There is something about the fabric of a courthouse, the vibration, the feel of that space that is both familiar and distant. Most courthouses were built at the turn over the century. Right after emancipation. Guess for who? Marble and oak floors, intricately carved 20 ft ceilings, hardwood floors and dark maple columns with designs that mean something. As I sit listening to Troy Anthony Davis’s lawyer petition the 11 circuit court of appeal panel of three judges, my mind wonders on who built this structure at 56 Forsyth Street where I sit. Which tribe of my ancestral lineage skilled in carpentry, master builders was I communing with as listen and wait…with only a remnant of hopefulness.
There are very few of us here. The main courtroom and overflow room is filled with others. Where are we I wonder. I am sure our ancestors are thinking the same thing. I remember courtrooms packed in New York under the legal prowess of Attorney Alton Maddox. The ancestral spirits were alive, on post to assist from the ancestral realm. I wonder almost out loud, how are they to assist now when we are not even there to support our own?
As I commune with the ancestors in the court I feel like I am floating. I’m barely relating, hearing or listening to the judges and lawyers. I hear the words but don’t always overstand. But I FEEL the vibration. “Clear and convincing evidence”, “due diligence”, “but for”, “free standing innocence claim”, trustworthy evidence”, “compelling case of innocence”, “possible merit”. What does this all mean I ask my family visible only through my 3rd eye. They seem to respond in chorus”, it means that we need interpreters in the Black Community. We need lawyers who embody the zealous creed exemplified by great lawyers like Charles Hamilton Houston. We need those who will interpret for us the often confusing, binding and coded language that constitute the everyday dealings of life in America…for the Blackman. “I silently cry for help.
The argument has been presented. The court is adjourned. Who really knows what awaits. I see Reverend Sharpton hastily exit the courtroom. Possibly to be one of the first to the news cameras. LOL. I greet brothers from the FTP, Uhuru Movement and my Rastafari sistren and silently wonder if our presence even makes a difference. So few in number.
I go to exit but something keeps me at the door for a moment. The ancestors await for me to pledge to them my recommitment to myself and to them to rise into the greatness that is our birthright and to support those who have already exemplified that amongst us.
Tonight (Wednesday) I will be along with hundreds of others at the Soul Vegetarian Return To Royalty Ballroom (doing just that) where Attorneys Alton Maddox, Mawuli Davis alongside Kene “the Wiz” Reaves, Songbyrd Jackson and others as we gather to in support of ourselves and who we are becoming. “Critical Thinking, International Bankers and the Obama Presidency” is the focus as we come in common unity to raise funds for the son of Wanique Shabazz who finds himself like we all will sooner or later tangled in the criminal justice system.
