It really is sad to imagine the world henceforth without the great journalist, activist, thinker, teacher, filmmaker, writer, blogger, TV producer — on and on.
He was brilliant, fearless, kind, funny, generous. A man in full — devoted father and reliable friend. I had the privilege of being interviewed by him a couple of times, mostly in connection with Free South Africa work. But I remember his early days back to WBCN in Boston.
He was a force for integrity, fairness, human rights, and justice every moment of his life. And he had a lot more living, working and dancing to do.
I have a hard time getting beyond the awful fear Martese Johnson must have endured. How many of us have said “Thank God they didn’t kill him”?
He was guilty of nothing. He was across the way from his campus, but from the moment they smashed his face into the pavement, he knew with certainty that his life could end there. And that the officers could make up any story they wanted to explain why they had to kill him — or how he brought about his own death.
It appears to me that this picture shows his ankles shackled: