Transcription

of Text for the Artwork

Lay-in Drapeaux for Justin Horton Smith
by Zeal Harris
Draft 8/4/2016

And still after all this time,
the Sun has never said to the Earth,
You owe me.
Look what happens with love like that.
It lights up the Sky. 1

I saw the quote above posted on Facebook the day I put this into the Google search bar:
Justin Horton Smith + killed police 1998.

This first search returned an image of Quentin Tarantino holding a small poster of Justin
at a "#RiseUpOctober" end police brutality rally at the end of 2015. I was shocked. Justin
was the second person (of four) that I personally knew who died under the hands of
police. His death 18 years ago had not been a famous case and so I wonder/ed how this
photo got into the hands of one of the most recognized directors of our generation.

The headline of the article about Tarantino stated that there was talk of boycotting
Tarantinos films because he called some cops murderers. For a split second, I
wonder/ed who these KKK-type boycotters might be, but I was much more interested in
the photo of Justin. Almost 2 decades had passed since I had seen Justin. In the picture,
he looked even more baby-faced, sweet, and innocent through my maturing eyes. That
radiant smilehe couldve been a brother to Trayvon Martin, or Sasha & Malia Obama.

If they dont see happiness in the picture
then at least theyll see black. 2

I glanced from my computer screen to the picture of Justins obituary that Moni (the
friend who was the connector between me and Justin) had texted me the day before.
The photo in Tarantinos hands was a crop and blow-up of the identical photo of Justin
on the front of his obituary.

Brown skin. You know I love you brown skin.
I cant tell where yours begins,
I cant tell where mine ends
Brown skin. Up against my brown skin. 3

To your mind, feelings are what create a person, something

unwilling, something wild vandalizing whatever the skull holds. Those
sensations form a someone. The headaches begin then. 4

"Then flashes, a siren, a stretched out roarand you are not the guy
and still you fit the description because there is only one guy who is
always the guy fitting the description.

Get on the ground. Get on the ground now. I must have been
speeding. No you werent speeding. I wasnt speeding? You didnt do
anything wrong. Then why are you pulling me over? Then you are
stretched out on the hood. Then cuffed. Get on the ground now." 5

And then back to the present three-way call. I was on the phone with Moni and Jabari.
Jabari was best friends with Justin back in the 90s when he first brought Justin over to
our first college apartment at 12th and N in Washington, DC. It was an apartment that
was barely furnished and its where we entertained company while sitting on the carpet,
learning how to sip merlot and how to smoke without coughing. In between nostalgia
and facts, Moni and Jabarinow responsible parents, each chastized their respective
cop of kids who were running around in the background.

Jabari said, It is the mystery of my heart of heartsto know exactly what happened.

I glanced at the obituary picture again. Silky afro, caterpillar mustache, happy eyebrows.
Crisp white button down shirt, baggy jeans. Crisp white sneakers. Such a cutie pie.
Funny with bright energy. Honey complexion. Justin had hit on me all evening long the
day we met and he called and came over days after to hang out with or without Jabari,
and continued polite advances until when? Im not sure. I had only probably hung out
with him a handful of times. I had turned Justin down with giggles because he looked a
little too young for his age and I thought I was grown.

Talkers laying it up close to the night
pose perching peeking seeing
all the silvermoon lies of throat
and tongue splitting in the unknown. 6

Jabari continued, One night he just disappeared. We were with two fine girls and then
we lost him. This was before everybody had cell phones and internet and stuff, so he
was just gonemissing. Later, I went looking for him retracing our trail and I found him

in Meridian Hill Park sitting on a bench with a homeless guy. When we were walking out
of the park, I was like, Manwhat the heck? I need to understand.

Justin said, One of those girls was lesbian so that wasnt going to go anywhere. Jabari
interjected, Well wouldnt you rather have been around two cute 22 year oldsand
Justin cut in saying, There wasnt anything those young girls could have talked about
that was gonna be better than what this guy could tell me. Hes not crazy. Hes just
homeless and since he wasnt crazy, I needed to know everything about how he got
there.

Jabari replied, But damn, it took you two days to find out?

And then Jabari went on to say, See thats just how he was. He was a people person
who saw the intrinsic value in everything and all people. He was far deeper than me.
And he was magnetic. I had to pre-game everything. I was envious of him. He taught me
things like it was okay to be dude, appreciate a pretty landscape, and talk about it. It
was the way he saw things. I think thats why Im a graphic designer today.

