After Memphis, peals of unity in defining justice

The public response to another incident of police brutality offers one measure of progress toward ensuring law enforcement stays with the law.

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AP
J. Lawrence Turner, pastor of Mississippi Boulevard Christian Church, speaks to a reporter at City Hall in response to the investigation of the death of Tyre Nichols.

Since the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis in May 2020, more than 4,500 reform bills have been considered by all 50 state legislatures and the District of Columbia. At least 230 have been enacted into law, affecting recruitment practices and conduct on the beat and creating new systems for public oversight. Additional measures are shaping debates about law enforcement in city councils and police departments across the country.

When another tragic incident of police violence jars the nation, like the fatal Jan. 7 beating of Tyre Nichols by five officers in Memphis, Tennessee, all of that work is thrown into doubt – as if, yet again, nothing has changed. Yet the events of these past few days and the legal process that followed Mr. Nichols’ death – all five officers have been fired and charged with second-degree murder, and the special anti-violence unit they served shut down – challenge that conclusion. They show how far Americans have moved in recent years toward a shared view of justice based on equality, empathy, and accountability.

“It’s important to note that changing violent behavior and violent subculture is a long-term and difficult process,” Professor Howard Henderson, of the Center for Justice Research at Texas Southern University, told a local news channel in Houston. “I think we’re moving forward. ... You have to promote transparency and openness.”

One measure of that progress was the public’s response to the video images of the assault on Mr. Nichols – and to the swift action taken by authorities. No cities burned. No one was hurt. In gatherings and protest marches across the country, city officials and police chiefs joined with clergy and ordinary citizens in shared anguish.

“To all our communities, but especially to the Black and brown men of Boston: You deserve to feel and be safe,” Mayor Michelle Wu told a vigil for Mr. Nichols Friday night at a new monument to Martin Luther King Jr. and Coretta Scott King. “Please know that we see you and we love you.”

That empathy was not just reserved for the victims of police brutality. Despite the troubled relationship between law enforcement and minority communities, the police remains the second- and third-most-trusted public institution in the United States, according to surveys by Gallup and Pew, respectively.

“We can’t just be onlookers,” the Rev. J. Lawrence Turner told his congregation at the Mississippi Boulevard Christian Church in Memphis on Sunday. “That means we’ve got to have some brave conversations with those who are in leadership. You don’t have to have hate in your heart to hold somebody accountable.”

It requires time and statistics to measure the effectiveness of policy reforms. “While policies matter, the culture and context of the police department and the community it serves are also important factors in police violence,” states a University of Michigan study of police reforms.

One reliable indicator of change is already apparent. The fatigue that for so long was heard only in the pulpits of Black churches now resonates increasingly from the front steps of city halls and police stations in a unison of appeals for inclusive justice.

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