‘How do you protect a Black kid?’ Protesters demand justice in shooting of Kansas City teenager
Anna Spoerre
The Kansas City Star (TNS)
KANSAS CITY, Mo. — Like Ralph Yarl’s parents, Patience Gaye moved to the United States from Liberia to escape violence before starting a family.
That was years ago. But on Sunday, she marched alongside at least 200 people in Kansas City’s Northland at a peaceful protest in support of Ralph, a 16-year-old who was shot and critically wounded Thursday after he went to the wrong house to pick up his younger twin brothers, according to family.
Ralph is a junior at Staley High School. Friends said he’s talked of going to Stanford after he graduates.
Gaye, 33, a long-time family friend to Ralph’s parents, is pregnant with her first child, and filled with a new fear as she watches Ralph’s struggle to recover from his injuries.
“How do you protect a Black kid?” she asked. “… What are we supposed to do now? We left our countries because we don’t want to be killed. That’s why we left. They came to America for a better life. How is this a better life?”
Police Chief Stacey Graves said Sunday the police department is working to make sure the investigation moves as quickly as it can so the case can be presented to the Clay County prosecutor.
Police have not identified the person who shot Ralph.
‘A stellar human-being’
Meara Mitchell, a teacher of Ralph’s for several years, called his shooting “incomprehensible.”
She described him Sunday as a “stellar human-being” with a “quiet fortitude.”
Of her many students, Ralph’s work ethic and love and kindness for others makes him stand out. He’s dutiful to his family, she said, and he impressed her every day in his academics and his interactions with his peers.
“He is the utmost example of how you want a young man to carry himself in this world,” she added.
Nicole Bryan, 17, one of Ralph’s classmates and friends, said she met Ralph in seventh grade. They’re both in the band where he plays bass clarinet and she plays bassoon.
When they first met, he corrected her on her instrument, and helped her become better. He still pushes her to achieve her best, Nicole said.
She said Ralph has talked about studying chemical engineering in college. He’s a whiz at science and math, but his passion is music, Nicole said. He’s won numerous awards for his academics and his musicianship, she said.
“He’s brilliant,” she said.
‘Justice is the key’
Paul Yarl, Ralph’s father, is quiet like his son. He stood near the back of the long line of people chanting about love and justice as they stood in the street in front of the yard of the man who allegedly shot Ralph.
“I’m just here to show my gratitude for all the love and support,” said Yarl, who traveled to Kansas City from Indianapolis after the shooting.
So many people showed up Sunday because, Yarl said, what happened was obviously wrong.
Ralph was asked by a parent to pick up his brothers from an address on 115th Terrace, according to the family and a statement from the Kansas City Police Department. Instead he went to a residence in the 1100 block of 115th Street.
Family said a man at the house opened the door, saw Ralph and shot him in the head. When Ralph fell to the ground, family said the man shot him again.
Ralph got up and ran from the property, but he had to ask at three different homes before someone helped him, family added. Kansas City police officers said they responded to the area around 10 p.m.
Graves said Sunday that the homeowner who allegedly shot Ralph after the teen arrived at the wrong house was taken into custody Thursday and placed on a 24-hour hold.
In order to arrest someone, Graves said law enforcement needs a formal victim statement, forensic evidence and other information for a case file to be completed. Because of the teen’s injuries, Graves said police haven’t been able to get a victim statement yet.
Yarl said he hasn’t had the chance to talk to the prosecutor’s office, but he is hoping for answers soon.
“Justice is the key. I guess the same reason why most people are here. Justice. Peace. I’m with them. I don’t want anything special. I just want justice,” Yarl said.
In the meantime, the family remains focused on Ralph’s healing.
Ralph’s aunt, Faith Spoonmore, started a GoFundMe on Sunday to raise money for Ralph’s medical bills and other expenses.
“Even though he is doing well physically, he has a long road ahead mentally and emotionally,” she wrote on the online fundraiser before joining Sunday’s protest.
The family will be represented by Ben Crump, a civil rights attorney who represented families in several high-profile cases including Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown, as well as Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor and George Floyd.
They also will be represented by Lee Merritt, a Texas-based civil rights attorney who has previously represented the family of Cameron Lamb, who was fatally shot by KCPD detective Eric DeValkenaere in 2019.
