In Anger, With Hope, a Black Man’s Mourners Pray He Didn’t Die in Vain

He has been so much a symbol that he’s almost seemed anonymous: the young black man killed by a white police officer, the spark for three nights of rioting that tore this city apart.

On Saturday, though, Timothy Thomas was eulogized.

And hundreds upon hundreds saw his face.

For nearly two hours, mourners filed past his open coffin, some pausing to make the sign of the cross, others reaching in to caress his face, in repose on a white satin pillow. His mother’s sobs ripped the air. His friends clasped arms in shuddering hugs. And speaker after speaker took the microphone to proclaim: “This young man did not die in vain.”

Outside the New Prospect Baptist Church, hundreds of people, mostly African Americans, milled about in the warm spring sun, praying, chanting and waving signs of protest against the backdrop of boarded-up buildings. Inside, at least 400 packed the pews, including dozens of young men wearing white T-shirts printed with Thomas’ picture. Some of the shirts read simply “RIP.” Others wore shirts with slogans that cursed the police.

The police, for their part, were nowhere in sight. Though they had made clear they were ready for trouble--and though they continued patrolling downtown in full riot gear--Cincinnati officers and Ohio state troopers stayed clear of the New Prospect Baptist Church. Police Chief Thomas Streicher Jr. said he wanted to give the large crowds room to grieve, adding, “This is going to be an extremely sad day.”

That it was. But the funeral was not just--not even mainly--about sorrow. It rang with a boisterous range of emotions, from grief to joy, from respect to rage, from pugnacious confrontation to a calm determination to heal this city’s wounds.

Mayor Charlie Luken and Ohio Gov. Robert A. Taft spoke of reconciliation. “I ask that today be a catalyst for a new Cincinnati,” Luken said--to cheers but also scattered shouts of “Don’t just say something; do something!” There were prayers and songs and gospel music. And Jamil Muhammad, a spokesman for the Nation of Islam, revved the mourners into a chanting, clapping frenzy when he shouted for them to channel their rage: “Don’t get angry and throw a brick. Don’t get angry and trash your neighborhood. Get angry and register to vote.”

Yet the biggest applause came for the ferocious rhetoric of the New Black Panther Party. Faces clenched, members of the group stood shoulder to shoulder inside and outside the church, dressed in their trademark black berets and military-style uniforms. To the rhythmic chant, “Black power! Black power!” party Chairman Malik Zulu Shabazz told the mourners that the violence of earlier in the week was “not a riot” but “a righteous, divinely ordained rebellion.”

He drew a prolonged standing ovation when he commanded: “We must continue to resist by any divine means necessary. We ain’t going to let nobody turn us around.”

Despite such vows, the city remained mostly calm into Saturday evening. Police fired bean bags to disperse a crowd that gathered shortly after the service. A woman and two girls were hit, but no serious injuries were reported. Police continued to enforce an 8 p.m.-to-6 a.m. curfew with vigor: They arrested 212 violators overnight Friday. Black leaders from Martin Luther King III to Kweisi Mfume, president of the National Assn. for the Advancement of Colored People, meanwhile, have come to Cincinnati to appeal for peace.

“It’s time to settle down,” agreed Harry Gentry, 47, as he directed traffic outside the funeral. “We need to get our heads together. We can’t deal with the problems while we’re angry.”

Others, however, could not put their rage aside.

Clutching tissues--and each other--Brenda Owensby and Elsie Carpenter sat through the funeral in disbelief, their grief edging into fury. Their sons were among the 15 black men Cincinnati police have killed since 1995. Both Roger Owensby and Michael Carpenter were unarmed. Both died after resisting arrest. And in both cases, the police officers involved were disciplined; those responsible for Owensby’s death are facing criminal charges.

“It’s time for this to stop. It really is,” Carpenter said.

“There’s going to have to be some change,” Owensby agreed. To both mothers, Thomas’ death seemed a senseless replay of their own loss.

Thomas, 19, had been cited over the last year or so for a dozen misdemeanor traffic citations, such as driving without a license, not wearing a seat belt and failing to secure his infant son in a car seat. He refused to pay his fines or appear in court. Both his green 1978 Chevy and his face were well known to Cincinnati police. Twice in the last year officers tried to detain him on the street. Both times he ran away.

About 2 a.m. April 6, officers spotted him again near a bar in the hardscrabble Over-the-Rhine neighborhood. Thomas fled. The officers chased. Thomas jumped a few fences, whirled into an alley--and came face to face with Officer Steve Roach, who shot him once in the chest. Police have said Roach feared for his life because Thomas was reaching toward his waistband as though to pull out a gun. As it turned out, Thomas was unarmed.

Roach, who has been placed on paid leave pending an investigation, has been “devastated” by the death, Chief Streicher said.

So were the mourners at the funeral, who agreed that Thomas had made some mistakes in his life but insisted he should not have died for them.

“People have taken as much as they can take,” said Peter Frakes, 39, who stood outside the church wearing a sandwich-board sign declaring, “Let my people go.”

He expressed little optimism that the situation would improve despite the many vows, both public and private, to make Cincinnati a better place for all. “We’ve had protests before. Nothing ever happens. As soon as everything quiets down, there will be another dead body.”