Parable of the poster child after protesting (op-ed)

My sophomore summer back home from college, I participated in a “Free Mumia” march.

Mumia Abu-Jamal was a radio host and former Black Panther.

He was convicted of murdering a police officer and sentenced to death in 1982. On June 1, 1995 Pennsylvania’s new governor Tom Ridge signed Abu-Jamal’s death warrant.

Around this time I was in a local black bookstore and the owner gave me a flyer advertising the march. I recognized the name because a friend of mine had a copy of Abu-Jamal’s book Live from Death Row. But I knew nothing else about his case and had no opinion on his guilt or innocence.

I guess the bookstore owner sensed my ignorance and proclaimed Mumia’s innocence with an intensity that moved me to march. Then he offered to sell me Live from Death Row at a discounted price. I wasn’t buying it.

I read the flyer.

It was loaded with racial rhetoric, but I ascertained the state was going to execute an innocent man that wasn’t given a fair trial.

The march to the state building began at a place called Freedom Corner. The crowd was large and diverse. The event was a coordinated effort by different local organizations. The only group I could distinguish was the Nation of Islam. One NOI member offered me a Final Call newspaper. I wasn’t buying it.

As we marched there was a college age group of whites that passed out literature to bystanders and passengers in cars.

One elderly white woman read the literature, got out of the car, and joined the march. Everyone that witnessed it cheered, word spread through the crowd of the newcomer, and by the time we reached the state building she was a celebrity. Every speaker mentioned her death row/Damascus road conversion before they addressed the crux of the matter. And the core arguments of each presentation made me angry.

But my anger wasn’t at what was being done to Mumia Abu-Jamal. My anger was directed toward the demonstration, because I wasn’t buying it.

I wondered what particular cause was promoted in the literature the woman received that motivated her to join the march, because after listening to the speakers I didn’t know what the cause was anymore.

I was motivated by the passion of the bookstore owner and attended to prevent the execution of an innocent man.

But not one speaker mentioned his innocence.

Then I noticed the protest signs scatter through the crowd. One said something like, “Capital Punishment is a Crime against Humanity”, and others had catchy slogans condemning the criminal justice system and racism in general.

Then a poet accompanied by a bongo player preformed. And during his profanity laced recital that insinuated black people were still slaves, I realized I didn’t have a stance on capital punishment, but my presence at this gathering meant I was against the execution even if he was guilty.

That was not my intention and I left uninspired.

Last week I read a headline that said: Assault charges dropped against Baltimore cop in Freddie Gray case.

Freddie Gray was arrested last year and died in police custody. 

After his funeral Baltimore erupted with rioting and looting due to the circumstances of Grey’s death.

But if it was unjust to begin with, it would remain unjust a year later, especially after a black prosecutor's failure to secure a single conviction.

But the article stated, “About a dozen protesters, the largest group since the trial began, stood outside the courthouse, holding signs referencing the recent killings of black men in Louisiana and Minnesota.” (Which translates into “Freddie who?”)

Later that week an NOI member offered me an old edition of their newspaper because the cover featured police brutality, to him it was timely even though it was outdated, and of course … you got it … I wasn’t buying it.

First published in the New Pittsburgh Courier 7/20/16