All language subtitles for Notes.from.the.Field.2018.1080p.WEBRip.x264-RARBG3_English

( audience applauding )

( mic feedback )

I get asked that question
all the time.

"What is the number one
civil rights issue
of the day?"

You know,
in magazine interviews--
you have to start ranking.

I'm very uncomfortable
with that question

because it is impossible

to talk about
the criminal justice system,

mass incarceration,

without
talking about education.

Because this country
is always engaged
in investments.

We make
big investments, right?

We make big bets.

The 1950s, this country
massively invested

in the creation
of the suburbs.

We created
an interstate highway system.

We provided,
you know, tax credits,

to developers
to build suburbs--

which are
racially exclusionary,
by the way--

we made an investment
in creating a middle class,

really going back
to the 1930s

where the federal government
started to insure mortgages--

only insured mortgages
for white people--

but we made an investment.

We made an investment

after the war
with the GI Bill

in the decision that we wanted
our veterans to come home
and become middle class.

So we make
these massive investments.

Now today, we pretend
that we don't make investments.

Because we talk about
balancing the budget

and the deficit,
but we always
make investments.

And one
of the huge investments
that we made

was in the criminal
justice system,

and that investment was made

at the expense
of other investments.

We have taken dollars
that we used to give

and that we could give

to invest in the issue
of mental illness.

It's not that we're not
investing in mental illness,
we are.

We're investing in it
in the prison system.

It's not,
you know, that we decided
to cut the budget

and so we're not
investing in education.

Yeah, kind of.

We took it
to the prison system.

So what we do is,
we take these investments

that we could make,
these big bets,

and we place them somewhere.

And that's what
we call policy.

Which, you know,
makes people's eyes
glaze over,

but we should understand
that policy is made up
of the investments

that we, as a society,
decide to make.

There's a lot of heaviness
in the country

at the moment,
a lot of pain.

But sometimes, you have
to have these moments

if we're going to move
our society forward.

It takes moments,

kind of almost epic moments,
to move us.

And there-- there is a way

in which we are confronting
this moment.

And there's a privilege
in that confrontation.

- ( applause )
- ( music playing )

( distorted audio
of man yelling )

Woman:
That boy's leg look broke.

- Woman #2: Oh, my God.
- His leg broke

and y'all dragging him
like that!

Man:
Shorty, that was after

they tased ( bleep )
out him like that.

My wrist, yo, my wrist.

- Man #2:
Get his badge number, yo.
- ( screams )

Man:
What car
they come out of, yo?

Him right there.
He on a bike.

I got it,
don't worry about it.

Don't worry about it.
Don't worry about it, yo.

After they tase you
like that,

you wonder why
he can't use his legs.

( distant police sirens )

The screams is what
woke me out of my sleep.

The screaming--
I was like, "Well, wow!

What's all
the screaming about?"

And then they came
to pull me up.

Like, "Dude,
they're tasing him.

They're tasing him."
Like, whoo!

I jumped up,
I threw some clothes on,

and I came out that way.

By then,
they had him all bent up.

He was face-down
on his stomach.

He was handcuffed and they had
the heels of his feet

almost to his back
and he was handcuffed
at the time.

And they had
the knee in neck,

and that
pretty much explains

the three cracked vertebrae,
the crushed larynx,

and 80% of his spinal cord
being severed and stuff.

And then I had to zoom in
to get a closer look
on his face.

You could see the pain
in the man's face, you know
what I'm saying?

And then they pulled around
on Mount Street

and they pulled him
out again.

And they put
leg shackles on him.

You put leg shackles
on a man

that can barely walk
to the paddy wagon?

That don't make sense to me,
and I never known

an on-the-beat officer
to carry leg shackles

and on his person in a van.

That's something that you do
when you going

to another compound
or when you're being

transported to the court
or something like that.

They don't put leg shackles
on you outside.

They just don't do it.
So you put leg shackles
on a man that can't walk.

You know, so you toss him
in the back of a paddy wagon

like a dead animal,
you know what I'm saying?

You don't even
put a seatbelt on him.

So basically,
he's handcuffed, shackled,
sliding back and forth

in the back
of a steel cage, basically.

'Cause it's not
padded back there.

I don't know why everybody
always seems to say,

"Oh, oh, it's--
it's pa-- it's pad"--
no, it's not padded.

It's about as padded
as the outside of that van.

It's ridiculous
how bad they hurt that man.
Let me-- come on!

A crushed larynx,
can you do that to yourself?

Three cracked vertebrae,
can you do that to yourself?

Can you sever 80%
of your own spinal cord

in the back
of a paddy wagon,

shackled and handcuffed
no less?

( stutters )
It's just-- whoo!

I just--
I wish you could see
how they had him.

I was like, "Man,
this shit is crazy, man.

Man, it's crazy!

They just
don't care anymore!"

I was like, "Man we got--
we gotta get the word out

that this is happening."

I was like,
"Man, we gotta record this

because this is the only--

this is the only weapon
that we have."

You know, the camera
is really the only thing
we have to protect ourselves

that's not illegal,
you know what I'm saying?

But in the same sense,
they could say, "Oh, well,

I mistook your camera
for a gun," you know what
I'm saying?

- That's what I'm saying.
- ( audience murmurs )

Uh...
( chuckles ) no.

Actually,
I took it with my phone.

( laughs )
And I had some brothers
from Ferguson,

they came out
and supported me. Yeah!

Matter of fact,
the brothers from Ferguson

spent the night
at my house, yeah.

And then,
they took me around
to Best Buy

and they bought me,
like, four cameras.

Yeah, basically arming me.

Yeah.
( inhales )

Yeah, it's a movement
and it's not gonna stop.

( cell phone chiming )

Eye contact.

Well, yeah,
I guess that whole...

I guess the whole
eye contact thing,
I guess that was...

( exhales )
I've lived with

the Freddie Gray story
since the beginning.

I guess that's--
what the officers wrote up

in the report, you know,
that he made eye contact
or he looked suspicious

and that
gave 'em probable cause,
but we know the truth.

Just a glance, that's...
that's all it takes
in Baltimore

for something like this
to happen.

( gulps )

Have you ever been
to a place...

where you don't feel tired...

you're just tired
of being tired?

Where you're fed up...

and there's
nothing else left

and you can't get
any lower.

Past rock bottom,
past that.

That's where I've been.
You know, so...

You gotta keep fighting.
You gotta keep climbing.

You gotta keep fighting.
You gotta keep praying.

You gotta do
all the things you know

to make yourself stronger,
'cause in the end,

you're gonna need
every bit of strength
that you can muster

to get yourself
from this hole.

It's like a bunch of crabs
pulling you back.

It's like quicksand,
and you fighting

and you fighting
and you sinking faster
and faster.

And I hated that Baltimore
is going through

such harsh times right now.

The fact that my children
may have to fight
this fight.

How am I
gonna train my children
to deal with this?

I'm not
gonna be here forever.

The leaders?
( scoffs ) Man.

Man!

The leaders are acting
pretty assholeish right now.

There's just
so much the leaders can do,
you know what I'm saying?

There's just so much
they can say.

End of the day,
they're gonna make up

their minds
what they wanna do.

They're gonna make up
their minds what
they wanna say.

We can't wait
for the leaders
to make it better.

We have to make it better.
These people are tired.

And they want answers.

And the only way
they're gonna get answers

to them is cost
the city money.

- ( overlapping yelling )
- ( loud thudding )

( overlapping yelling )

( man chanting )
No justice, no peace!

No justice, no peace!

We want all six police!

Man 2:
Justice!

Bullock:
I don't even look
the police way.

To tell you the truth,
that's-- that's not even me.

They beat me,
like, four times.

I remember four times.

Runnin' from them.

That's the only thing they can
beat me for is running
from them.

They don't like it
when you run from them.

There's a lot
of people out here

getting beat,
getting killed.

