I never thought that this type of tragic death would occur again. EVER! The day you arrested me for allegedly committing a crime, I figured I’d have my day in court, but I’d still be able to breathe.
Nevertheless, you threw me to the ground while I had on your handcuffs. You claimed I struggled to get free, but even so, I wasn’t going anywhere. You then plunged your knee onto my neck, and I screamed, “I can’t breathe!”
As three minutes passed by and I constantly screamed, “I can’t breathe,” you stoically looked up at the conscientious person filming you murdering me, but you never relented. I can’t breathe!
You disrespected my life and mortified community members, whom you swore to protect and serve. You made them watch another Black man murdered by a rogue police officer. Who will pay for this psychological trauma coupled with the more than four hundred years of similar disrespect? I can’t breathe!
I called for my “Momma,” who died years ago, hoping her spirit would remove your knee. I screamed for water. I yelled, “They’re going to kill me,” and you still didn’t lift your knee. I can’t breathe!
After four minutes, I thought your partner, a person of color who has been deemed a model minority, would save me from your brutality. We believed he’d be the equalizer. Instead, he held the Blue Line and shielded your co-conspirators who also knelt on my body. His unconscionable, nonchalant facial expressions and inaction proved he co-signed your behavior. I can’t breathe!
During the sixth minute, as I lay unconscious on the ground, my lifeless body should’ve revealed that I would no longer be a threat to anyone, and still, you didn’t remove your knee from my neck. As you so casually kept your hand in your pants pocket, I wasn’t able to tell you, “I can’t breathe!”
After enduring excruciating pain in my last almost nine minutes of life, you thought that would be the end of my story. When the EMTs arrived and checked my pulse, but never attempted to revive me, it was only then that you reluctantly removed your crushing bodyweight from my neck.
They then heedlessly dragged my limp body onto the gurney and hastily pushed me into the ambulance, which whisked me away for what would be the inevitable cover-up investigation. You smugly walked away from the crime scene justified in your actions but to the contrary.
While I can no longer breathe, I didn’t die alone. Those who now breathe for me will plumb the depths of the otherwise criminal unjust system and seek my justice. Your day of reckoning will come soon enough. My name was George Floyd.
Reflective Thoughts 