The more I hear about President Trump's covid treatment, the more I think about the late James Brooks, an 80-year-old black man who lived outside Detroit. He left Mississippi for Detroit and built a middle-class life for his family as a company man at Chrysler.

When James Freeman got sick this spring, there was so much confusion about what to do. This energetic man felt unusually tired and chest pain. His kids suspected covid, but they did not take him to the nearest hospital b/c it had a bad reputation for treating black patients.

So they took him to a drive-through test site at a hospital farther away with a better reputation. The outcome wasn't much better. He was denied a covid test 2x because he had no fever (even though he was elderly, lethargic and with chest pain). That's how limited tests were.

His blood pressure was alarming, so doctors agreed to give him an X-ray. Only then did the note covid had set into his lungs. The hospital was low on beds, so Freeman had to sleep over night in a wheelchair, then a cot. And finally, a hospital bed, where he died alone.

When his daughter, Robin Freeman-Brooks, told me the story, she and her family were still debating which ten people would be able to go to his funeral. "How are we supposed to decide this?" she asked. "Draw straws? Calculate who loved him the most?"

As the covid story now coalesces around the president, I think it's important to remember how catastrophic this virus has been for American families. When Freeman-Brooks told me this story in May, there were so many stories like this that we didn't publish it. It was that common.

James Brooks who worked all his life to give his family new opportunities. His American dream ended up with him being denied over and over again in the final days. His family had to figure out the right way to mourn, wondering if he was treated justly. That's the story of covid.

James Freeman*. Oy. My apologies.