This ain't just 'cause

no Freddie Gray got killed.

People die every day.

Police, you feel me,
beating people,

harassing people every day.

Oh, they beat me
with what's it's name?

I forget what kind of stick.

Sometimes,
they use their hands.

You can't protect yourself.

With colored police
you can't say too much,

run your mouth,
then they really see you
running your mouth,

they're gonna do
something to you.

They gonna-- especially

if they ain't got no reason
to test you.

Oh, they definitely
wanna test you.

They chasing you and all that,
and they can't find nothing

on you and they're just
chasing you, oh--

( stutters )
they're gonna make it
worth their while.

They're gonna not
even put something on you,

they're gonna beat you
straight like that.

Ain't no, "Oh, I'm gonna plant
something on him," no.

They're gonna do
what they wanna do
at that time, at that moment.

Oh, it don't--
the-- at this point,

it don't even matter
if they black or white.

( stutters )
I never seen-- it ain't
no black or white situation.

I ain't trying to hear that.

'Cause I seen plenty

black police do it on black,
you feel me, to black people.

I see plenty
of white police do it.

I see 'em do it together.
This ain't no racist thing.

I don't see no racist thing
come into play.

They hate.
It's a hatred.

They hate, they hate,
you feel me?

What's the whole point
of you locking me up
or beating me up

if you can't find
nothing on me?

Why? 'Cause I made you run?
Oh, come on, now!

You trained to do this.

( siren wailing )

Hey, stuff happen every day
in Baltimore city.

♪ Pass me not ♪

♪ O gentle Savior ♪

♪ Hear my humble cry ♪

♪ While on others ♪

♪ Thou art calling ♪

♪ Do not pass me by ♪

( organ playing )

♪ Savior ♪

♪ Savior, Savior ♪

♪ Hear my ♪

♪ Humble cry ♪

The Families
United for Justice,

they drove through the night
from New York to be here.

( applause )

I want you to know
who is with us.

I'm thankful for the daughter
of Eric Garner...

- ( applause )
- ...who is here with us.

The mother of Amadou Diallo
is here with us.

The mother of Kimani Gray
is here with us.

The sister of Shantel Davis
is here with us.

The mother of Ramarley Graham
is with us.

The niece of Alberta Spruill
is here with us.

For all of them,
would you give God
a handclap of praise?

Thank you so much
for coming.

Would you find your way
to Luke, chapter 7.

Luke, chapter 7.

I want to illuminate
for your understanding

verses 11 through 15.

"Soon afterward,
Jesus went to a town
called Nain...

and his disciples
and a large crowd

went along with him.

As he approached
the town gate,

a dead boy
was being carried out...

the only son of his mother,

and she was a widow.

And a large crowd
from the town was with her.

And when the Lord saw her,
his heart went out

and he said, 'Don't cry.'"

( audience murmurs )

"Then He went up
and touched the coffin,

and those carrying it
stood still.

- He said, 'Young man,
I say to you'"...
- Woman: Yes.

- "'...get up.'"
- ( audience murmurs )

"And the dead man sat up
and begin to talk.

And Jesus gave him back
to his mother."

I'm gonna preach
for a little while

on the subject
"Breaking the box."

Audience:
Breaking the box.

Sociologists have unearthed
a newfound phenomenon

called quarter-life crisis.

And it says
that this generation of youth
in their mid-20s

begin meandering through
the painstaking task

of asking themselves,
"What am I gonna do
with my life?

Is there any hope for me?

What should I have done
differently?"

Grandmother,
I need you to know

that Freddie had to have been
going through a quarter
mid-life crisis.

'Cause at 25 years of age,
being black in Baltimore,

no opportunities
to go to Johns Hopkins.

No doors open
at the University of Maryland.

No scholarship to Morgan
and no access to Coppin.

In a place where
I have minimal opportunities,

Freddie had to have asked,
"When I can walk down
the Harbor

and see Exelon, Under Armour,

when it is that
I can look across the water
and see millions of dollars

being poured
into Camden Yards,

M&T Stadium,"

he had to have asked,
"What am I gonna do
with my life?"

He had to feel
almost as if he was boxed in.

And on April the 12th
at 8:39 in the morning,

four officers on bicycles
saw your son.

And your son, in a subtlety
of revolutionary stance,

did something that black men
are trained to, taught,

know not to do--
he looked police in the eye.

And I want to tell
this grieving mother,

you are not burying a boy.

You are burying a grown man
who knew that one

of the principles
of being a man

is looking somebody
in the eye.

At 8:40,
your son began running
from the police.

He began running.

At 8:41, according to
the timeline, he stopped.

He stopped not because
he was out of breath.

He stopped not because
he was a weakling.

He stopped not because
asthma had kicked in.

He stopped because somewhere
in the inner recesses

of his own mind,
he made up in his mind,

"I'm tired of living
in a box,"

and so he stopped running.

So as we jaywalk
in our text,

we notice that Jesus
and his disciples

are coming
to an unknown hamlet
of a town known Nain.

And Jesus is overwhelmed
by this crowd

and he stops as he's seeing
the funeral processional.

And Jesus says to this mother,
"Don't cry.

Whatever you do, don't cry."

It's a strange prescription

to give to a family in pain,
don't cry,

when the Bible declares
that weeping may endure
for a night

and joy
comes in the morning.

He says to the mother,
"Don't cry."

But I came to tell
this grandmother,

I came to tell the aunt,
I came to tell Freddie, Sr.,

I came to tell
Freddie's five sisters:
don't cry.

And the reason why
I want you not to cry

is because Freddie's death
is not in vain.

After this day,
we gonna keep on marching.

After this day, we gonna keep
demanding justice.

After this day,
we gonna keep exposing
a culture of corruption.

After this day,
we gonna keep monitoring
our own neighborhood.

- Whatever you do, don't cry.
- Woman: Don't cry. Whatever.

And I'm praying to God
that God will lay his hand

on everything that's trying
to keep black people in a box.

And I don't know
if I'm talking about
redlining of zip codes

or gentrification
or whether I'm talking about

our prison pipeline
or inadequate public schools.

Whatever box has been placed
around the life and future

- of young black babies
in this city...
- ( applause )

...I'm praying God
put your hand on the box.

He said, "Watch this,"
to this young man
in the box still.

Get up.

This is not the time
for us as a people

to be sitting on a corner,
drinking malt liquor.

This is not the time for us
to be playing the lottery

or to be
at the Horseshoe Casino.

This is not the time for us
to be walking around

with our pants
hanging down past our behind.

This is not the time
for no respect

for our history
and our legacy.

This is not
the time for tattoos
all over your neck.

He said
I need you to get up

in spite of the fact
that they spend more money

on special education
than they do on gifted
and talented programs.

Get yourself up
in spite of what they told you

that you ought to be
or what you gonna become.

Get up!
You are not Lil Wayne.

- You are not Lil Boosie.
- ( applause )

You are in the legacy
and the mantle

of Thurgood Marshall
and Clarence Mitchell, Sr.

and Parren Mitchell
and Kweisi Mfume.

Get your black self up
and change this city.

He speaks to him.

And he says to this young man,
"Get up."

And he never
opens the casket.

You miss what I just said?

He tells the young man,
"Get up,"

when he's
in a closed casket.

He is sending a message
to Black America--

Don't expect nobody
to open the door for you.

If they won't open the door,
kick that sucker down

and get what you need.

Get up.

And the young man got up.

When he was
supposed to be dead,

supposed to be over, he got up
without any prompting,

ladies and gentlemen,
and he started talking.

I don't know how
you can be black in America

and be silent with everything
we going through.

With our children
being gunned down
in the street.

Freddie. Freddie.

Just like this boy
in Luke, chapter 7,

he broke out of the box.

And again,
Luke, the gospel writer
and physician, has let me down,

because when that boy
broke out of the box,

Luke forgot to tell me
what that boy said,

getting out of the casket.

