Last night, just a few hours after the vigil for the children, the Portland Police killed a Black man named Patrick Kimmons. We don't know the full story, but he was related to people active in Don't Shoot Portland, he was the father of two young children, and he was shot--witnesses say 12 times, in the back--while running from the police. Two others, apparently in the wrong place at the wrong time, were caught in police gunfire and were wounded, but we don't yet know who they are or how they are doing. The police have released very little information. His family has not been allowed to view his body, but there were two enormous high-tech "forensic evidence" vehicles a block from where he was killed, and where the vigil arose. While his family and friends are standing in the street crying and hugging each other, the police are creating a narrative that will justify killing him.
So once again a vigil came together--flowers, candles, people chalking names of loved ones lost to police violence. His name becomes another hashtag. We are so good at this. It happens so often.
This woman was singing and playing the ukulele near where people were leaving flowers. The usual people were there--activist Teressa Raiford, Quanice Hayes' grandmother Donna, and the people I often see at these things, people who care about Black lives. Some members of his family were present at the vigil, dazed and disoriented, unable to say his name was Patrick.