What if he was black?
Crossing gang lines with a gun
Darnel sat handcuffed to the bench in a cold room with no windows at Metro PD. It had only taken a matter of seconds, but even the smallest of details had been burned into his brain. A reel of memory clips, something straight out of a horror movie, kept replaying in his head on an endless mashed up loop. The loop would go from 2x speed to super slow motion. It would flash from seeing himself from above, as if he had left his body, to zooming in on the smallest of details, like a single tiny drop of blood in the mist of spray from the gunshot wound inflicted on the third man he shot that night. He was shaking, almost convulsing. He could smell the dried blood and gunpowder on his clothes. His stomach kept trying to empty itself even though it had been empty for hours. He was alone and scared. Even more scared now than when those four men had rushed him on the street.
Darnel was a good kid from a dangerous neighborhood in a big city. Different gangs had been beefing over control of territory in the city long before Darnell was born. When he was four his daddy had been gunned down a few blocks to the north of the corner Darnell had defended his own life on that night. His momma was a junky.
When he was six his grams had to take him and his little sisters into her home and raised them up. Miss June, as she was known on the block, was tough as nails. She was strict with Darnell because she loved that boy and wasn’t about to lose him to the streets like she had lost his daddy. She had kept Darnel straight, kept him from running the streets and focused on his school work. Miss June was constantly telling him, “Your job is to do good in school so you can get you and your sisters out of this neighborhood.”
Miss June had taught Darnel right from wrong. Yet she knew that was not enough. She wanted him to be safe and had taught him how to use his granddaddy’s revolver. She was afraid for him every time he had to leave the house and had encouraged him to keep that pistol in his pocket for protection. Darnel had the discipline to not act a fool and go around stirring up trouble by flashing his gun around. The night that changed his life forever was the first time he had to use his pistol to deter a threat or defend himself.
You see, Miss June was old and didn’t get out of the house often. On her best days she could hobble around the house with a cane, on a normal day she needed to use her walker, and on a rough day she needed help to get up out of her chair. Lately, her health had declined and nearly every day was a rough one for her. Earlier that night she asked Darnel to walk down to the corner store and bring her back a few things. It was just another normal hot summer night. The idea that she wouldn’t see Darnel again for six weeks was the furthest thing from her mind when he walked out that door into the fading evening light.
Darnel had no idea he was about to commit the offense of crossing gang lines with a gun. He knew the local crew that controlled the blocks around where he lived had been beefing with the white boys over West of 53rd. What he didn’t know was the night before they had taken the block the bodega was on.
Darnell crossed that invisible gang border at 52nd. Halfway down the block he could see there was four of them white boys outside the store. He paused for a second and considered going back the other way, but it was hot. The nearest store in that direction was twenty blocks away and six blocks deep into a territory, over another gang border, that was controlled by Latinos. Darnell thought to himself, “Just be cool, you only need to get in and out of the store” and kept on down the block. Darnel never wanted to hurt anyone, but he was strong and refused to be a victim.
Darnel reached the end of the block as the sky faded to darkness. There was a mouthy little punk that started in on Darnell as he waited for the light to change and the cross traffic to stop. “What the fuck you doing over here?” the small one yelled. Darnel eyed them up and saw at least one of them was strapped, but he did not speak. The traffic light changed and when Darnell started crossing the street he watched the four of them advance across the parking lot. The little one was leading the way and increasing the intensity of the shit talking spitting from his mouth directed at Darnel. Darnel’s grip on the pistol in his pocket tightened as the gap between them closed. As he kept walking towards the door of the store Darnel ignored him until the little one got right up in his face and was screaming, “I asked you what the fuck you doing here boy! You tryna start some shit?”
Bystanders had noticed the commotion before he crossed the street and had started filming with their phones. As he took a step back Darnel pulled the pistol from his pocket and held it at his side. Darnel spoke with firm yet kind tone while looking the unhinged lunatic straight in the eye, “I’m just getting some things from the store for my Grams. I dont want no trouble with y’all.”
The little one was triggered by the kindness and complete lack of perceptible fear coming from Darnel. Mighty Mouse was looking for a fight and having his challenge denied set him the fuck off. At the top of his lungs he started shouting, “Shoot me ni@#er!” He was stepping at Darnel yelling it over and over as his crew worked to restrain him. All this craziness had drawn everyone within ear shot towards the scene like moths to a flame.