But if you allow me
to validate

my sanctified imagination,
when that black boy

broke out of the casket,
you wanna know what he said?

- ( audience responds )
- He said, "No justice!"

Audience:
No peace!

- No justice!
- No peace!

- No justice!
- No peace!

- ( music playing )
- Audience: No justice,
no peace.

- Woman: No justice.
- All: No peace!

- ♪ Do not ♪
- Woman: Why are you
fighting?

- ♪ Do not ♪
- For what?

- ( woman vocalizing )
- ( all chanting )
Freddie! Freddie! Freddie!

Man: Hands up!

Hands up!

- Man: No justice.
- All: No peace!

- Man: No justice.
- All: No peace!

- Man: No justice.
- All: No peace!

- ( police sirens )
- ( woman vocalizing )

( helicopter thrumming )

( sirens wailing )

♪ ...pass me by. ♪

( music playing )

Woman:
Did you hear about the rose

that grew from a crack
in the concrete?

Proving nature's laws wrong,

it learned how to walk
without having feet.

Funny it seems,
but by keeping its dreams

it learned
to breathe fresh air.

Long live the rose
that grew from concrete

when no one else
even cared.

No one else even cared.

( music playing )

What do I say
about Stockton?

Stockton's really
ground zero for a lot

of issues
facing America right now.

Um, my aspirations?

Oh, you're gonna laugh.
They're pretty simple.

Uh, I just want
a grocery store.

There's no grocery stores.
I had no idea.

I don't--
I don't eat really healthy.

I eat out a lot.
People wanna buy you lunch
all the time.

Then they have meetings.

I knew it was
a food desert,

'cause I studied it
in college,

but I had no idea until,

my girlfriend's vegetarian,

she's from Stanford,
and she came

to live with me
like, a week.

And she was breaking out.

She was like, "Michael,
I just want an apple.

Where can I find an apple?"

And I couldn't think
of where to get her an apple.

I was like, "I don't know
where I could get you
an apple from."

It was, like,
20 minutes away,
so that really prompted me.

Okay, so let's do something
about that.

We're doing some work around

boys and men of color
alliances,

trying to improve outcomes
for boys and men of color.

For a lot of young people
in Stockton,

it's just a prevailing sense
of nihilism.

I don't think
it's peculiar to Stockton,

but I think in any community
where you have segregation

along race and class,
you have an undercaste
of young people

who just feel forgotten,
neglected, just angry,

and don't know what
to be angry at.

But there's also
this amazing resilience.

Whenever I-- whenever I talk
to young people in Stockton,

I always quote the Tupac poem
about "The Rose That Grew
From Concrete."

When he talks about
"Long live the rose

that grew from the crack
in the concrete

when no one else cared,"
and I think that really,

really illustrates
young people,

in my opinion, in Stockton,
who are growing in cracks
of concrete,

not in soil, but in concrete--
we're not supposed to grow.

Sometimes they come out
a little bit of scars.

Sometimes they come out
a couple petals not
perfectly right.

But the fact
that they are growing
and trying to thrive

in a community
with so many problems,
to me, is inspiring.

- Hmm.
- I was on a campaign.

I was reading
to a group of first-graders.

I was reading about
Dr. Martin King, Jr.

And I got to the point
where he was assassinated,

I tried to turn through
the page really quickly

'cause I really
don't wanna talk

to 6-year-olds about death,
so I tried to turn quickly

and one little boy
raised his hand and said,
"Mr. Tubbs?

My uncle got shot."

He said it so matter-of-fact,
I thought his uncle lived.

So I said,
"Oh, I'm so sorry,

but I'm glad
he's still with us now."

- He said, "Oh, no, he died."
- Man: Hmm.

Then another little boy
raised his hand.

"Mr. Tubbs,
my cousin got shot."

Before I could turn
the page,

every student
in that classroom
knew somebody been shot

or was a victim
of violent death.

Young people aren't dumb.

They may not have
the fancy academic language,

but they understand that
something structurally
is wrong.

And that just leads
to the nihilism,

and it's particularly--
especially around
our young men.

Not for all of them,
but for the ones that--

those are
in the school-to-prison
pipeline,

those are
killing each other,
those are the dropouts,

it's just this idea of
( stutters, indistinct )...

the value of life.

Like,
my life doesn't matter.

Like, what life is this

when I'm struggling
to eat every day?

You know, like,
what life is this?

When I-- you know,
I talk to young people.

I say, "You know,
where you wanna go
to college?"

And they--

"I can't see past 18,
realistically."

I said, "No.
I want you to sit down,
write down your dreams.

What's your goal?"

"I just want
to be alive at 25."

- Mm-mm.
- It's heartbreaking.

But that's how nihilism
manifests itself.

Prison or death.

There's really
only one option
of opportunity

of boys and men
of color in Stockton--
prison or death.

( man singing
in Native American dialect )

( music playing )

Um, got to about 8th grade.

Well, um, I didn't leave,
they kicked me out.

Um, got into
too many fights.

Always my fault
from teachers.

Well, well, well.

I have to say,
since I was a kid,

I went to school,
I was always in trouble,
got kicked out.

And then,
they said I hit the teacher
in Redwood School--

Smith River,
so they kicked me out
of there.

And-- oh, I just pulled away
from her and it hurt her arm
or something.

So got kicked out
of that school.

- And then I went
to Pine Grove School.
- ( music playing )

And when I was there--
when I was there,

I was just always
settin' there,

you know,
in trouble, in the office,

so I got kicked out
of there.

And then
I went to Crescent Elk

and I got kicked out
of there.

And then I went
to the community school
by the juvenile hall.

And they didn't really
kick me out of there,
just put me in juvenile hall.

And then they tried
to put me back in high school
'cause I started doing good.

But got kicked out of there

and I went to CYA--
California Youth Authority.

And, um... I was the first one
of my friends to go to CYA.

First one to go to prison.

Oh, because they--they--
they know I'm a killer.

( guffaws )

No.

( laughing )
No.

I just had the mentality
I was gonna be the worstest
and the baddest.

I was gonna have
more drugs than everybody.

I was gonna have cars,
and so I--

you know, I just started
lowest level of prison
( stutters ) and I--

When I was 19,
I went to San Quentin.

And then I just moved
from prison to prison
to prison.

Probably my fights
got me moved around.

It's any kind
of disrespect.

Somebody even looks at you
a little bit funny,

you might have
to sock 'em up, you know?

Usually a word kicks it off--
punk, bitch, lame.

Somebody talk about
your family,

somebody talk about
your race.

Oh, a lot of people
don't like Native Americans.

Always looked down upon.

But prison don't do nothing

but make you a worser,
worser person.

Got me so I didn't even--
I didn't even care

if I hurt somebody.

You know, just, you know,

the longer you're in there,
the more you're gonna lose

your feelings about caring.

You're gonna stab somebody.

Stab them,
stab them, stab them

five or 10 times,
you don't care.

They're worthless!

Who cares about somebody
who's got 25-to-life?

I'd walk up to somebody
who had life

and sock him in the face.

I ain't care.

And, you know,
prison is just as strong

as the world out here.

The only difference is
you're in a cage.

Sure, people get stabbed,
people get hurt.

You know, it don't matter.
I got stabbed 10 times.

It don't matter,
but I did everything I could

to stay on top
of the food chain.

Yeah, you know, well,

everything I ever did
in life,

I tried to do
to the best of my ability.

And that's why
I don't get this school thing.

I mean, I'm the best.
I'm the best on the river.

I got the best smoked fish.

Started a business
at being the best.

I got the best
N.A. meetings in--

I'm the baddest of the bad.

The baddest there is.

'Cause, you know, look,
if you're gonna go in there

and, you know, whine,
scared, crybaby,

people, you know,
people are gonna take
advantage of you, you know?

