New film tackles police and brutality

From Rodney King to Sean Bell, police brutality remains an explosive topic for African Americans. “If I Die Tonight,” a new documentary by Berklee alum Seyi, explores recent cases of police brutality in the Northeast, revealing many harrowing instances of blatant injustice.

But unlike most conversations about police brutality, Seyi juxtaposes these stories against those of cop killings — demonstrating that tragedy is suffered on both sides, and that mutual cooperation is necessary to ameliorate police-civilian relations.

Originally trained as an actor and musician, filmmaker Seyi (pronounced “shay”) attended East 15, a premier acting school in London, and Berklee College of Music for music composition. Seyi ultimately embraced film as a medium that could integrate both passions.

“With film, it’s so much deeper than any other medium — for me, anyway — it’s almost indescribable how deep it is,” he said in a published interview.

“If I Die Tonight” was born after the tragic death of Amadou Diallo, the 23-year-old Guinean immigrant who was reportedly reaching for his wallet before being shot and killed by four New York City police officers in 1999. Seyi, a New York resident, said that he felt the need to do something.

There was only one problem. Seyi had never made a documentary before — his previous work included short films, music videos and commercials. But he believed a documentary was the best way to explore the relationship between communities and law enforcement.

“I just kept going deeper and deeper [into this issue] because . . . you can’t just tell a quick story with a documentary,” Seyi explained.

And “If I Die Tonight” certainly does not tell a “quick story.” Taking six years to create, the award-winning film details the emotional stories of victims of police brutality, law enforcement officers and police widows.

Amadou Diallo is the central story of the film. The unarmed Diallo was shot 41 times — and hit 19 times — in the entranceway of his Bronx apartment building. The officers involved claimed that Diallo matched the description of a rape suspect, ignored their orders to show his hands, and appeared to be drawing a gun from his jacket.

A Bronx grand jury charged the four police officers with second-degree murder and reckless endangerment, but the trial was quickly moved upstate to Albany — a predominantly white area — on the grounds that pretrial publicity precluded the possibility of a fair trial in New York City. The mixed-race jury acquitted the four police officers of all charges.

 The series of events sparked massive protests across the city.

Diallo’s parents filed a $61 million lawsuit against the City of New York and the officers, but accepted a $3 million settlement years later.

“If I Die Tonight” also featured the less-publicized case of Nicholas Heyward, Jr. In 1994, Heyward, a 13-year-old African American teenager, was shot and killed by a police officer in the stairwell of his Brooklyn housing project. Heyward and his friends had been playing on the building’s rooftop with toy guns —which the police allegedly mistook for real weapons.

 However, witness testimony said that upon seeing the armed police officer, Heyward said, “We’re only playing” and dropped his toy gun.

 Heyward was left conscious after the shooting, but his mother was not permitted to see her son as he lay wounded in the stairwell. The child was taken to a Manhattan hospital where he soon died.

District Attorney Charles Hynes refused to press charges against the police officer who shot Heyward, because he felt the officer was not at fault for mistaking the toy for a weapon.

 Interwoven into the story of Diallo and Heyward were those of Patrick King, a New Jersey officer killed on the job, and Keith Neumann, another New Jersey officer and newlywed killed by friendly fire during a drug raid.

 Interviews with their widows served as a reminder of the enormous risks police officers willingly take on to protect civilians each day, and of the difficult split-second decisions that must be made.

 Craig Floyd, chairman of the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund explained this by reflecting on Bill Brye, a police officer stabbed 17 times by a teenager while on the job.

 “What happens if Bill Brye gets to jump on that 17-year-old kid as he’s coming at him with his knife? And he draws that weapon and he shoots and kills that teenager? Is Bill Brye called a hero?” Floyd mused. “I don’t think so.”

 These stories humanized the police — something Seyi himself experienced while making the film.

“Before they were just these guys for whom I would have to watch out when I’m walking past, but now they’ve become more human,” Seyi said. “So when I see a cop, I just see a dude who’s doing his job.”

While strained relations with law enforcement characterized the 1990s, this changed after the terrorist attacks on 9/11. Law enforcement was suddenly seen in a positive light — they became national heroes for sacrificing their lives to save civilians trapped in the World Trade Centers. But with this increased trust came dramatically enlarged policing powers, particularly through the Patriot Act.

Under the Patriot Act, law enforcement was granted greater powers of surveillance, and new technologies were utilized to facilitate it.

“It’s important to keep vigilant, and to keep paying attention to what’s going on, as far as what our government’s doing with the Patriot Act,” Seyi warned at the film’s screening in Boston.

Seyi explained in a previous interview that he did not create the film to reinforce negative attitudes towards law enforcement — but rather, to foster dialogue between police and the people.

“The ‘f*** the police’ mentality is a little boring to me because it lacks subtlety,” Seyi said. “It doesn’t do anything for anybody except create more of the same. If we’re looking for people to stop getting shot in the street or cops to stop being shot, we need a different paradigm to work with.”