march 16–29, 2020 | new york 91politicians,” tweeted former NYPD commis-
sioner Bernie Kerik the day after Tess’s
death. Even Mayor de Blasio vowed on Twit-
ter to expand “the NYPD’s presence in the
area immediately. We will keep this com-
munity safe, arrest the perpetrators and
ensure nothing like this can happen again.”
Then, in a radio interview, Ed Mullins,
the head of the Sergeants Benevolent Asso-
ciation, alleged that Tess had been in the
park buying pot, blaming the murder on
hands-off policing. (Tess apparently did
have a bag of marijuana in her pocket when
she encountered the boys, but the alterca-
tion was not part of a drug deal.) This was a
dog-whistle aimed at law-and-order hard-
liners lamenting the erosion of police
authority in the years since Ferguson and
Black Lives Matter. Tess’s parents, who had
remained mostly silent, were infuriated to
see their daughter deployed as a political
puppet, and released an excoriating state-
ment. Mullins had “intentionally or unin-
tentionally directed blame on Tess, a young
woman, for her own murder.” In a pained
email, someone in Tess’s inner circle wrote,
“T ess was a big-tent person.”
In addition to the extra NYPD officers,
Columbia University security promised
more cars, more foot-patrol officers, more
shuttle buses, and more escort services.
Brad Taylor got his Parks patrol officers, six
of them, stationed full time in a little house
by the playground. A longtime Harlem
homeowner looked at the police presence
cynically, as a performance designed to
quell the race-based anxieties of white peo-
ple in Harlem and Morningside Heights.
All the cops were the city’s answer to an
unasked question: “What are you going to
do to protect us from the natives?,” as he put
it to me. “The undertone is jungle drums.”Echoes of the central park
Five were obvious to everyone: a
photogenic white victim and sud-
denly every young black male in
Harlem was under suspicion. But the in-
tervening years had inverted the optics, as
well as the emotional and political re-
sponse. In the late 1980s, the city’s cli-
mate of racism and fear propelled the
wrongful conviction of innocent teens.Now, in an era of heightened vigilance
and activism, a whole culture’s protective
instincts kicked in, insisting that young
black suspects sought by police could be
seen as casualties as well. “How can we
talk about crime without talking about all
the reasons crime happens in the first
place?” asks Amari Gaiter, a junior who is
a member of Columbia’s Women of Color
Pre-Law Society, which produced an open
letter to Beilock and Bollinger demanding
fair process for any suspects.
The day after the murder, Iesha Sekou,
who runs an anti-violence program in Har-
lem, started getting phone calls from con-
cerned parents, telling her about police
coming to their apartments unannounced
and without warrants and stopping chil-
dren riding on bikes. “There was this rush
to pick up young black boys. And the lan-
guage was like, ‘Boys are running around,
jumping people, beating up people in the
park.’ Some people even said the police
were swabbing their children’s mouths and
taking their picture. We got calls that the
police were going to people’s homes, knock-
ing on doors, intimidating them.”
The language used by police and the
press to describe the suspects was con-
cerning, too. “Young and violent. Young
and violent,” Sekou points out. “Violent.
Violent. Violent.” Sekou went on local
news to denounce the language. “It’s stig-
matizing young men and boys. If you live
in that area and you’re young and in the
park, you’re violent. That’s not fair to the
people who live in the neighborhood, and
it gave the consent to be treated certain
ways by the Police Department and by
the community.”
“This angelic-little-white-girl thing, it’s
just too much,” said Monica Dula, a Harlem
resident and an attorney at the Legal Aid
Society in the Bronx. “I’m so concerned that
they are going to use this as an opportunity
to just fuck with young black people and
Latino people all day and all night.”
At the same time, everyone is trying to
wrap their heads around what happened.
“This murder is really horrific,” Sekou says.
“I’m a mother and a grandmother. I
wouldn’t think that 13- and 14-year-olds
would want to take someone’s life. A hand
holding a knife and entering someone’s
body. That’s a lot.” At this point, she and her
friends in the neighborhood prefer to
reserve judgment. “I want to be in a still
place and hear the facts.”
On the day after the murder, the baby-
faced boy was walking near the corner of
119th Street and Morningside Avenue, not
far from the park, with a group of six or
seven friends, boys and girls, including one
who zoomed ahead on a skateboard. A few,
including the boy, were wearing the khakipants that identified them, possibly, as stu-
dents at P.S. 180, a uniform school. Spotting
the group from his unmarked police car,
Officer Randys Ramos-Luna made a U-turn
on Morningside Avenue. On his department
cell phone, Ramos-Luna had several stills
from video taken in the park the previous
night. The video was poor quality, the stills
dark and blurry, faces unidentifiable. But, as
Ramos-Luna testified later in family court,
he could make out what people were wear-
ing, and at least one had on khaki pants, a
black coat with red zippers, red sneakers,
and a book bag with a white logo.