Treat you bad,
but if you just go in there

and just be a monster--
just be a monster.

I don't even really like,
you know, thinking about
all that bad stuff.

Just-- just talking about it
takes me back to a bad place.

You know,
I'm in a happy place now.

You know, I got--
now that I got cleaned up,
I got everything.

I got everything!
I got a family, too.

I got a son. Shaqoon.

Call him Hog.
He wonderful, ain't he?

He's perfect.

( clapping hands )
Well, where you gonna be
at later?

Wanna bring you a fish--
some smoked salmon.

When I look in the mirror?

See a...

really good person...

that's just been down
a rough road.

And I don't know whether
if it was, you know,

my schooling
or how I grew up,

but-- put me on this road,

but I wouldn't change
this road for nothin'

'cause it's made me who I am

and got me where I'm at

and I didn't even know
I was on a rough road.

You know,
just thought life's hard.

- You know what I mean?
- ( airhorn blares )

Taos.

Yeah,
he's in our tribe.

Well, part of it is,
he's very big

and, you know,
he probably acted out
in school

and did things
he shouldn't have

and nobody said,
"Taos, what's wrong?

Why are you doing this?"

You know, I mean, now that
he's back with us,

does wrong by me,
I sit him down.

I say, "Taos,
why are you doing this?

We're gonna have
to figure this out because
you're gonna get in trouble.

And if you go away,
who's gonna... tend
to your family's graves?

Who's gonna raise your son?"
( clears throat )

You-- you cannot deal
with children

if you don't have a sense
of kindness and respect

and if you don't like 'em.

And if you don't have systems
that like them,

support them,
and stay with them.

I get mad at you,
so I throw you out of school?

What is that? No!

If I get mad at you,
then we need to come closer.

You don't need
to be further.

You did something wrong,
then you need to be closer.

You don't need
to be further.

If I think
I have something to offer,
then we need to come close.

We don't need
to be further.

- School-to-prison pipeline,
um...
- ( music playing )

...well, our kids
aren't finishing school,

they can't get jobs,
they try to make do,
they go to prison.

That's what it is.
( clears throat )

Part of it is discipline.

We don't have
very good relationships
with those people.

Non-Indians.

Educators.

The white people.

Um, you know,
they see our tribal kids
as having behavioral problems

and then they get...
suspended from school

and then they get arrested
from school.

We had
an 8-year-old in Klamath

they were about
to put cuffs on.

I mean, you cannot cuff
an 8-year-old.

You just can't, it's stupid.

If you have children
who are suffering

to the extent
that they act out in school

and do things
that they should not do,

which could include
hitting a teacher,

hitting another child,
having some kind of a fit.

And then they get
arrested at school

( stutters )
or they get suspended
or they get expelled

from school
and they get mad at somebody

and they hit
a school resource officer.

And then they get handcuffed,
then they go to jail

or juvenile hall
or probation.

And it just gets going
and it keeps on going
from there.

And nobody says,
"Why is this kid doing this?"
You know?

"What's wrong?"
Kids need grownups.

It's the whole point
of having kids and grownups.

If you don't have a couple
of good grownups at your side

or ones who
could work the system,

you can't-you can't make--

you could go down,
you can't make it,

you just can't,
and a lot of them
will go, "But for..."

and, "I would be in a prison,"
and a lot of that

has to do with somebody,

a teacher, somebody,
who just reached out and said,

"You know, you can do this.
It's gonna be okay.

You're gonna be okay,
but you gotta stop
acting like this.

You can't-- you can't run
from the cops.

If you run from the cops,
the cops will chase you."

Man!

I mean, you know.
( scoffs )

Did you see that...

video of that
14-year-old girl in Texas?

( distant chatter )

Man:
Y'all keep standing there
running your mouths,

you're gonna go too.

Get out of here.
I already told you.

( overlapping yelling )

- Hey! Hey! Hey!
- ( overlapping yelling )

( shouting continues )

- Your ass on the ground
like I said!
- Call my mama!

Call my mama, oh, my God!

Get down.
On your face!

( yelling )
Get off of me!

Girl:
What is he doing?
What is he--?

What the fuck is he doing?

( girl crying )

- Man #2: Let's go.
- Adrian, you good, bro?

Adrian?

I'm gonna tell you
one more time.

Get your ass out of here!

Y'all get
across the street!

( music playing )

She's screaming
for her mommy.

"Mama, Mama,
I want my mama."

She's in a bathing suit.

What kind of a threat
is that?

I mean, who does that
to a 14-year-old?

- I think that--
I think we-- judges...
- ( woman murmurs )

...fell asleep at the job.

I mean, I think--
I think the problem is that

nobody learned that justice
is what the law is about.

I mean,
yes, you need rules.

Every society needs rules,
of course, you know,

but the whole point of having
a law or having a process

or having a court
is to ensure fairness

and right behavior
and justice.

It's not about that anymore.

Um, it's about money

and who has the power, too.

I think
the country's broken.

Tony Eady:
I'm a Student
Concern Specialist

here at North Charleston
High School,

Charleston, South Carolina.

And I used to work
in a-- in a maximum
security penitentiary.

And I get a group of men
in there and I say,

"You know, this is just
a rehearsal.

This is"-- I say,
"When you always

coming to ISS,
that means you can't deal

with the public,
with society here at school."

I say, "They always
send you here."

I say, "That's a rehearsal."

You know, I say
if you can't deal
with authority figures

and people telling you
what to do,

when you get out in society,
they're gonna send you
to jail.

I call it a school jail.
"I'm not in no school jail."

Yes, you are.
You're incarcerated
for this hour.

You can't leave.

And I'm a very strong figure

in my house because
of what I see going on here.

My son, 15 years old,
growing up in a house--
me and my wife,

both educators,
and I know I have to keep

a foot or a thumb
on his neck.

'Cause he tends
to kind of drift, you know.

I say something to him.
"What? What you want?"

"Who you talking at?"

And I know if I don't say that
every single time,

it's gonna go way left
till where

until he's telling me
what to do.

And what people
don't understand

who doesn't work
in this environment,

most teenagers
are very, very defiant.

Very, very, very defiant.

And then people go,
you know, society says

you can't touch them,
you can't grab them.

The kids know that, so it
just gets more power
added to them.

And then they don't want
to have the police officer
in the school.

I need the police officer.
I need the police officer
for me.

Police officer
our last line of defense.

I need the police officer.

I'm not saying
I think the police officer,

you know,
grab kids and snatch kids

and drag them
across the floor,

but I need somebody to show

these kids there is authority
in this school.

And what I heard
a police officer,

one of my good friends, say,
you know, most people--

most people
get incarcerated...

'cause of their mouth.

What they say

when they're approached by
authority figures.

"Get out the car."
"What you mean I got
to get out the car?"

Then they do
get out the car.

"What's up, man?
Why you stopping me?"

And then they call for backup
and more coming,
so I don't know.

( laughing )
But sometimes I ask God
why am I still here?

You know, I--
it must be because I'm needed.

But a constant fight
every day trying to get

these kids
to do the right thing.

And it wears on me,
the disrespect.

And I have stood between
these kids and Mr. Grimm,

the principal,
when he's talked to them.

You know, and I can see where
it's going the wrong way
and I have to intercept.

( stutters )
I'll tell you.

Kid got put out
of class for a cell phone.

Oh, that's another thing.

These kids rather go to jail
than give up their cell phone.

And I'm standing out
in the hall with the kid.

Mr. Grimm walks up
because he hears the call.
"What's the problem?"

I said, "Well, Mr. Grimm,
uh, he refused to give
his cell phone up,

but I have it now."

And the kid, he say,
"Yeah, you may have it now,

but I'm getting
my phone back!"

Mr. Grimm say, "Excuse me?"

Kid say,
"You heard what I said."

And now,
I have to intercept

'cause now you challenging
the authority figure.

