Columbus, Again I Ask: Is This Who We Are?

Before I say anything else, let me be absolutely clear. A mother is dead. Three children have lost their mother. A family is grieving. Friends are hurting. A community is mourning a life that should never have ended this way.

And let me be equally clear about something else. I am not speaking for Alexis Hill's family. I would never presume to do that. But if someone walked into my mother's workplace, shot her to death, and then later pointed a weapon at police officers, I would not be shedding tears because that suspect was killed. I would be grateful that he could never hurt another family again.

That said, two things can be true at the same time. A murderer can deserve to be stopped. And a community can still ask questions about how that happened. Those questions become even more important when the chief law enforcement officer of our city publicly declares: "If you commit murder in the city of Columbus and then you shoot two of my police officers, we're going to kill you."

Many people applauded that statement. Many heard strength. I heard something else. I heard a statement that raises questions about professionalism, due process, and the message being sent to both officers and the public. Police officers are trained to stop threats, not to seek revenge. They are trained to use deadly force when necessary to protect life, not to carry out street-corner justice.

Words matter. When a police chief publicly says "we're going to kill you," what message does that send? Does it communicate that officers will use only the force necessary to neutralize a threat? Or does it create the appearance that the outcome has already been decided?

These questions are not about defending a killer. They are about defending the principles that separate justice from vengeance. Because if a police chief publicly promises death before all the facts are known, what happens the next time an officer-involved shooting occurs? What happens when a family attorney stands before a jury and plays that statement? What happens when someone argues that officers were acting under a culture that viewed killing a suspect as the desired outcome rather than the last resort? Those are not political questions. Those are legal questions. And they are questions the city may eventually have to answer.

There are also legitimate questions about what occurred during the final confrontation. What exactly happened? What do the body camera recordings show? What do the dashboard camera videos reveal? What sequence of events led to the suspect's death?

Without being facetious, it is fair to ask whether the suspect shot the K-9 officer while being pursued. If so, did that action create an immediate threat that justified the use of deadly force? Were officers acting in accordance with department policy, training, and established use-of-force standards?

These questions deserve answers—not because the suspect was innocent. By all accounts, he was not. They deserve answers because transparency is essential whenever the government takes a life. Public trust depends on accountability, and accountability requires a full and honest explanation of what occurred. The community has a right to know not only what happened, but why it happened and whether every action taken was consistent with the law and departmental policy.

The suspect's actions suggest someone who may have been experiencing a severe mental health crisis. No rational person walks into a workplace and commits such a horrific act. That does not excuse what happened. It does not lessen the pain suffered by Alexis Hill's family. But it does raise another question: What exactly was taking place in the mind of the person who committed this terrible crime?

Most importantly, it raises a broader question about leadership. Does the statement made by our police chief represent the values of professional law enforcement? Does it represent the values of Columbus? Does it reflect a commitment to justice, due process, and constitutional policing? Or does it reflect something else?

These are uncomfortable questions. I wish we did not have to ask. I wish Alexis Hill were alive and home with her children tonight. But when tragedy strikes, communities are often forced to examine themselves in ways they would rather avoid.

Monday, I asked the question Columbus: "Is This Who We Are?"

Today, I ask another question: Does the rhetoric coming from our leaders represent who we are? Because justice and accountability should never be viewed as opposing values. A community should be able to support law enforcement, grieve with a victim's family, condemn a murderer, and still demand transparency from those who wear the badge.

In fact, that is exactly what a healthy community is supposed to do.