The boy and his friends ducked into the
vestibule of a building on 119th Street, and
together with two other officers, Ramos-
Luna followed them in.
It was then, Ramos-Luna testified, that
he noticed that the boy’s clothing matched
one of the figures on his phone. Ramos-
Luna asked what he was doing in the build-
ing, and the boy “said he was visiting his
cousin,” Ramos-Luna testified. But when
the police officer asked him what apartment
the cousin lived in, “he hesitated and said,
‘Um, um,’ and then said he was inside the
vestibule because he was getting warm.”
Ramos-Luna took the boy’s name and
address and the phone number of his uncle,
his guardian. Then the boy looked at the pic-
tures from the park. He peered down at the
phone, then stepped away, picked up his leg
and regarded his own foot. “Oh,” he said,
according to Ramos-Luna, “these are the
same sneakers.” Back on the sidewalk,
Ramos-Luna told his colleagues that he was
going to arrest the boy for trespassing and
bring him in for questioning.During the interrogation,
the boy implicated his two older
friends. Community leaders say all
three have “devastating” family his-
tories, and that this boy, even more than
others his age is particularly impression-
able and vulnerable to peer pressure. Der-
rick Haynes is speculating, but he fixates on
an early news story according to which one
of the older boys dropped the knife before
the murder and the boy picked it up and
handed it back. Haynes believes that only a
child who’s too eager to please would do
such a thing. “That’s how much of a good
kid he was,” Haynes says. “I’m the youngest
one, I’m going to pick the knife up and give
it to them. He should have just left it. It
would have changed the whole scenario.”
(It’s not clear whether the knife in his back-
pack was the murder weapon.)
At P.S. 180, the parents were reeling.
Seven years ago, after the death of Taylonn
Murphy’s daughter Chicken, the school had
been the site of a meeting between worried
parents and the cops about an escalation inMorningside HeightsCONTINUED FROM PAGE 43TRANSMITTED________ COPY ___ DD ___ AD ___ PD ___ EIC0620FEA_Majors_lay [Print]_36890197.indd 91 3/13/20 9:09 PMmarch 16–29, 2020 | new york 91politicians,”tweetedformerNYPDcommis-
sionerBernieKerikthedayafterTess’s
death.EvenMayordeBlasiovowedonTwit-
tertoexpand“theNYPD’s presenceinthe
areaimmediately. We willkeepthiscom-
munity safe,arrest theperpetratorsand
ensurenothinglike thiscanhappenagain.”
Then,ina radiointerview,EdMullins,
theheadoftheSergeantsBenevolentAsso-
ciation,allegedthat Tesshadbeeninthe
parkbuyingpot,blamingthemurderon
hands-offpolicing.(Tessapparentlydid
havea bagof marijuanainherpocket when
sheencounteredtheboys,butthealterca-
tionwasnotpartofa drugdeal.) Thiswasa
dog-whistleaimedat law-and-orderhard-
linerslamentingtheerosion ofpolice
authorityintheyearssinceFergusonand
BlackLivesMatter.Tess’sparents,whohad
remainedmostlysilent,wereinfuriatedto
seetheirdaughterdeployedasa political
puppet,andreleasedanexcoriatingstate-
ment.Mullinshad“intentionallyorunin-
tentionallydirectedblameonTess,a young
woman,forherownmurder.” In a pained
email,someoneinTess’s innercirclewrote,
“T esswasa big-tentperson.”
InadditiontotheextraNYPDofficers,
ColumbiaUniversity securitypromised
morecars,morefoot-patrolofficers,more
shuttlebuses,andmoreescort services.
BradTaylorgothisParkspatrolofficers,six
ofthem,stationedfulltimeina littlehouse
bytheplayground.AlongtimeHarlem
homeownerlookedat thepolicepresence
cynically, asa performancedesignedto
quelltherace-basedanxietiesofwhitepeo-
pleinHarlemandMorningsideHeights.
Allthecopswerethecity’s answertoan
unaskedquestion:“Whatareyougoingto
dotoprotectusfromthenatives?,”asheput
it tome.“Theundertoneis jungledrums.”E
choesofthecentralpark
Fivewereobvioustoeveryone:a
photogenicwhitevictimandsud-
denlyevery youngblackmalein
Harlemwasundersuspicion.Butthein-
terveningyearshadinvertedtheoptics,as
wellastheemotionalandpoliticalre-
sponse.Inthelate1980s,thecity’scli-
mateofracismandfearpropelledthe
wrongfulconvictionofinnocentteens.Now, in an era of heightened vigilance
and activism, a whole culture’s protective
instincts kicked in, insisting that young
black suspects sought by police could be
seen as casualties as well. “How can we
talk about crime without talking about all
the reasons crime happens in the first
place?” asks Amari Gaiter, a junior who is
a member of Columbia’s Women of Color
Pre-LawSociety, which produced an open
lettertoBeilock and Bollinger demanding
fairprocessfor any suspects.
