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THREAD: I left Jefferson Square Park at 8:40, hoping to run up to the CJ and use the restroom before curfew set in at 9.
As someone who writes about Louisville’s kids for a living, I think it’s important I tell you what happened next.
As someone who writes about Louisville’s kids for a living, I think it’s important I tell you what happened next.
There was a group of about 40 people hustling to get over to the First Unitarian Church before curfew.
There was a young man with a megaphone, urging folks to stay on the sidewalk and move quickly so that they could make it on time.
There was a young man with a megaphone, urging folks to stay on the sidewalk and move quickly so that they could make it on time.
Then, a little boy (who looked to me to be about 7 or 8) peeled off from the group, heading back to the square.
His right fist was clenched and he held a wooden stick in his left. A lot of anger coming from a very little body.
His right fist was clenched and he held a wooden stick in his left. A lot of anger coming from a very little body.
A group of three women, all concerned, try to call him back. He keeps going toward the square.
I ask where his parents are and the women say they don’t know. They think he might have run away.
I ask where his parents are and the women say they don’t know. They think he might have run away.
The man with the megaphone then turns back, running after the boy. He gets down on his level and coaxes him back in the direction of the church.
It’s safer to stay with us, he says, because the people who stayed at the park are going to get arrested.
It’s safer to stay with us, he says, because the people who stayed at the park are going to get arrested.
He tells the boy there is food at the church and that he can stick with him. The boy agrees, joining back with the group, the stick still in hand.
The group then power walks to the church, still wary of the curfew. They dart across Broadway before they even make it to the 4th Street crosswalk they’re moving so urgently.
Once there, the concerned women (mothers themselves) try to figure out who he is and where he belongs.
Once there, the concerned women (mothers themselves) try to figure out who he is and where he belongs.
The boy runs into the church and gets a bowl of soup.
A pastor remarks that he sees kids like this all the time. He also is trying to find out where the boy’s home is.
A pastor remarks that he sees kids like this all the time. He also is trying to find out where the boy’s home is.
While @ALTONPHOTO tracks down the boy, I find the man with the megaphone, Cedo, and ask him why he felt called to take on this little kid he didn’t know.
“We black,” says Cedo, 20. “We don& #39;t leave nobody behind, especially no kid at that. These is my little brothers. These is my big brothers. These is my uncles. I mean, I call these folks my family. There’s no way I& #39;m gonna let a little kid run off..
“And the way to police is treating us, they would have violated him. Ain’t no telling what would have happened to him. I had to. It wasn& #39;t even an option to let him go. I had to go get him.”
All of a sudden, the boy darts down the street. A half dozen grown men chase after him, again trying to keep him in their sight. To keep him safe.
He goes and sits with them, shoulder to shoulder, on a cement slab.
He says he’s upset because he doesn’t want to go home.
He says he’s upset because he doesn’t want to go home.
I ask him why.
“I want to march,” he says.
“For justice.”
“I want to march,” he says.
“For justice.”
