What more can be said about Derek Chauvin?

 

I love sitting at my desk, late at night, looking out the big window to my right at the back yard. It’s peaceful and quiet, flooded with soft light from the fixtures over the door of the main house and at the side of my house. I know, I know—we should treasure the darkness, and I do. But lights in the yard—and a motion sensitive light in the driveway—make me feel safe, even with an electronic gate that is firmly closed. In our neighborhood, we have what we call night visitors—people, usually young men, who check out driveways to see who has left a car unlocked with anything from pocket change to computers available for the taking. Also, just for my own pleasure, I have a light outside my French doors with a screen or something that throws tiny specks of green light on the wall of the back house next to me. I love looking at that display, even when I wake in the night, and have recently discovered that it stays on until about six in the morning. Wasteful, I know, and I should re-set it, but I’m not sure how to do that. So I just enjoy.

Tonight, Jacob was out hitting golf balls against his practice net in the driveway, but now he has gone inside, and all the dogs are in for the night. The yard is quiet and peaceful, and that’s the way I feel. Peaceful.

Like so many across our country, I am relieved, satisfied, ecstatic about the verdict in the Derek Chauvin trial, though I try to imagine what it would be like to be him and know the country is rejoicing because he’s been convicted. But then, I cannot imagine being him and keeping a knee on a man’s neck for over nine minutes. I want to feel some sympathy, some emotion for any human being, but he makes it hard.

I kept the TV on most of the day, muted, curious to see if the verdict would come back. I knew that if it came today, it would be guilty; if any jurors were unconvinced, it could make for long, drawn out deliberations. I told myself that having twelve jurors agree unanimously to three charges was a long shot, and I was geared not to expect much.

I napped, as I always do, this afternoon—and dreamt that the verdict came back. So I was only a bit surprised to wake up, look at my phone, and see that the verdict was in. I rushed to turn on the TV and got so carried away I did not do my PT exercises. (I suppose I may be forgiven one day’s vacation.) I was struck by the peaceful yet joyous crowds outside the courtroom, the flickering of Chauvin’s eyes as the verdict was read, though he tried to show no emotion, and the passionate speeches by President Biden and Vice-President Harris.

The internet is full of hopeful messages that this is the beginning of a new era in law enforcement, albeit with a recognition that change comes slowly. I don’t know about that. Even as I read all those positive statements, I remembered Sandy Hook. We thought surely that horrific slaughter of innocent children would bring a wave of gun control measures—and nothing happened. After a week or two, the world went on, leaving devastated families to grieve and cope as best they could. The Floyd family has gotten public support—tonight, it was everyone from Al Sharpton to—was that Jesse Jackson in the background? But President Obama went to Sandy Hook, spoke, and cried. I can only hope that this time the nation’s compassion has come out, this time we recognize what’s happening to our country, this time we see that, as the mayor of Minneapolis said, we cannot continue to live this way.

Even as the verdict was being read, a teen-age girl in Ohio called police because girls were fighting outside her house. They arrived and shot the girl who had called four times. And though I haven’t seen blowback, I hear that police across the country are threatening to resign. And a recent interview (was it 60 Minutes?) revealed that police are training Poor Boys and Oath Keepers in police and military tactics. It’s hard to cling to hope in the face of such outrages.

I am, by nature, an optimist, so tonight I cling to hope. I pray that this momentous day marks a starting point for change, that Americans rise up against police brutality and for gun control, that George Floyd did not die in vain. Pray with me, please.