Theday after the murder, Iesha Sekou,
whorunsananti-violence program in Har-
lem,startedgetting phone calls from con-
cernedparents, telling her about police
comingtotheir apartments unannounced
andwithoutwarrants and stopping chil-
drenridingon bikes. “There was this rush
topickupyoung black boys. Andthe lan-
guagewaslike, ‘Boys are runningaround,
jumpingpeople, beating up people in the
park.’Somepeople even said the police
wereswabbing their children’s mouths and
takingtheirpicture. We got calls that the
policeweregoing to people’s homes, knock-
ingondoors,intimidating them.”
Thelanguage used by police and the
pressto describe the suspects was con-
cerning,too.“Young and violent. Young
andviolent,” Sekou points out. “Violent.
Violent.Violent.” Sekou went on local
newsto denounce the language. “It’s stig-
matizingyoung men and boys. Ifyou live
inthatareaand you’re young and in the
park,you’reviolent. That’s not fair to the
peoplewholive in the neighborhood, and
it gavetheconsent to be treatedcertain
waysbythePolice Departmentand by
thecommunity.”
“Thisangelic-little-white-girl thing, it’s
justtoomuch,” said Monica Dula, aHarlem
residentandan attorney at the Legal Aid
SocietyintheBronx. “I’m so concerned that
theyaregoingto use this as an opportunity
tojustfuckwith young black people and
Latinopeopleall day and all night.”
Atthesame time, everyone is trying to
wraptheirheads around what happened.
“Thismurderis really horrific,” Sekou says.
“I’m a mother and a grandmother. I
wouldn’tthink that 13- and 14-year-olds
wouldwantto take someone’s life.A hand
holdinga knife and entering someone’s
body.That’sa lot.” At this point, sheand her
friendsin the neighborhood prefer to
reservejudgment. “I want to be in a still
placeandhear the facts.”
Onthedayafter the murder, the baby-
facedboywaswalking near the corner of
119thStreetand Morningside Avenue, not
farfromthepark, with a group of six or
sevenfriends,boys and girls, including one
whozoomedahead on a skateboard. A few,
includingtheboy, were wearing the khakipants that identified them, possibly, as stu-
dents at P.S. 180, a uniform school. Spotting
the group from his unmarked police car,
Officer Randys Ramos-Luna made a U-turn
on Morningside Avenue. On his department
cell phone, Ramos-Luna had several stills
from video taken in the park the previous
night. The video was poor quality, the stills
dark and blurry, faces unidentifiable. But, as
Ramos-Luna testified later in family court,
he could make out what people were wear-
ing, and at least one had on khaki pants, a
black coat with red zippers, red sneakers,
and a book bag with a white logo.
The boy and his friends duckedinto the
vestibule of a building on 119th Street, and
together with two other officers, Ramos-
Luna followed them in.
It was then, Ramos-Luna testified, that
he noticed that the boy’s clothing matched
one of the figures on his phone. Ramos-
Luna asked what he was doing in the build-
ing, and the boy “said he was visiting his
cousin,” Ramos-Luna testified. But when
the police officer asked him what apartment
the cousin lived in, “he hesitated and said,
‘Um, um,’ and then said he was inside the
vestibule because he was gettingwarm.”
Ramos-Luna took the boy’s name and
address and the phone number of his uncle,
his guardian. Then the boy looked at the pic-
tures from the park. He peered down at the
phone, then stepped away, picked up his leg
and regarded his own foot. “Oh,”he said,
according to Ramos-Luna, “theseare the
same sneakers.” Back on the sidewalk,
Ramos-Luna told his colleagues that he was
going to arrest the boy for trespassing and
bring him in for questioning.During the interrogation,
the boy implicated his two older
friends. Community leaders say all
three have “devastating” family his-
tories, and that this boy, even more than
others his age is particularly impression-
able and vulnerable to peer pressure. Der-
rick Haynes is speculating, but he fixates on
an early news story according to which one
of the older boys dropped the knife before
the murder and the boy picked itup and
handed it back. Haynes believes that only a
child who’s too eager to please would do
such a thing. “That’s how much of a good
kid he was,” Haynes says. “I’m the youngest
one, I’m going to pick the knife up and give
it to them. He should have just left it. It
would have changed the whole scenario.”
(It’s not clear whether the knife in his back-
pack was the murder weapon.)
At P.S. 180, the parents werereeling.
Seven years ago, after the death ofTaylonn
Murphy’s daughter Chicken, the school had
been the site of a meeting betweenworried
parents and the cops about an escalation inMorningside HeightsCONTINUED FROM PAGE 43