The bigger
top authority figure.

Well, I know
where it's going,

'cause Mr. Grimm
is not gonna let him

talk to him like that.

And Mr. Grimm will probably

respond with something like,

"Oh, well, I'm gonna--

I'm gonna get your phone

and I'm gonna keep
your phone."

And then the kid
will probably go, "No!"

Probably reach for the phone,
step for the phone.

( grunts )
Try to get it.

And it's going from
you're just giving up

your phone,
getting it back next period.

Now you're not
getting your phone,
getting arrested,

being suspended,
maybe up for expulsion...

all because of your mouth.

Man:
Hands behind your back.
Give me your hands.

Amanda Ripley:
Niya Kenny.

She's the oldest girl
in the class.

So she's sitting there
in her Algebra I class

that she failed
as a freshman--
need to pass to graduate.

She's doing well
in that class, actually.

So 18-year-old
African-American girl,

she got an "A" average.

And she sees the teacher,
Mr. Long,

who's a veteran math teacher
at the school-- white man--

whispers something to one
of the other kids
in the class-- a girl.

Who doesn't-- she doesn't--
Niya doesn't know her name.

She doesn't talk much.
She's new to the class,
this girl.

Shakara, as it turns out.

And Niya sees Mr. Long
go back to his desk

and pick up the phone
and call someone

to escort someone out
of the classroom.

And so, she turns to Shakara
and says, "You?

( whispers )
Is that for you?"

Like, she mouths
and Shakara nods.

And Niya thinks,
"Well, that's strange."

Because she didn't--
I guess-- apparently,

Shakara had
taken out her phone.

Sometimes at that school,

if you take out your phone,

they take it for the day.

It's pretty routine policy.

So for whatever reason

that we still don't know,

Shakara got in trouble
with this teacher

and he called
the assistant principal,
Mr. Webb,

who came, and according to Niya
he said,

"Come with me,"
or something to that effect,
and Shakara declined to come.

And then, according to Niya,

he said something
to the effect of

"I ain't got time to play
with y'all today,"

and he turned around
and he left.

Black man.

And he came back
with Deputy Fields,
who's sort of large,

hulking white police officer
who's also a football coach
at the school.

And Niya said
when she saw him,

she turned to the boy
sitting next to her

and said,
"Take out your phone,"
and she took out

her phone too
because she had a feeling.

She heard stories
about this guy.

She had a feeling he might
do something...

worthy
of being videotaped.

( clears throat )
And you saw the video.

He told Shakara
to come with him.

She wouldn't come
and so he tried to extract her

from the chair
rather violently.

And then eventually,
he did extract her
from the chair.

And Niya
is videotaping this,

and she's becoming
more and more distraught.

"Oh, well,
they was wrestling,

um, on the floor
for, like, a minute.

That's what I thought, too.
She must be strong.

'Cause, you know,
we talking about
a 9th-grader

and he's
a 300-pound bodybuilder.

But I was, like, you know,
I was like, 'Is-- is nobody
gonna help her?

Somebody record this!
Put it on Snapchat!'

And then I'm asking
Mr. Webb and Mr. Long,

I'm like,
'Look-- what-- it--

And then I turned to Mr. Long
and I was just like,

'Look, you did this.
Like, what are you
going to do?'

I said, 'You didn't even have
to call the administrator.'

And I was just like"--
( deep breath )

And then she said,
"What the fuck?"

What the fuck?
And the assistant principal's
like, "Niya, Niya."

He's trying to calm her down.
She won't be calmed down.

And then, we don't know
exactly what happened next,

but according to Niya,
Deputy Fields turned to her

and said,
"You got so much to say?

'Cause you're coming next."

And so then he comes back--

he takes Shakara
out of the room

and he comes back
and now Niya

has become
completely passive

because she knows
he's not joking.

And she stands up
and she puts her hands

behind her back
and he handcuffs her.

And he takes her to the room
where Shakara is,

and according to Niya,
Shakara is leaning forward,

she's still handcuffed,
and her braids

are falling in her face.

And then, according to Niya,
Deputy Fields flips the braids

out of Shakara's face
and he says,

"Did you take
your meds today?"

( audience murmurs )

And she says...
it's the first thing

she says--
she finally speaks.

She says, "Yes, did you?"

( audience laughs )

Which I thought was great.

It's great,
just great teenage response.

Perfect. So, um, Shakara
is apparently released

to the care of a guardian.

She's a foster child.
Not sure which guardian.

But Niya Kenny is 18,
so she's considered an adult

and they take her
to a detention facility--
an adult jail.

I'm just, like, you know,
I'm embarrassing my mom.

She's gonna be mad.
She's gonna kill me.

That's the only person
I would think about--
Mom, Mom, Mom.

I was like, "Oh, God,
I'm gonna get out
of this jail.

She gonna beat me up
right in the yard."

Oh, the people in the jail,
they was, um...

they was like
normal people to me.

They was nice.

But, um, the video
came on the news,

and everybody-- everybody
in the jail was like, "What?"

Everybody.
Everybody was like, "What?

He threw that little girl
like that?

What? He threw
that little girl like that
and you was in there?

Oh, girl, you going home.
You going home."

Soon as I saw that video,
I was like-- ( gasps )

"I know my mom saw it.
I know she saw it."

Soon as I saw that video,
I was like, "Whew, I'm not

in trouble anymore,
I'm not in trouble."

And so I call my mom
and my mom was like,
"Niya, you don't even know.

The news is out here.
They want to interview you.

'Good Morning America'

is coming
to the house tonight."

But I don't know
what it is, you know,

I guess I just snap when
I see people being mistreated,
I guess.

I mean, I'm talking about
elementary school.

I remember one time
in 3rd grade,

a friend of mine
was being bad in class

and a teacher--
( whispers ) she was
a white lady--

because I knew about racism

because my dad
had always taught his kids,

like, ever since
we were in kindergarten

about racism-- like,
know your history.

And she picked up this boy
by his cheek out the chair.

And I lost it.
I lost it-- I lost it
in the classroom.

I was like,
"You are not his mom!
You can't touch him like that!

That is not your job.
Your job is to teach us.

You do not pick up a student
by his cheek out the chair!"

Yeah, I was really mad.
I was really mad.

And, you know, she wrote me up
for being disrespectful,

for being belligerent,
and that was my first
after-school detention.

But I knew when
the high school called my mom,

that they was gonna be like,
"Niya got in something

that didn't involve her."

That's exactly
what they did.

And I knew that my mom--
I knew her mindset would be,

"Oh, Niya,
why didn't you be quiet?"

'Cause that's the response
I got in 3rd grade.

"Mind your business.

This doesn't have nothing
to do with you."

But he just
threw a whole girl...
across the classroom.

How could you mind
your business?

That's something you need
to make your business.

( music playing )

But it's, I think,

how you raise your kids.

What they see
around the family.

And I never heard
too much about drugs
at that time.

It was all about
wearing baggy pants
and you start being in gangs.

That's what I was worried.

Oh, I don't see nothing
in those pants.

All I see is butts
all the time.

- You could see the underwear!
- ( chuckles )

I don't have
the slighty idea

why the kids do it.

You know, I don't think
my kids never did that.

And I don't think
I would let it--

I don't think
I would let them.

No, I would rip
every single pant.

Knowing myself,
I would do it.

But one of the parents told me
that my kids

were coming to their home
and change to baggy pants.

- Mmm.
- And I became
very good friends

with those parents
and we all used
to communicate.

I think that's the key.

One of the mothers
are the one

who told me that my kids
were wearing baggy pants.

And that's when
I went to school.

I say-- I say,
"What are you doing
to those pants?"

Or I say, "How are you doing
to those pants?"

They say, "Oh, Mom,
they are my friends.

Come on,
don't make me embarrassed
here at school."

I say, "Okay.

We're gonna talk
when we get home."