It wasn’t long before there were way too many eyes on the white boys. Darnel sidestepped, returned the pistol to his pocket as the bangers withdrew the threat, and went into the store. As taught by Miss June, he took his time in the store. Her words echoed in his head, “You got to diffuse the situation son, you gots to let them cooler heads prevail Darnel.” He gathered the things from the store and paid the clerk. He stepped through the door returning his hand to his pocket and finding comfort in the texture of the checkered grip in his hand. The crowd had mostly gone away while he was in the store. He headed toward the crosswalk, his head on a swivel, making sure that maniac and his homies were gone. They were.
Darnel crossed 53rd with a big full moon low on the horizon ahead of him. Calm and peace returned to him as he headed up the block. His heart was back to beating normally. That fleeting moment was the last time he felt normal. Ever since those twelve seconds that were about to change his life forever, Darnel was rarely free from anxiety, sadness, or the haunting from the memories permanently etched into his mind.
As he passed the alley between 53rd and 52nd he heard someone shout, “Get him!” From the corner of his eye he caught movement. The little one was charging straight for him. As Darnel took off running his hand went for his pocket. He looked over his shoulder and could see the crazy one was chasing after him. Darnel twisted his body around and pointed the gun. It did nothing to deter the attacker and Darnel cut across the street and headed back towards the alley. He could hear the footsteps behind him over the thumping of his heart in his chest. When Darnel reached the alley he was met with the blinding headlights from a car coming his direction. He suddenly felt panicked and trapped. A gunshot rang out from behind him and as he turned back to go the other way he heard the little guy scream, “Fuck You!” Their shoes were separated by four feet. In a fraction of a second the little guy was right on top of him lunging and when he grabbed the barrel of of the pistol Darnel pulled the trigger.
Everything happened in an instant. There was no time for thinking things through. For Darnel his reaction was purely instinctual. He had fired two shots in rapid succession. In the time it takes to snap your fingers the little guy had been shot twice, laid out face first in the alley, and began bleeding to death. The other three men were now charging at Darnel and he turned to his left and headed back towards the bodega. As he sprinted for what he hoped would be the safety they pursued him yelling, “Cranium that boy! Get him, get him, get him!”
Darnel stumbled and fell in the street. As he began to get himself back on his feet the second of his assailants launched himself in the air. Darnel felt the boot impact his cheek as he raised his pistol and fired as the man passed over top. The force of the collision spun Darnel around in the street. Something hard struck Darnel in the back of the head knocking him over onto his side. He could feel the pistol being wrenched from his grip and he fired. The third attacker stumbled off towards the curb. He turned to see the fourth man standing over him, hands raised holding a handgun. Their feet were almost touching. As soon as Darnel averted his eyes from the last man he made his move. He stepped toward Darnel simultaneously dropping his hands and tried to draw down on Darnel’s head. For Darnel it was all automatic. He had no time to think. His lizard brain had entirely taken over. Darnel squeezed the trigger and with the barrel of his pistol mere inches from the mans arm there was an eruption of vaporized flesh and blood.
Twelve seconds.
Six gunshots.
Two men dead.
One man seriously injured.
All of it caught on film.
Darnel defended his life and because of that he was alive, but his ordeal had only begun.
The cops were on the scene within minutes. Darnel kept his mouth shut and was taken into police custody. As fate would have it, Darnel was about to cross paths two men that were far more dangerous than any street gangster. These men had all the power of the state behind them. Darnel’s future was now in their hands.
One was a flamboyant narcissist with a bottomless well of ambition, fully seeded with dreams of political glory. The sky was the limit for Assistant District Attorney Fluffer. The other was a man of little ambition who was filled with repressed anger for the hand life had dealt him. He got off on the power the state gave him to ruin other people’s lives by locking them in cages. ADA Sour was little more than a 330 pound vindictive prick. The pair quickly went to work bringing the full force of the law to bear down on Darnel.
Within hours the pair were filing criminal charges. Before there was time for an investigation they had booked him into the county jail on 5 felonies and a misdemeanor. When Darnel made his first court appearance he faced two counts of murder, two counts attempted murder, one count reckless endangerment, and a misdemeanor gun charge. If he were convicted on all counts Darnel would be sentenced to more than 100 years.
