Posted: Wednesday, 03 June 2009 11:34AM
Who Speaks For Brenda Williams?
Steve Corbett Reporting
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Even in death, Brenda Williams extended great dignity and power to those who found themselves in her presence. At eternal rest in her coffin in the sad hour before her funeral service, her face reflected a silent grace, offering quiet solace for those who stood before her to pay a final respect.
Scranton police shot and killed Williams last week in her second-floor apartment after responding to a report of a disturbance.
Details are sketchy while Pennsylvania State Police conduct an investigation.
Williams wielded a knife, according to newspaper reports, although no police official has publicly confirmed that fact. What is confirmed is that Williams was a troubled woman who suffered from mental illness, a 52-year-old Air Force veteran who needed help.
Instead, she found death at the hands of police.
Standing before her coffin yesterday, I looked at the photograph of Williams that family had balanced against the soft casket satin. Wearing a big smile, Williams posed in her military uniform and seemed to have the world at her fingertips.
Looking at her folded hands, I knew that her fingertips now remained still forever.
No more would she tickle the keys of the alto saxophone she once played so well. No more would she hold her daughter who sat in the front row of the church during services with wet tears streaming down her cheeks.
Now the city where Williams lived all her life will forever frame a tragedy that left her in a pool of blood that poured from her body when the gunfire stopped.
Four Scranton police officers remain on paid leave until the investigation is finished.
Williams is dead and gone.
But the power of community that speaker after speaker stressed during her funeral remains.
That power serves as a beacon that guides the search for truth for the many God-fearing family members and friends who now expect answers to the many unanswered questions that make Williams’ death all the harder to understand.
Too many versions of what happened are circulating throughout the city.
And there is no way to avoid pointing out the stark fact that four white men killed this black woman who might have lived if only the professionals on the scene had found another way.
Second-guessing the cops will draw criticism. But unless we second-guess the cops this sad and violent act might happen again. PSP will hopefully second-guess every move the officers on the scene made. Unless that happens another mentally ill resident of this city might fall in a burst of bullets that with training might be avoided.
Scranton police simply do not receive enough training to handle what cops call EDPs, emotionally disturbed persons.
Standing in the rear of the church yesterday, I listened to a wise church elder and former pastor reassure the congregation that the truth will set us free.
“If it doesn’t come out in the wash, it will come out in the rinse,” he said to laughter that broke the somber tension that filled the church.
I sensed a growing confidence that will be necessary to take on the system that I expect to be less than forthcoming with the answers that are required for everyone to learn from what Williams’ brother called a “senseless” act.
Yesterday, Williams’ lifeless body helped provide power to those who felt her spirit, a power that will be imperative for those who want to carry the torch of truth and shine it on every incident where police respond to a call for help.
Death often nurtures the quest for social justice.
Sometimes enemies become friends. Sometimes friends become enemies.
In this case, the end must become the beginning as we ask ourselves over and over again, “Who speaks for Brenda Williams?”
We must look ourselves in the mirror and ask if we truly care about each other and about the city we love. We must reflect on what went wrong last week. We must promise to do our best to help rather than hurt.
Williams now dwells in what a pastor yesterday called “her mansion.”
We must now ask ourselves what we plan to do about this sad and violent place that we call home.
Life and death hang in the balance of our response.
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Corbett
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