We talking, I say, "Okay.
I'm gonna meet you halfway.

- Not that baggy,
a little bit loose."
- ( laughs )

"But I don't want you
to be going to nobody's house
and change."

- Mm-mm.
- And I think I was
a very strict mother.

Anything involving my kids,
I was very involved.

I used to even go

at nighttime and smell them.

Yes, oh, yes, yes,

to see if they were not
drinking or smoking.

Oh, yes,
I did so many things

to keep my kids
out of trouble,

and thanks to the Lord,
I think I did a good job.

- Mmm.
- But I had to move
from Vallejo.

I said
I had to move from here.

I didn't want none
of my kids to go to jail.

You see so many things
on the news.

I didn't want that
for my kids.

Not for my family.
Who wants that? Nobody.

- ♪ Oh, I want my mama ♪
- ( music playing )

♪ Gotta keep climbin', yeah ♪

- ( cell door shuts )
- ♪ Gotta keep praying... ♪

Well, um...
this experience...

of being, uh,
in college here,

uh, at the Maryland
Correctional Institute

has showed me
that I missed out on a lot.

A lot of information

that could've helped me
make better decisions.

I tended to gravitate
towards my environment

versus reaching out
past the environment.

And I started believing that
that was it and that was all.

Um, and that the only thing
required of me

was for me,
which was basically

to feed myself
and the baby I was carrying

and that everything was me.

It was never, like,
the next door neighbor

could've been going through
the same thing.

I didn't have
enough information to know

that we are all
really connected somehow

to every living,
breathing thing,

we're all really connected.

I've learned how
the government work.

Uh, I didn't get that,
you know, like,

what was the governor for
or what was the mayor for.

Uh, I don't get it.
I don't understand.

I understand that
they are important people,

but to what degree
of importance?

What are they
actually there for?

And to get that now,
as a grown woman? Whoa!

And finding out
what this world
is really all about,

how it revolves,

and what is expected
of me as a citizen.

Basically, to, um...

( sucks teeth )

pave the way
for those coming behind us.

Um, to make better
living arrangements

for everybody as a whole.

'Cause in the end,
it's about living

and it's about
living properly

and it's about rearing
your children properly,

so that
they can be productive

and not be barbaric,
basically.

Um, I had six children;

now I have five.

One of them died
since I've been here.

The oldest being 34,
the youngest being 21.

I had my youngest child
when I was in a Baltimore
detention center.

I been here 23 years.

Well, um... my boyfriend--

my former boyfriend,
'cause we wasn't together
at the time--

shot and killed a guy
who tried to rape me.

Well, they didn't
consider it accomplice.

I got
the same charge as he did--
first-degree murder.

I think it's fair.

You talking about
somebody's life,
um-- ( coughs )

Whether--
( clears throat )

Whether it's in--
in your control or not,

somebody's life
has been taken,

so I do think it's fair.

Uh, but I think that if I had
had a better education,

I would've been more upright,
so to speak.

Um, you know, because
without that education,
I always felt less than.

And I think if I had
had that education,

I would've known that, um...
I am somebody.

I am a good person.

Um, but now I have a purpose
now that

I'm raising dogs here
at this institution

and, um, training them
to go and help people
who have disabilities.

It's my way
of expressing love
to people who need--

who really need
somebody or something,

because, um, you know,
it's a lot of people

who are alone or whatever,
and I get a chance

to express that love
through the dogs that I train.

Yes, I will.

I-- yes,
I'm gonna go that far.

Yes, I will.
( laughing ) I will.

Um, dogs have more empathy
than people.

( laughing )
Because, I mean,

you know, I'm not saying
that people are just,

you know, gonna ignore you
or totally, like, don't care,

but they not gonna reach out
and, you know, give you a hug.

"Oh, you be a'ight."

But the dog is so different.

She'll jump on me,
roll around on the floor.

You know, lick me,
try to get me to play with her

and then
I'd be like, "Okay."

You know,
get myself together

and try to think about how
I'm gonna move through this.

They're being taught,
and it's constant,
all day, every day.

It's teaching them
and praising them

and letting them know
they're doing the right thing

and... we get
really good results.

Out of 100 dogs,
89 are gonna make it.

- ( school bell rings )
- ( music playing )

( kids chattering )

It was...

Huey Elementary School,

and it-- it was...

( groans ) ohh...
it was rough.

I never knew
how bad a situation could be

until I worked
with that population.

You have 10 of the most
needy children

who need food, clothes,

love, shelter,
like, an education.

They just need so much,
and you're just one person.

And ( stutters ) it--
I felt hopeless.

I felt hopeless
in the situation.

I felt like I had
a whole bunch of starving,
hungry people

and I had nothing in my hands
to give them,

even though I tried
to give them so much.

But they had seen so much
of life, so much rough stuff,

that they were like,
"What's school?"

You know what I mean?
I got 7th graders
smoking weed.

"What's school?"

I got 7th graders
out all hours of the night.

How am I gonna keep
them in the classroom,
incentivizing them?

And I spent so much time
with my heart racing

because there were
so many fights

that would just
spontaneously start to fight.

"Bitch, what the fuck
you looking at?

Bitch, I'll fuck you up!"
No one said it to me,

they said it
to each other, but there goes
my heart racing.

And I don't wanna-- I ran--
I ran that classroom.

I ran a tight ship.

There was never--
I broke everything up.

And it got to the point
the people would be like--

like, a new kid would come in
and they be like,

"Don't mess with Ms. Williams,
she'll tear you up.

Don't fuck with her.
You better leave her alone."

Whatever.

But it's hard to be that strong
day in and day out.

It really is.

It was like being...

it was like being in jail
without a gun.

It was like...
me running a jail
without a gun.

That's what it was like.
Running a jail without a gun.

Everybody for themselves,

but I want you
to maintain order.

No guns, no handcuffs,
no billy clubs,

I can't throw you
in the closet,

I can't do any of that.

I gotta keep you in order
just by me being me.

I had this one student
who was, um, uh,

( sighs )
he was a foster child.

And his parents
were addicted to drugs

and he got very sick
as a baby,

so they took him
to the hospital

and they found out
he was being molested,

so they immediately put him
in another foster home.

I think his father
was molesting him.

So he showed symptoms
of being molested

and being addicted to drugs
as a baby.

And he would have these fits
of-- I mean, complete rage.

Docile any other time.

I'm talking about zero
to a million in a second.

I have never seen
an 11-year-old pull a tree
out of the ground.

Out the ground.
So angry he could actually
pull a tree out of the ground.

So angry
he could take a whole table
and turn it over.

How I met him?
I met him, um--
it was my first week at Huey.

And I hear
somebody screaming,

like this
bloodcurdling scream.

And I see somebody running
through the halls.

It's kind of like
a slow running kind of run
like this.

And he's just, like,
pouring sweat,

just, like,
pouring down his body,

and he's ripping things
off of the wall and just--

( screams )

And he's just throwing stuff
and throwing stuff

and throwing stuff
and throwing stuff.

And I just
followed him and followed him
and followed him

and we ended up down
on the first floor.

And I did not know what to do,
I did not know what to do

because I've never seen
anybody doing anything
like this.

I did not know what to do,
so all I did was,

I just grab him
in the tightest hug

and I just hold him
and hold him

and hold because
I had him in, like, a hold,

but it was a hug
and-- because I'm really,
really strong--

and I just hold him
and hold him and hold him
till his whole body just--

collapsed...
and he just started crying

and crying and crying
and crying on me.

And that was
my third day at Huey.

( music playing )

I became interested
in brain development

and in the effect of stress

on the development
of the brain.

And I am getting notes
from teachers

saying, "This kid has ADHD.

Please place on Ritalin."

And I'm like, "Wow!

( chuckling )
The diagnosis has been made,

there is a treatment plan.

Am I needed for anything?"

