There were at least eight fatal police shootings of Native Americans in October. “I’m overwhelmed,” said Marlee Kanosh, Paiute Tribe of Utah. Her Facebook page, Native Lives Taken By Police, is a source for information on police violence affecting indigenous people. With careful, respectful research and comprehensive coverage, she chronicles a terrible toll: Natives killed outright by police and those who die in custody.
The workload, which she does as a volunteer, is always heavy, but in recent weeks it has been unexpectedly worse. “I have so many deaths to look into now,” she said. “My notebooks are full. I have piles of paper everywhere.”
The number of Natives who died in October is much higher than the monthly average found in a 2016 study by Claremont Graduate University scholars Roger Chin, Jean Schroedel and Lily Rowen. They uncovered 29 deaths in a recent 15-month period, for an average of about two a month. The October police-shooting fatalities occurred around the country—one each in Washington state, Oklahoma, Texas, Nebraska and Nevada, along with three in Oklahoma.
Marlee Kanosh, administrator of the Facebook page Native Lives Taken By Police, speaks at a demonstration in Salt Lake City in 2014. (Courtesy Marlee Kanosh)Marlee Kanosh, administrator of the Facebook page Native Lives Taken By Police, speaks at a demonstration in Salt Lake City in 2014.
(Courtesy Marlee Kanosh)
Kanosh couldn’t point to a reason for the spike in October. However, she noted that poorly funded health care and untreated or undertreated mental illness and addiction continue to place Native people in jeopardy when police confront them as suspects.
“Sometimes it’s difficult to comprehend orders given by officers in a fast-moving situation,” explained Chin, a political scientist who studies real-world applications of criminal-justice policy and data analysis. “And a person in the midst of a mental health crisis may not be able to comply quickly—or at all.”
This points to the need for better police training, he said. “The need for officers to have specialized training in helping individuals with mental illness is very important, perhaps more than ever.”
Kanosh criticized police claims that citizens should simply follow orders to survive these encounters. “We have a saying here in Utah, ‘Comply or Die—It’s Not the Law!’” Kanosh said. “What about our rights? We didn’t put up our hands fast enough? Someone instinctively pulled up his pants when cops ordered him to crawl forward on his knees? How can we possibly know exactly what’s expected of us in these horrible situations? And because we don’t, we die?”
Police need to better communicate what exactly compliance entails, according to Chin. That’s because officers in different jurisdictions may expect the public to behave in unique ways, he explained. “For example, while most academies train officers to have a driver remain inside the vehicle during a traffic stop, I discovered on a trip to Louisiana that sometimes officers want individuals to exit the vehicle in order to see better what they are doing. The public needs to know these and other expectations.”
Button commemorating the 2012 death of Marlee Kanosh’s brother, Corey, created by the advocacy group National Unity Against Police Brutality.
Improving training and communications is good for police as well as the public, Chin said. “Using lethal force can be a life-changing, career-ending experience. For most officers, it’s a decision that’s not taken lightly and has enormous emotional consequences.”
Some social media and web pages devoted to the Native Lives Matter issue include various issues indigenous people face nowadays, including demonstrations against the Dakota Access Pipeline, for example. However, Kanosh’s Facebook page maintains a tight focus on a crisis that exploded in her life when her brother, Corey, was shot by police and left to die in the Utah desert in 2012. “At that time, people whose relatives had been killed reached out to me,” she recalled. “The huge community of those affected by police violence embraced me and my family. Now, I reach out to embrace others and let them know I have been where they are. Whenever a new person or family comes in, we all gather around them.”
The initial information for a post on Kanosh’s page comes from a huge, ever-growing circle of contacts from coast to coast, including community members, advocates and groups. “People message me constantly. Groups share lists with me. I know relatives of those who died. I know their neighbors. If someone thinks someone who’s been killed just might be Native, they send me the information, so I can look into it.”
She follows up, contacts the victim’s friends and family and requests permission to post photographs and related information. “I don’t want people to be forgotten. I want to keep their stories alive. So, I also redo the older stories from time to time,” Kanosh said. “Today, I remembered someone I should post about again. I felt so sad.”
Kanosh survives on prayer and meditation. She will not accept praise for her daily toil on behalf of the dead and their loved ones. She called herself, “Just one girl who lost her brother.”
Read more at http://indiancountrytodaymedianetwork.com/2016/11/16/deadly-month-police-shootings-natives-spike-october-166416
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