What if there isn't a video? For families of people killed by police, it's 'not a fair fight'

MINNEAPOLIS – Monique Cullars-Doty's nephew Marcus Golden was thoughtful and good with his hands. He put together many pieces of furniture in her home.

He told her he'd return to finish the job, but Golden never made it back. On Jan. 14, 2015, the 24-year-old Black man was shot and killed by St. Paul police.

"They killed him before he came back to finish the table," Cullars-Doty said. The spot in her basement where his final project would have gone is still empty, six years later.

The void her nephew left behind is both symbolic and real for her, and so is the emptiness left by others who die after confrontations with police.

Losing a loved one to a police incident is sudden and shocking enough. What ensues, according to relatives and friends of those who died, is a harrowing process of trying to gather information, legal support, video evidence, money and – ultimately – the truth. It's no easy path for them, according to several who endured the ordeal and spoke with USA TODAY.

Some hailed Derek Chauvin's murder and manslaughter convictions in George Floyd's death as affirmation that police will be held accountable for killing Black people. But those who have lost someone to a police confrontation said the case brings mixed emotions as they watch the Floyd family get the justice they're still fighting for.

Derek Chauvin's conviction is progress: But it 'will do nothing to change' urban policing on its own

"There’s a special name for the trauma that’s associated with a police homicide," Cullars-Doty said. "When you're a person of color, particularly when you have a Black man killed by police, there's people who will celebrate."

The bystander video of Floyd's death, while Chauvin's knee was on his neck, went viral, and protests erupted in all 50 states and around the world in a matter of days.

Family members who lost relatives at the hands of police in Minnesota in past years didn't get that kind of attention – and some fear that, in part, is why they didn't get justice either.

Not long after Golden died, Cullars-Doty's lawyer told her what would happen next: There would be secret grand jury proceedings and the officers would not be charged.

“To this day, I appreciate that because I see families fighting, and in the back of my mind, I’m like, ‘Dang they’re not going to get justice,’” she said. “I already know how this goes.”

'They murdered our loved ones the same way'

Toshira Garraway tries to help others like her. Her support group in Minnesota, Families Supporting Families Against Police Violence, aims to give people a place to tell their stories and meet others who feel the same sense of injustice.

The meetings are small, but the purpose is large: to get justice for those they lost and change policing in Minnesota, particularly while the eyes of the world are on the Chauvin trial.

"We will not just sit back and watch George Floyd’s case knowing that they murdered our loved ones the same way – unjustly," Garraway said during a meeting after the first week of jury selection in the Chauvin trial.

It’s been more than 11 years since she learned her fiance, Justin Teigen, was found dead at a recycling facility in the nearby city of Inver Grove Heights hours after he was pulled over by St. Paul police.

She said the extent of his injuries led her to believe he was killed by police. Police said surveillance footage shows Teigen hiding in a dumpster, where he must have been when a garbage truck came.

An autopsy conducted by the Dakota County medical examiner said Teigen suffocated as he was crushed in the recycling truck. It said he was intoxicated and had a minor head injury from a car crash.

Garraway said it hurts that one case gets so much attention, but she knows what happened to Floyd has put a spotlight on the problems in Minnesota.

“It is bad here,” she said. “The police are treacherous here. They have traumatized and brutalized, particularly the Black, Indigenous and minority community here in Minnesota.”

Like Garraway, almost everyone at the meeting, many of whom are Black, has lost a loved one after an encounter with law enforcement – people whose names aren't known across the country. Many in the room said they are frustrated they never got the opportunity for justice.

In most cases, the officers involved were never charged. Some people are fighting for civil settlements years after their relatives died. The city of Minneapolis approved a $27 million settlement for the Floyd family soon after jury selection started in Chauvin's trial.

The bystander video, public pressure and a high-profile lawyer helped accelerate Floyd's case. Many of the families in this room have waited months for basic information about what happened to the people they cared deeply about, said Michelle Gross, leader of Communities United Against Police Brutality.

“The police hold all the cards," Gross said. "They’re the ones who did that killing, then they have all the body camera footage, the squad camera footage, every piece of the information that could help a family understand what’s happening. So then they hang on to that as long as they humanly can. ... They often frankly outright lie about what happened.”

Then come the justifications for the killing and the "vilification of the victim," Gross said.

Under Minnesota law, police officers are justified in using deadly force to protect themselves or another person from death or great bodily harm.

Families say laws must change

The meetings are part support group, part legislative strategy session. Many families said getting justice is about more than a victory in the courtroom; it requires changing the laws and culture around policing to prevent killings and increase accountability and transparency.

The families push for nine bills that would eliminate the statute of limitations for wrongful death lawsuits, allow families access to unredacted body camera footage in critical incidents within 48 hours and end qualified immunity for police officers.

"We're in the streets demanding justice," Garraway said at the meeting. "OK, what is justice, and how do we get it? How we get it is through the laws changing."