And in fact,
when some of these children

had an in-depth
clinical evaluation,

they did not have
Attention Deficit
Hyperactivity Disorder,

but they had a long history
of adversity

and a long history of,
not only of stress,
but of traumatic stress.

It's a type of stress
that really impacts--

( stutters )
it impairs your function--

it impairs
your function socially,

it impairs
your function academically,
and it impairs how you feel.

You feel distressed,
and this is how these children
were feeling.

Historical trauma exists,
and not only in history.

It exists in our daily life.

I think
as a society we sometimes
experience symptoms

of Post-Traumatic
Stress Disorder,

specifically avoidance,
which is a very bad symptom.

You know, avoidance--
not wanting to talk about it,

not thinking about it,
not addressing it.

And what happens
when that avoidance is there,

the impact
of the trauma permeates,
it continues.

I see many children
who do not have

the trauma experience
in their lives,

but they learn it
as a response from caretakers.

They model it.

And some individuals think

that also
it is passed epigenetically,

and that what happens
is there are some changes
in the coding of your DNA

where you actually
alter your DNA,

and then what you are passing
is altered DNA.

Slavery.

Um... the social factors

that are surround the issue
of slavery--

the history of slavery
are... enough.

( chuckles )
They don't need
any DNA change

because of the way in which
they have resulted

in many communities
of African-Americans

living in a state
of poverty

where it's very hard
for them to escape from.

It's a way of maintaining
that enslavement.

And of course,
poverty is not only in--
with African-Americans.

It exists
in all communities,

but I think that
in many communities
that are African-American

have gone through
a history of slavery

to another form of slavery,
you know?

Through poverty.

Trauma? Shit.

Anybody-- Anybody can--

Anything that a freakin'--

They say they went to school
for all that shit

and all that bullshit?

Naw. Hell, naw.

You can fake their asses,
like, a lot.

I seen a motherfucker
fake trauma to the max.

Hell, yeah.

He was acting like
he was traumatized

by what he did,

and they had to comfort him
like he was a little baby.

He confuse 'em.
Hell, yeah!

You could trick a therapist

into giving you meds,
and they would do it.

He really would fall for it.
You could trick therapists.

They're supposed to know
when you're telling a lie.

They wouldn't even know.

I tricked them.
I told them I couldn't sleep.

They gave me sleeping meds.

Historical trauma,
that's bullshit.

That's bullshit.

Hell, no.
I'm Salvadorian.

They done mess
half my people up.

And the blacks
who are incarcerated?

They don't--
they don't, man--

most of blacks
who are incarcerated
don't even care about slavery.

They be like,
"It wasn't my time.

I wasn't there.
What I care about it?"

No, hell no.

You wanna change people,
you gotta do it internally.

You wanna change,
you gotta do it by yourself.

Just like I'm doing.

I got out.
I got a job.

Got my substance abu--

Oh, yeah,
I'm-- I'm a dishwasher.

Disney Hall, Downtown L.A.

( scoffs ) Trauma.
Motherfuckers act like that
to a max.

Yeah, some cases, it's true.

Like the sexos.

Sex offenders?

Understand about
the sexos-- they have a--

they repeat what they did--
what happened to them,

so I understand
about the sexos.

Oh, a sexo put a baby

in a microwave
and let it pop.

Let that motherfucker pop.

That's some fucked up shit.

Not even the hardest vatos
that I know

will do some shit like that.

Not even the hardest
gang members I know

would do some shit like that.

Even we look at you
like you retarded.

Why the fuck
would you kill a baby?

We frown upon that shit.

We don't fucking
do that baby.

We don't fuck
an innocent baby.

We don't like
doing that shit.

But it happens.

I'll smoke
that motherfucker.

I would kill
that motherfucker.

Hell, yeah, I believe
in capital punishment,

especially for sexos
and murderers.

Fuck it.

You got caught for it,
oh, well, you dead.

Shit, you're dumb enough
to get caught for it,
it's your bad.

( music playing )

If I may interrupt you
for a moment.

Luckily, I'm not 15.

But if I were,
how in the world

would I find any respect
for human life

or any sense of history?

And history is a concept

that exists
in almost nobody's mind.

Go on, go on.

( music playing )

According to the West,
I have no history.

I've had to wrest my identity
out of the jaws of the West.

What I'm trying to say is
that if I were young,

- I find myself
with no models.
- ( ice crunching )

And that's
a very crucial situation.

Because what
we've done.

The world we created.

If I were 15,
I'd feel hopeless, too.

So you see, what
we gotta try to do,
what we gotta try to face...

I read a little book...

called "The Way
It Spozed to Be."

And it was poetry
and things

written by...
little black children,

Mexican,
Puerto Rican children.

Land of the free,
home of the brave.

And the teacher
had made a compilation

of all the poems
these kids wrote.

And he respected them
and he dealt with them

as if they were--
as, in fact,

all children are, as in fact,
all human beings are--

some kind of a miracle.

And so something
wonderful happened.

And so for me,
that very tiny book--
it's only 30 pages long...

one boy wrote a poem--

16 years old,
who's in prison--

it ended, four lines
I never will forget.

"Walk on water.
Walk on a leaf.

Hardest of all
is walk in grief."

So, what I'm trying to get at,

I hope, is that there is

a tremendous national,

global, moral waste.

And the question is
how can it be arrested?

It's an enormous question.

Look, you and I,
we've become whatever
we become.

The curtain
will come down eventually.

But what should we do
about the children?

We are responsible,

insofar as we're responsible
for anything at all,

we are responsible

for the future of this world.

- ( multiple gunshots )
- ( music playing )

( sirens wail )

Barack Obama:
I spoke with
and Vice President Biden

spoke with Mayor Joe Riley
and other leaders

of Charleston
to express our deep sorrow

over the senseless murders
that took place last night.

( cameras clicking )

Michelle and I know
several members

of Emanuel AME Church.

We knew their pastor,
Reverend Clementa Pinckney,

who along with eight others
gathered in prayer

and fellowship
and was murdered last night.

Obama:
Mother Emanuel is in fact
more than a church.

This is a place of worship
that was founded by

African-Americans
seeking liberty.

This is a church
that was burned to the ground

because its worshippers
worked to end slavery.

When there were laws banning
all-black church gatherings,

they conducted services
in secret.

Judge:
Mr. Roof, you're charged
with nine counts of murder

and one count of possession
of a weapon

during the commission
of a violent crime.

Is there a representative
of any of the family

that would be here
that wished

to make a statement
before this court?

Woman:
I forgive you.

Woman #2:
And I forgive you.

Man:
I forgive you
and my family forgives you.

Woman #3:
We are the family
that love built.

We have no room for hating,
so we have to forgive.

( woman vocalizing )

Obama:
For too long,
we were blind to the pain

that the Confederate flag
stirred in too many
of our citizens.

( applause )

Obama:
By taking down that flag,
we express God's grace.

( all chanting )
Take it down! Take it down!

Take it down!
Take it down! Take it down!

That was really
the snapping point for me.

And it was, like, you know,
how can we possibly
get this flag down?

Now, in 2000,
somebody put a ladder
up against the pole,

climbed to the top,
set it on fire,

and South Carolina
built a four-foot fence
around it.

So it wasn't going
to be easy.

You basically had
the coming together
of two activist groups.

There was
Black Lives Matter--
The Tribe--

who were mostly
black activists,

and then you had
these environmentalists--

Occupy activists
who were mostly white.

And it took a lot of trust.

I mean, here I walked
into this room

and half of the people
in this room

I've never seen before
in my life,

and we're talking about
going down

and taking down
the Confederate flag.

I mean,
I really felt

on my heart that...
I was supposed to do this.

That God had called me
to do this,

but I didn't want it
to be some whim.

I mean, it's not
a whim thing to do.

You know, I didn't have
any experience climbing.