Riding though painted deserts
And you learned the Grand Canyon
Red mother
Brown sound
Black outline
Like the first time
Like the first time. 7

"Ever did you sit down
And wonder about what freedoms freedom would bring
Its so easy to be free
You start by loving yourself
Then those who look like you
All else will come naturally." 8


Returning to the call, Jabari gave me and Moni more exposition. Oh he always had
some kind of job. He worked at the Washington Post at Unos Pizza, wherever. I want to
say he was that kind of person who never had a bank account but always had money. He
was kind of a nomad. We were all searching. He had gone to High School at Fairfax High
in the Melrose Area of Los Angeles. His mom was a journalist or something like that and
when he was living in DC, she was in Harlem. Her brother, Justins uncle, was a

neurologist at the National Institute of Health and he lived in DC. Justin stayed with him
and enrolled in Montgomery College where he met a friend of mine that introduced us.
She said she thought we would click. She was right because after that, Justin was
wherever I was. I remember the time when I was at Lincoln University and I got jumped
by 15 guys in my dorm over some stupid stuff something had to do with girls or
something. I was getting beat and people that I thought were my friends were just
standing there. Well somebody went to get Justin and even though he was a small guy,
somehow he got all the guys off me like some kind of super hero. After all that, he
stayed with me and took care of me through the night. We were in the middle of
nowhere in cornfields and the hospital was far. He was just a good dude. He was the
first male friend of mine to cook me breakfast. Or give me a real birthday gift with some
thought behind it. Not just some birthday punches or a clumsy man-type giftsome real
nicely neat, thought out thing that I really wanted. Back then you had to be all stifled. A
demonstration of feelings represented a lack of masculinity. Nowadays there are all
kinds of new ways of being a black kid that are cool. You can be a nerd or skater in tight
pants. Its all good."

Moni and I laughed lightly. We wanted to know how Justin ended up in Tulsa. I knew
Tulsa had a loaded history. It used to be the Black Wall Street up until about 1920 when
angry whites decided to burn it down and massacre hundreds of the black residents. I
didnt bring this up in the conversation. There wasnt space.

Jabari said, I dont know. Something happened. I think his uncle took a job outside of
DC. So Justin went to share a tiny studio apartment with an aunt in Adams Morgan. It
was really small. He felt like he was running out of options. So he went to Harlem to stay
with his Mom and his sister. I remember him saying that he felt super trapped there.
Harlem was rough for him. He didnt like it. He was really a down south laid back dude.

If the foot of the trees were not tied to the earth, they would be
pursuing me. For I have blossomed so much, I am the envy of the
gardens. 9

Jabari cruised forward. He went back home to Tulsa. From what I gathered I want say
his dad was like a loveable partyboy alcoholic type who would burn the house down and
Justin would be there to pick him up off the front lawn. Well his Dad had had a stroke
and Justin was concerned about how his wife would handle things. Looking out for
people was something he just did. His dad, little siblings, and then he also had an older
brother that was in jail who had kids and he looked out for those kids too while he made
an effort to not end up like his brother.

It may be that the satisfaction I need, depends on my going away so

that when Ive gone and come back, Ill find it at home. 10

* * *

Home. Gone home. Home coming. Home going Home is where the heart is home is
where the hurt is. On August 14th, 1998 reports vary, but the fact remains that a
mother lost a son. A father lost a caretaker. Siblings lost a brother. Grandparents lost a
baby. A girlfriend lost a lover. Nieces and nephews lost an uncle. Numerous cousins,
friends, acquaintances, neighbors, co-workers, and unborn progeny all lost one. One
was metaphorically stolen from the edge of a mythical kingdom and put on a slaveship,
destined to be eaten by cannibals.

Them was said to say
pull him over high beam on is
steering column broken symptom sign of stolen car
Justin didnt pull over instead
hit gas.
Then apartment complex boxed-in?
Then armed security guard fired?
while cops followed?
dont even make sense.
Then Justin out of the car hid like hunted in trees?
Infrared helicopter
now witnesses witness
Them said he said
Can you let me call my girlfriend because its her car.
Said them cops said, Fuck your girlfriend Nigg- -!
Said Justin SPIT on them
adorned with ribbons and metals
so they beat Justins boyish body with the uniformity of brutality.

15 minutes later away
They decoy?
Them two cops gas up at Texaco.
Nervous sweat reekin?
Station attendant new witness
third cop arrives.
Another decoy?
On the scene advises

CHECK
Their man quiet
from the back seat of the police car to the ground
Pink lips on brown
BLOW PUMP
Kisses of desperation? Or merely a show?
Another civic beating albeit futile
ALTERNATE
BLOW PUMP
pump on Justins non-musical organs
SWEAT LISTEN LOOK
for any signs of beautiful irate subordinate black rhythm.
But the organs quieted more
Deafness
Cold handcuffs awkward
frozen into the back of Justins kidneys. 11

And the next thing I know we was going down the steps into the belly of that ark. The
moanin jumped up into my ears loud and I could smell something funny, like burnin of
sweet wood. The churnin of a paddle wheel filled up my ears when Headeye stopped at
the foot of the steps, I stopped too. What I saw I will never forget as long as I live. Bones.
I saw bones. They were stacked all the way to the top of the ship. I looked around. The
underside of the whole ark was nothing but a great bonehouse. I looked and saw crews
of black men handlin in them boneswhy there must have been a million cabins. They
were doing it very carefully, like they were holding onto babies or something precious.
12


* * *

Returning to the phone conversation, I continued scribbling short hand. Jabari was
talking. I saw the pictures his mother had of his body. Those cops beat him bad and
somehow managed to barely leave a mark on his face. The examiner said the bruises all
over Justin's body came from resisting in the handcuffs. When the toxology report came
back, it showed weed and cocaine in his system. Jabari sighed and made guttural
noises of disbelief. I never knew him to do anything except weed and a little acid. And
then with strong conviction, Jabari stated, A mystery to anybody who knew him. But no
case could be brought because when something like this happens, you lose your
innocence. To be exonerated, you have to be the perfect victim.

