New York Magazine - USA (2022-01-03)

january3–16, 2022 | newyork 21

J

osemejiamartinezwas 20 whenheleft the

DominicanRepublic,wherehemade a living

repairing air-conditioningsystems inSanto

Domingo,andarrivedintheBronx.It was 2007.

Hismother, Martha,hademigratedtotheU.S.in

the1990s,andit hadtakenhera longtimetosecurehim

residency. He gotworkat a factoryandat YankeeStadium,

andin2009,hecradledhisownbabyboy. Buthealsostrug-

gledwithhismentalhealth,andhecycledthroughpsychi-

atricfacilitiesandperiodsofdruguse.In 2019,hewentto

prisononanassaultcharge, servinga littlemorethana year

beforebeingparoledintothepandemicwinter.

Twocasesofbeerheallegedlyswipedfroma CTownsuper-

marketgothimarrestedagain.Acrackpipehewasalleg-

edlycarryinggothimchargedwithcriminalpossessionofa

controlledsubstance.He wastwomonthsintoa Rikersstint

onJune 10 whenbeadsofsweat collectedonhisnoseandhe

wentlimp.Inmatesalertedtheofficeronduty. Ratherthan

callforhelp,theofficertoldMejiaMartinez’scellmateto

walkhimtohisbed.Anhourlater,hewasdead.Themedi-

calexaminergavethecauseasacutemethadoneintoxication.

MarthaMartinezstilldoesn’t knowexactlywhat hap-

penedtoherson.Hadhebeenseen

bythejail’ssubstance-abusetreat-

mentcenter?Amidtheconstellation

ofinstitutionalfailuresthat compose

Rikers,theprogramis a conspicuous

success.Detaineescangetmetha-

donethere,butthetreatmentcan

bedangerousif notproperlymoni-

tored.IfMejiaMartinezwasgivena

dose,wasit toolarge?Couldhehave

boughtit off someonewhohadsecretedawaysomeofhis

owndose? Marthahasnoidea.“It’sshameful,”shesays.“I

justknowthat he’s deadandburied.”

JOSE MEJIA

MARTINEZ, 34

JUNE 10

robert jackson,

JUNE 30

On his 34th birthday. An image from his funeral pamphlet.

PHOTOGRAPHS: COURTESY OF WILLIE COBB (JACKSON); COURTESY OF MARTHA MARTINEZ (MEJIA MARTINEZ)

I

nside the check-cashing shop in Far Rocka-

way where Willie Cobb owned a stand selling hats,

T-shirts, gloves, and other items, he’d often get a

visit from his nephew. Robert Demitrius

Jackson—“Meecho”—would make his way back:

thick forearms, a teasing smile, tossing out jokes. He’d

help Cobb with the business, or they’d go down to the

beach to shoot hoops. Jackson didn’t share much with

his uncle, who didn’t pry. “It’s not easy for these men in

this world,” Cobb says. “I always would let him know,

‘I’m here for you.’ ” Years ago, he convinced Jackson to

come pray at Refuge Church of Christ and be saved. The

last time the two men saw each other, they ate chicken

and rice and talked about God, quoting scripture they

had committed to memory.

In October 2020, Jackson was arrested on burglary

charges for stealing packages. In the months he spent

at Rikers, the staffing shortage reached a crisis point,

and the officers who did show up for work found them-

selves pulling double and triple shifts. Early on June

30, after more than 20 hours without a break, the offi-

cer in Jackson’s unit walked out. Jackson began gasp-

ing for air. That evening, another officer noticed

he was struggling. The staff called for help three

times, but when a medical team arrived, nearly

90 minutes later, Jackson was unresponsive.

The medical examiner concluded that heart

disease had ended his life.

Most people’s idea of incarceration is that the

state locks people in to protect those on the out-

side. Cobb says jailers have an obligation to care

for the people inside, too. “You have to depend

onthese people to make sure that you’re safe,” he says.

“Unfortunately, from what I hear, that was not the case.

And I think there should be consequences. I really do.”

“IT’S NOT EASY

FOR THESE

MEN IN THIS

WORLD.”