And I had been
arrested before,

but there was never
any, you know, fear
of any danger, you know?

I mean, and now,
we're talking about
a situation where

I could be potentially
putting my life at risk.

- ( horn honks )
- Man: Get off the pole.

Ma'am! Get down now.

Newsome:
Um, you know, a vigilante

coming by with a gun
while I was on the pole.

I mean, well, obviously,
I mean, there was nothing

I would be able to do
because I would be

very vulnerable
on the pole.

I know, sir, I'm prepared.

Newsome:
But we decided

that everybody else
should scatter.

( man chatters )

You know, I think
that's like a place

where the cause and the idea
are bigger than the person

because I felt like
even if I didn't make it
down the pole,

the statement
would still be made.

And that
was really the point

that we were trying
to get across.

That this is--
this is how serious this is.

Uh, yeah, I thought about
Martin Luther King.

I mean, I--
I thought about Malcolm X.

But then I just had
to focus on learning
to climb the pole.

You know, I--
I had a day and a half.

- Woman: Take your time,
Bree.
- Man: Get down now.

Newsome:
A Greenpeace activist
came down from New York

and we practiced
on Jimmy's-- James Tyson
is a white man

that got arrested with me--
and we practiced

on a lamppost
on Jimmy's farm.

Man:
It is not worth it.

There was
this police supervisor

in the street
and he came over.

And he directed
two of the officers

at the bottom of the pole
to tase me,

and I would've been
electrocuted because
I was on the pole.

And that's when
James grabbed the pole

and he said, you know,
"If you electrocute her,

you'll have
to electrocute me, too."

And I think that's
when people, you know, saw.

They stepped back
and they saw that people

had smartphones and cameras,
and they backed off.

You come against me
with hatred and oppression
and violence.

I come against you
in the name of God!

This flag comes down today!

Man: Get off the pole!
It is not worth it.

( bassist playing
"Amazing Grace" )

Get off the pole.

"The Lord is my light
and my salvation.

Whom shall I fear?

The Lord is the stronghold
of my life.

Of whom shall I be afraid?"

( playing "Amazing Grace" )

( scattered cheering
and applause )

"The Lord is my shepherd.
I shall not want."

Newsome:
It is our duty to win!

Supporters:
It is our duty to win!

Newsome:
We must love and protect
each other.

Supporters:
We must love and protect
each other.

Newsome:
We have nothing to lose
but our chains.

Supporters:
Nothing to lose
but our chains.

( bassist continues
"Amazing Grace" )

( concludes
"Amazing Grace" )

On our way
on this, um, trip...

that we've been taking...
for the past 13 years.

Members of Congress.

I been going back
every year since 1965.

Back to Selma to commemorate

the anniversary
of Bloody Sunday

that took place
on March 7, 1965.

But we usually stop
in Birmingham for a day

and then we go to Montgomery
for a day.

And then we go to Selma.

But on this trip
to Montgomery,

we stopped
at First Baptist Church.

It's a church
that was pastored by
Reverend Ralph Abernathy.

It's the same church
where I met

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
and Reverend Abernathy

in the spring of 1958.

Mmm.

Young police officer--
the chief--

came to the church
and he gave

a very moving speech
to the audience.

The church was full.

Black, white, Latino,

Asian-Americans,
members of Congress,

staffers, family members,
children, and grandchildren.

And he said, "What happened
in Montgomery 52 years ago

during the Freedom Ride

when you arrived,
was not right."

( audience murmurs )

He said,
"The police department
didn't show up.

They allowed the angry mob
to come and beat you."

And he said, "Congressman...

I'm sorry
for what happened.

I want to apologize.

This is not the Montgomery
that we want Montgomery to be.

This is not
the police department
I want to be the chief of."

Hmm.

He said,
"I want you to forgive us."

He said,
"To show the respect

that I have for you
and for the movement,

I want to take off my badge

and give it to you."

The church was so quiet,
no one said a word.

And I stood up
to accept the badge
and I started crying.

And everybody in the church
started crying.

There was not a dry eye
in the church.

I said, "Officer-- Chief...

I cannot accept your badge."

"I am not worthy
to accept your badge.

Don't you need it?"

( man laughs )

He said, "Congressman,
I can get another one.

- I want you
to have my badge!"
- ( laughs )

- And I took it.
- Mm-hmm.

( stutters )
I'm never ever
gonna forget it.

- Mm-mm.
- I'mma hold
onto to it forever.

But he hugged me
and I hugged him.

I cried some more.

You had Democrats
and Republicans

in a church crying.

It was the first time
that any police chief

in any city where I visited

or where I was arrested
in the sixties ever apologized.

Or where I was beaten.

- It was a moment of grace.
- Mm-hmm.

He hugged me.
He held me.

And it-it-it felt
so freeing

and at the same time--
so liberating,

and at the same time,
I felt like,

"You know, I'm not worthy.
I mean, I'm just one.

I'm just one.
I'm just one of the people.

'Cause many people
were beaten."

Mm-hmm.

It's, uh,
it's "Amazing Grace."

Hmm.

- ( chuckles )
- Y'all know that song?

- Audience: Yes.
- Y'all know it?

- Oh, yes.
- Uh-huh.

Y'all know that line
in there?

- Man: Mm-hmm.
- Help me with it.
"Save a wretch like me."

All:
♪ Save a wretch ♪

♪ Like me ♪

Sing it, sing it, y'all.
Sing it good.

All:
♪ I once was lost ♪

♪ But now I'm found ♪

Give it your heart.

♪ Was blind, but now ♪

♪ I see. ♪

That's right.
That's right.

"Save a wretch like me."

A sinner sins.
We're all falling short.

- Mmm.
- We all just trying
to make it.

We all searchin'!

Like Dr. King said:
We out to redeem the soul
of America,

we first
have to redeem ourselves.

- Man: Amen.
- But this message--

this act of grace
of the badge says to me...

"Hold on.
Never give up.

Never give in.
Never lose faith.

Keep the faith."

Only time something
like this happened before

was a member
of the Klan,

Rock Hill, South Carolina,

who beat me and my seatmate
on May 9, 1961.

He came in the office.

His son had been
encouraging his father

to seek out the people
he had wronged.

And he came in the office,
February '09.

( murmurs )

( stutters )
"Mr. Lewis.

I'm one of the people

who beat you...

on May 9, 1961.

( sniffles )

I want to apologize.

Will you forgive me?"

I said, "I forgive you.

Accept your apology."

And he hugged me.
And his son hugged me.

He started crying.
His son started crying.

I seen that guy
four different times
since that time.

He called me brother.

I call him brother.

( music playing )

Woman:
Did you hear?

Did you hear about the rose
that grew

from a crack in the concrete?

Provin' nature's law's wrong,

it learned how to walk
without having feet.

Funny it seems,
but by keeping its dreams

it learned
to breathe fresh air.

Long live the rose
that grew from concrete

when no one else
even cared.

( music playing,
male singers vocalizing )

( female singer vocalizes )

( music continues )

Woman:
♪ Gotta keep climbing ♪

♪ Gotta keep prayin' ♪

♪ Got to keep climbin'
and climbin' ♪

♪ Oh, gotta keep fightin' ♪

♪ You know what I'm sayin',
what I'm sayin' ♪

♪ What I'm sayin',
what I'm sayin' ♪

- ♪ Whoo ♪
- ♪ You know what I'm sayin' ♪

♪ Gotta keep climbin' ♪

♪ Keep on prayin', yeah ♪

♪ Ooh ooh ♪

♪ Gotta keep climbin'
and fightin' ♪

♪ And climbin' and prayin' ♪

♪ And whoa-oh! ♪

♪ Gotta keep on ♪

♪ Keep on, keep on climbin' ♪

♪ Oh! ♪

♪ I want my mama ♪

♪ Oh! ♪

♪ Screaming
in the streets ♪

♪ Oh! ♪