This for those who pose in they grave

Waiting for the peace when the law misbehave
I say we fall deep watch em walk the beat
Like cant you cant cross the streets
Make em all retreat
(Now) Judges and the jury be a little too acquainted.
Ending up defendants when we sposed to be the plaintiffs.
Laugh now, cuz soon the thrill stops
When heads get it on and start to kill the cops. 13

I apologized to Jabari and Moni for asking questions that churned up deep,
uncomfortable sorrow. I thanked Jabari for taking time to talk to me. I was too hesitant
to reach out to Justins mother for the story. Partially because she was a stranger and
partially because I didnt know what mystery box of emotions I might open if I had such
a privilege, and I wasnt sure that I would be qualified to meet the expectations of
creating an iconographic portrait of a beloved son.

Frankly, I was still concealing shock. I had only ever know that Justin was apprehended
by police and had had a heart attack in the back seat of a police car at the tender age of
24. I never knew that there was more information. Jabari reacted, Neither did anybody
else. Information is still coming out. He said that it was Justins mother, Johnsye Andree
Penix Smith, who over the years kept pressing. She was responsible. She was the one
who got Justins photo to be included with the photos of others who had lost lives while
in the hands of police in the celebrity rap music video, One Four Love 9 (see citation
13 in the endnotes) that came out shortly after New York Police shot an innocent
unarmed black man named Amadou Diallo 41 times in what became an infamous case.

Indeed on the internet, it is tragic and inspiring to see that after 18 years, Justins
mother is still marching. She walks the beat with her group, Mothers Cry For Justice
mothers who use their precious free time to keep their children remembered.
Meanwhile, comrades of their unfortunate category continue to swell raucous choruses
of lady and man griots.

* * *

"Yes and you want it to stop. You want the child pushed to the
ground to be seen, to be helped to his feet, to be brushed off by the
person that did not see him, has never seen him, has perhaps never
seen anyone who is not a reflection of himself.

The beautiful thing is that a group of men began to stand behind me

like a fleet of bodyguards, she says, like newly found uncles and
brothers. 14

We shall be riding dragons in those days
black unicorns challenging the eagle
we shall shoot words
with hooves that kick clouds
fire eaters from the sun
we shall lay the high white dome to siege
cover screams with holy wings
in those days we shall be terrible. " 1


End Notes

1. Quote attributed to either Rumi (13th Century Turkish-Persian poet) or Hafez (14th century
Persian poet).

2. Chris Marker quote from the film Sans Soleil. Quote cited in Citizen: An American Lyric,
Claudia Rankine, 2014

3. Song chorus to Brown Skin by singer Indie Arie, released 2001

4. Excerpt from Citizen: An American Lyric, Claudia Rankine, 2014

5. Excerpt from Citizen: An American Lyric, Claudia Rankine, 2014

6. Excerpt from the poem Kef 25, Henry Dumas. Note: Henry Dumas was a Black American
poet/writer killed in 1968 by police in a case of mistaken identity. His work will continue to be
cited throughout this artwork. Toni Morrison was the first to publish his work and it was
published posthumously in 1975.

7. Excerpt from the poem Brown Sounds, Henry Dumas, published 1989.

8. Excerpt from poem, Walking Down Park, Nikki Giovanni, 1996.

9. Quote attributed to the poet, Rumi (13th Century Turkish-Persian poet)

10. Quote attributed to the poet, Rumi (13th Century Turkish-Persian poet)

11. Experimental poetic adaptation by the author/artist of this artwork of

transcription/telephone interview/oral narrative as told to Zeal Harris (artist) by Jabari
Robinson, son of Harvard educated, anti-apartheid and reparations activist, Randall Robinson.

12. Excerpt from Arc of Bones, Henry Dumas, circa 1965.

13. Excerpt from rapper Rah Diggas section of the rap song, One for Love Part 1. Rawkus
Records, 2000. Note: a photo of Justin Horton Smith appears in this music video along with
photos of other who lost lives while in the hands of police.

14. Excerpt from Citizen: An American Lyric, Claudia Rankine, 2014

15. Excerpt from the poem Saba: Black Paladin, Henry Dumas. Note: The poem also inspired
the 1980 jazz album Black Paladins on the Black Saint Label.

10