.
“Our family would have wanted a swift justice process, but we understand due to COVID, there is no jury selection, no jury trials, so we have to wait,” Ashley Carr said. “But that’s an odd place to just sit and wait. You can’t go forward and can’t go backwards. You’re just stuck in the moment.”
Jefferson’s death had devastating results on the family. In January, Jefferson’s mother died in the same home where her daughter had been shot three months prior. Ashley said she has no doubt Yolanda Carr died because of the heartbreak and stress that Jefferson’s death caused.
Yolanda, whose health had already been declining, would wake up crying from dreams of her daughter. But she was not ready to die, Ashley said. She talked about going to “get her some wigs and some outfits and get out there protesting.” More than anything, she wanted to keep fighting for justice for her daughter.
“She wanted to scream her baby’s name,” Ashley said. “How she left was abrupt, too. She was ready to go fight. She wasn’t ready to go.”
“I can still hear her and hear her pain,” Fortson said.
Atatiana Jefferson’s nephew, Zion, also had his life upended when his aunt was shot in front of him.
Ashley Carr said Zion “experienced unchildlike things that none of us should ever experience,” but he has used Jefferson’s death as a way to speak up for the community. In August, he planned two protests in Fort Worth and Dallas. He encouraged city leadership to increase spending for STEM education and The Atatiana Project.
The family had several events planned for this weekend in honor of Jefferson — starting with a Praise in the Park at Kiest Park in Dallas from 4 to 7 p.m. on Saturday. On Sunday a car parade will begin at 3 p.m. at 3033 South Freeway in Fort Worth, followed by food, fellowship and a candlelight vigil at the Jefferson home in the 1200 block of East Allen Avenue in Fort Worth at 4:30 p.m. A balloon release and memorial will be held at Lincoln Cemetery at 10 a.m. Monday.
Police reform
Some might have described Jefferson as quiet, but that was only because they did not know her well enough, Ashley Carr said. Those close to her knew she could talk your ear off, and “it was always, always words of thought, words of knowledge.”
But now, “no one hears her voice.”
“There has to be some type of police reform,” Ashley said. “There has to be some kind of accountability for shots that are taken.”
Some of that reform should include defunding the police, which unfortunately has been taken out of context by people to mean getting rid of police altogether, Ashley said. Instead, the movement is about reallocating a city’s money to create more community outreach and mental health programs.
“It’s the city’s money and it’s how the city decides to budget the police,” Ashley said. “It’s redistributing the money.”
During Black Lives Matter protests in Fort Worth following George Floyd’s death in Minneapolis this summer, protesters often included Jefferson in chants.
“What’s her name?” someone would shout.
“Atatiana Jefferson!” the crowd would answer.
And yet, Jefferson’s family fears her story is being forgotten. As COVID-19 continues to stall Dean’s trial, and police reform continues to be debated in Fort Worth, all the family can do is remember, and wait.
This story was originally published October 9, 2020 at 5:00 AM.