Between the night of the shooting and the date his trial was set to begin the legacy media went to work crafting the official narrative. This narrative, of course, was favorable to the state. Darnel was a black man, which alone made it easy to paint him a criminal that deserved to be attacked that night because he made it known he was armed. The guy that was tossing around racial epithets wasn’t a racist, nor a white supremacist. He was just an angry white street thug gang banger that didn’t hate black people, he simply didn’t like anyone that was not part of his gang. The little guy simply grew up poor and became “a victim of the streets.”
For Fluffer, Darnel became a meal ticket. This was the high profile case every politically ambitious prosecutor dreams about. If he could convict this kid he could write his own future in politics. District Attorney. Attorney General. Heck, he may even be able to springboard this case into becoming the Governor or a US Senator. To Sour, Darnel was just another criminal whose life he could ruin.
While the legacy media went into overdrive censoring information to control the narrative, many people from a broad range of backgrounds were on the side of Darnel. The black community started up a Go Fund Me and raised 50k for his defense. Money came from the community of “gun lovers” who saw the video and knew his case for what it was: self defense. But Darnel was black and poor. The full force of the criminal justice system was against him. The Judge did not allow cameras into the courtroom for Darnel’s trial. The result was that all of the bullshit the prosecutors did to Darnel was kept behind a curtain. The legacy media kept tight control over the narrative and turned a blind eye to the injustice that happened at his trial.
During Darnel’s trial Fluffer and Sour pulled out all the stops. They wanted to win at all costs, justice be damned, for they were both on personal vendettas. During the trial they were able to railroad Darnel with a long list of fuckery…
Had the lead detective testify that the charges were filed before he had completed an investigation
They suborned perjury when they put a witness on the stand they knew would lie in a manner that would benefit their case
They abused their power in order to keep witnesses from testifying by charging them with crimes that would have them answering any question in court with, “I plead the 5th”
They kept the man that kicked Darnel in the face from testifying by lying to the court, claiming that he had never been positively identified
They withheld video evidence from the defense during discovery and introduced it during the trial so it could be used as an ace in the hole for a conviction
When Darnel took the stand they asked him about why he had remained silent from the time police arrived on the scene until testifying in court, which was a violation of his rights
They attempted to introduce prior evidence when questioning Darnel after the judge had ruled it to be inadmissible
They had the state crime lab “enhance” two still images from the video footage and gaslighted the judge for being a boomer that didn’t understand technology to dupe him into admitting the manufactured photos
They told the court that the evidence that they failed to turn over in discovery had been Air Dropped to one of the detectives at the police station by an unknown person
When the defense rightly pointed out they had figured out the video evidence the prosecution delivered was different than the evidence used by them in court, they claimed they didn’t know anything about altering video footage, but they knew that it was somehow the defense’s fault for having android phones, that the email program altered the video, it was a detective’s fault, the other prosecutor did it
the whole time they had been using an evidence computer that had software capable of altering video installed on it while simultaneously they had no idea how to manipulate video footage
they refused to drop the gun charge they knew was bunk and forced the Judge to toss it out only after the trial was complete and they finally conceded it didn’t really apply to Darnel
It should come as no surprise that Darnel got convicted and sent to prison for the rest of his life.
What happened to Darnel in this story is what would have happened to Kyle if he were black.
The criminal justice system is chock full of Bingers and Krauses. Those two did ALL OF THE THINGS on that list during Kyle’s trial and that is a truth ‘people on the left’ need to acknowledge. No matter how much you may hate Kyle, or what he represents to you. Regardless of you’re being convinced he is a murderer, if you really stand for justice you need to be deeply troubled by what those asshole prosecutors were trying to pull in that court. If there had not been cameras in that courtroom they would have gotten away with it all and secured a conviction on all counts. And that ain't justice.
Criminal proceedings in the US are a problem and ‘people on the right' need to wake the fuck up and start acknowledging the truth. There are a lot of you out there that have never faced a case in a criminal court, living in some naive dream about how “the system works.” You trust it is fair, that prosecutors wouldn’t dare do any of those things they did to Kyle to you. They will, and they will especially do it to anyone that cannot afford an attorney.
There are definite things that all people who desire justice can unite behind that will bring about meaningful changes. There needs to be more transparency. All criminal trials should be recorded and broadcast. The public has the right to know what is really happening in courtrooms everywhere. Prosecutors get to run roughshod all over people charged with crimes and are given immunity by the courts that protects them from consequences for nearly any wrongdoing.
It’s wrong. All of it is wrong. If enough of us can find the common ground and come together we can fight back, bring about change, and protect people from being violated by the very people who are supposed to be upholding justice.