Two weeks after Floyd died, Minneapolis City Council members promised to dismantle the city’s police department and create a public safety system. That hasn't happened.

At the state and city level, chokeholds have been banned. The city outlawed "no-knock" warrants in most situations. The city and state overhauled guidelines on use of force. Activists said those laws were defanged.

At the weekly Families Supporting Families Against Police Violence meeting, the group takes a moment to celebrate that two of their proposed bills – which would end police-only responses to mental health crisis calls and limit no-knock warrants – were sent to the Minnesota House floor, an important step to becoming law.

Gross, who delivered the good news, said the attention of the Chauvin trial may help the coalition get some of its bills passed. Last summer, the group successfully lobbied for a statewide ban on warrior-style training after a three-year effort, but Gross, like many activists, said most reform efforts have failed.

The group was eager to know what was next. Another news conference? A joint op-ed in local media? Another protest?

Garraway told them she didn't know, but they had to keep working to change laws.

"It's imperative that we get our stories out there," she said. "The time is now while the world is watching."

It’s working in Eugene, Olympia, Denver: More cities send civilian responders, not police, on mental health calls

'We just all hope for somebody to know our loved ones' names'

In late August 2019, Amity Dimock told colleagues of an intense fear: that one day she would get a call saying her 21-year-old son, who has autism, had been killed by police. Four days later, she got that call: Her son, Kobe Dimock-Heisler, had been shot and killed by the Brooklyn Center police in front of his grandmother.

Nearly 1 in 4 people shot and killed by police have a mental illness, according to a Washington Post database of fatal shootings by on-duty police officers. Police have fatally shot more than 1,400 people with mental illnesses – the majority of whom were white – since 2015, according to the database.

Police have shot people experiencing a mental health crisis: Who should you call instead?

Dimock-Heisler’s grandfather called 911 after Dimock-Heisler threatened him with a knife and hammer, according to a report from the Hennepin County attorney. His grandfather told the four responding officers everything was OK, but one officer said they needed to check on everyone's safety.

Dimock-Heisler told officers he pointed a knife at his grandfather and cut himself because he did not want to be committed to a mental hospital again. A short time later, Dimock-Heisler rushed out of his chair, and officers tried to stop him, according to the report.

Officers used a Taser on Dimock-Heisler during the struggle, then shot him six times after he grabbed a knife and tried to stab one of them, according to police.

The Hennepin County attorney report said the officers involved – Cody Turner, Brandon Akers, Joseph Vu and Stephen Holt – “spoke with him respectfully and empathetically, clearly attempting to de-escalate the situation.”

Dimock said having four armed officers respond to a mental health crisis escalated a situation that had already been resolved. The officers should have known her son was a danger to himself but not to others because one of them had responded to a previous incident, she said.

For weeks, Dimock got little information about the case. She tried to go back to work, but she couldn’t focus.

“I spent a good six, seven months in bed and pretty much finally rolled out of bed when George Floyd was murdered,” she said. “I felt like there was this light shown on the situation, and it was my responsibility to get up and try to take advantage of that.”

Dimock said she was emotionally prepared when she learned there would be no criminal charges for the officers involved in her son's death. She knew a civil lawsuit had little chance of success because of qualified immunity.

She expressed frustration that Hennepin County Attorney Mike Freeman took immediate action in Floyd’s case but took almost a year to announce the officers involved in her son's death would not be charged.

“George Floyd happened. Community outcry. Boom, they go forward and start dealing with George Floyd,” she said. “We just all hope for somebody to know our loved ones’ names, also.”

Prosecutors may be hesitant to prosecute police, consciously or subconsciously, because they work closely with them, according to Kate Levine, a professor of law at the Benjamin N. Cardozo School of Law in New York who studies police prosecution.

"Prosecutors will do a lot of investigation and take a lot of care before they even decide to charge a police officer. It could take a year," she said. "If you have a civilian, they’ll charge them as fast as they can, and they’ll figure it out later."

Dimock joins Families Supporting Families Against Police Violence meetings via Zoom from her home in Baxter, where her son’s ashes sit on a table near the kitchen, surrounded by photos, trinkets and succulents he started growing before he died. His stepfather takes care of them now.

She's comforted by connecting with others affected by police violence. “You just can't quite understand the deep pain that we've experienced,” Dimock said.

'It’s an uphill battle without a video'

Cullars-Doty, whose nephew was killed, said one of the biggest hurdles families face is the power of the police narrative.

Golden died in 2015 when police responded to a 911 call that he was parked outside his ex-girlfriend's apartment and sending threatening text messages.

Police claimed Golden drove at officers at high speed as they approached him. Investigators said his car hit an officer's gun, and he fired two rounds, Minnesota Public Radio reported, citing documents released by the department.

Golden's family contended the officer slipped on ice and accidentally discharged his gun.

The other officer on scene said he thought the gunfire came from Golden's car and fired shots at the driver's window. After the SUV crashed, officers pulled Golden from the driver's seat and handcuffed him. He had a gunshot wound to his head.

