AC Staff note: I loved this article not just because I share the author's Kentucky roots and his feelings of occasional pride in the commonwealth but because it captured how a city can be torn apart but also how it can pull together. I also loved being reminded about how Muhammad Ali's start in boxing began—when police officer, Joe Elsby Martin, saw and heard the young Ail (then Cassius Clay) and cared about him and his future.
Photo credit: A mural in Louisville’s westside Russell neighborhood, at the corner of S. 18th Street and Muhammad Ali Boulevard. (Jahi Chikwendiu/The Washington Post)
September 24, 2020
Just four years ago, the Louisville I remember turned grief into one of its finest hours. It mourned the loss of homegrown icon Muhammad Ali with intimacy and grandeur. That June day was a stirring, heartwarming, unifying celebration of a famous life. It was cathartic, watching a hearse drive Ali’s body through the city — his city — one last time and seeing the love and appreciation emanate from an estimated crowd of 100,000. For an unapologetic Kentuckian, it was a proud moment, before an international audience, of our humanity eclipsing the sadness.
It was, sadly, so long ago.
It feels ancient now as I look at home from afar. Unbridled Spirit, the commonwealth’s adopted slogan, has been crushed. The incomprehensible loss of Breonna Taylor, who became famous only in death, has torn Louisville apart the past six months. On Wednesday, the three police officers who killed her during a flubbed apartment raid were cleared of any criminal charges directly tied to her shooting. A Jefferson County grand jury indicted only one of them, former detective Brett Hankison, on three counts of first-degree wanton endangerment for firing his gun into the neighboring apartment.
When stray bullets penetrate the wrong walls, it’s reasonable to expect justice. However, the ones that pierced Taylor’s body and ended her innocent life go down as justifiable.
To read the entire article by Jerry Brewer, click here.
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