Officers estimated the entire incident lasted less than a minute. Police officers were the only witnesses. There was no surveillance, dashcam or bystander video, Minnesota Public Radio reported.

"It’s an uphill battle without a video," Cullars-Doty said.

Many police departments prohibit officers from shooting at moving vehicles in certain situations. The New York City Police Department adopted a policy nearly 50 years ago prohibiting officers from doing so unless the person driving threatens deadly force, according to the Police Executive Research Forum.

In May 2015, a Washington County grand jury concluded that the shooting of Golden was justified and declined to indict officers Jeremy Doverspike and Dan Peck.

Levine, the law professor, said grand juries often don't indict police officers because cops are typically able to argue that the killing was justified.

If there is an indictment, police officers are afforded a presumption of credibility when they testify in court, Levine said. "Civilians are rarely believed if they are testifying opposite a police officer," she said.

Cullars-Doty said police made it difficult to find out what happened. Four years after Golden's death, she said, the department tried to put his vehicle up for auction and charge the family fees for storage at the impound lot.

"That's evidence, you’re getting rid of evidence," she said.

The family called a news conference. That's when police told them the fees would be waived and the vehicle would not be sold. St. Paul police spokesman Steve Linders told the Pioneer Press police had tried to reach the family to determine how to proceed and the news conference “made it clear they want the vehicle back."

The family sued the city of St. Paul and the officers involved this year, just before the statute of limitations was set to expire. They allege officers Doverspike and Peck used excessive force in violation of Golden’s constitutional rights.

Cullars-Doty, a co-founder of Black Lives Matter Minnesota, said she's pushing forward with her lawsuit not for money but to "clear" Golden's name and hold police accountable.

"There has to be change," she said.

'This is not a fair fight'

Like Floyd's, Brian Quinones' death was captured on video from beginning to end. Police squad car cameras and Facebook Live video documented his final moments Sept. 7, 2019.

Police said Quinones, 30, violated "multiple traffic laws," and an officer tried to stop his vehicle, "thinking that Quinones may be drunk." After a chase, the officer stopped his squad car in front of Quinones' vehicle and exited with his gun drawn, and "Quinones quickly came up behind him, aggressively pointing a knife in his direction," according to the Hennepin County attorney.

The officer told Quinones to drop the knife. The second officer to arrive at the scene used a Taser on Quinones. Quinones ran at the first officer who fired three shots, the county attorney's office said. Three more officers had arrived and fired at Quinones.

He was shot seven times, according to an autopsy. He was not under drug or alcohol influence during the incident, it found.

"We ended up homeless, carless and then I ended up jobless due to COVID and husband-less all in a matter of like three months," said Quinones' wife, Ashley, who was at the scene.

Each year, about 100 knife-wielding people are killed by police, who can fire upon such suspects if they come within 21 feet, said Rajiv Sethi, professor of economics at Barnard College in New York and co-author of “Shadows of Doubt: Stereotypes, Crime, and the Pursuit of Justice.”

There's “no scientific basis in that 21-foot rule, and officers tend not to be killed by a visible knife,” said Sethi, who is studying the use of deadly force by U.S. law enforcement.

The five officers involved in Quinones' death were not charged.

Ashley Quinones questioned why Freeman was removed from Floyd's case, yet the Hennepin County attorney continued to handle her husband's case and others such as Kobe Dimock-Heisler's.

Watching some of the Chauvin trial, she said, "really upset me because my husband wasn't given the same opportunity."

Ashley Quinones filed a wrongful death lawsuit seeking $50 million against the city and the officers involved last June.

The suit describes Brian Quinones as an aspiring musician, barber and proud father who moved to Minnesota from Puerto Rico more than 20 years ago. It contends Quinones wasn't violating any traffic laws the night he was killed and officers conducted an "unlawful felony stop."

Ashley Quinones has more information than many families: She was at the scene and has publicly available video and eyewitness evidence. Despite that, she said she is missing "key details" about what happened to her husband.

"Not only do I not get criminal charges, no justice, but I also now have to fight tooth and nail" for information, she said. "This is not a fair fight."

Quinones doesn't have a high-powered attorney like Ben Crump, who represents Floyd's family. She turned to GoFundMe to fund her case.

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She hopes to use her husband's case as a blueprint to show others what to do in the aftermath of a police killing. More than that, she hopes to see changes made in police departments.

Quinones, who started her own organization called Justice Squad, called for "community accountability" and said organizers should do more to include families such as hers.

"It's important to center those people," she said. "If you're out here chanting and telling someone's story, give them the benefit of telling the story themselves."

Contributing: Eric Ferkenhoff and Marco della Cava, USA TODAY; The Associated Press

Follow N'dea Yancey-Bragg on Twitter: @NdeaYanceyBragg

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Chauvin is guilty. What about other police violence in Minneapolis?