‘How do you protect a Black kid?’ Protesters demand justice in shooting of Kansas City teenager
Kent Nishimura / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images
Last September, Angel Pittman bought land in a small town 8 miles outside Salisbury, North Carolina, with plans to build a tiny home to live in and transform buses into mobile salons on her new property. Weeks later, the 21-year-old hairstylist returned to find her buses vandalized with anti-Black racial slurs. Her neighbor, a white man, sat outside his home, his gun on display, his yard brandishing Ku Klux Klan signs, Confederate flags, and swastikas. "Oh, yeah, they do that all the time," Pittman, speaking to The Guardian, recalled deputies telling her of the scene. A sheriff's captain in the county told the outlet the incident was not a hate crime.
Fearing for her safety, Pittman moved back to her hometown of Charlotte. Thousands have since rallied to help her recoup her losses, raising over $118,600 in donations.
Hate crimes are defined by the Federal Bureau of Investigation as a "criminal offense which is motivated, in whole or in part, by the offender's bias(es) against a person based on race, ethnicity, ancestry, religion, sexual orientation, disability, gender, and gender identity." Rates of violence against marginalized individuals vary in frequency throughout the 30 years of documented reports from the FBI. Still, according to an annual report from the bureau, one thing remains constant: Black Americans are the most targeted demographic.
According to reports and surveys from the FBI and the Department of Justice, hate crimes have largely been connected to race or ethnicity. Within this sect of reported hate crimes, Black Americans carry most of the burden. With this in mind, Stacker analyzed data from the FBI's annual Hate Crime Statistics report to chronicle how Black Americans are affected by hate crimes.
Kent Nishimura / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images
Last September, Angel Pittman bought land in a small town 8 miles outside Salisbury, North Carolina, with plans to build a tiny home to live in and transform buses into mobile salons on her new property. Weeks later, the 21-year-old hairstylist returned to find her buses vandalized with anti-Black racial slurs. Her neighbor, a white man, sat outside his home, his gun on display, his yard brandishing Ku Klux Klan signs, Confederate flags, and swastikas. "Oh, yeah, they do that all the time," Pittman, speaking to The Guardian, recalled deputies telling her of the scene. A sheriff's captain in the county told the outlet the incident was not a hate crime.
Fearing for her safety, Pittman moved back to her hometown of Charlotte. Thousands have since rallied to help her recoup her losses, raising over $118,600 in donations.
Hate crimes are defined by the Federal Bureau of Investigation as a "criminal offense which is motivated, in whole or in part, by the offender's bias(es) against a person based on race, ethnicity, ancestry, religion, sexual orientation, disability, gender, and gender identity." Rates of violence against marginalized individuals vary in frequency throughout the 30 years of documented reports from the FBI. Still, according to an annual report from the bureau, one thing remains constant: Black Americans are the most targeted demographic.
According to reports and surveys from the FBI and the Department of Justice, hate crimes have largely been connected to race or ethnicity. Within this sect of reported hate crimes, Black Americans carry most of the burden. With this in mind, Stacker analyzed data from the FBI's annual Hate Crime Statistics report to chronicle how Black Americans are affected by hate crimes.
‘How do you protect a Black kid?’ Protesters demand justice in shooting of Kansas City teenager
Stacker // Jared Beilby
Hate crimes reported in 2021, the latest available data, show motivation was most commonly linked to race or ethnicity, accounting for nearly 4,500 incidents. Sexual orientation and religion—with 1,132 and 1,013 incidents, respectively—were the second and third most common biases.
This graph indicates only a fraction of hate crimes in the United States. Getting a full picture is a complicated affair. As ProPublica explains, the FBI relies on local enforcement agencies to collect and submit hate crime data, but there are no clear regulations and processes in place to do so. The nonprofit's investigation exposed communication breakdowns between local and federal agencies. Thousands of cases each year are lost in this broken system. These figures should then be at least taken as a means to determine trends and patterns.
One indication of the wide margin between reported and actual incidents lies in the discrepancy between the Department of Justice's National Crime Victimization Survey and the FBI's data. From 2005 and 2019, there were about 246,900 hate crime incidents self-reported by households annually. The FBI, however, only tallied 7,303 hate crimes in 2021—3% of that yearly average.
Stacker // Jared Beilby
Hate crimes reported in 2021, the latest available data, show motivation was most commonly linked to race or ethnicity, accounting for nearly 4,500 incidents. Sexual orientation and religion—with 1,132 and 1,013 incidents, respectively—were the second and third most common biases.
This graph indicates only a fraction of hate crimes in the United States. Getting a full picture is a complicated affair. As ProPublica explains, the FBI relies on local enforcement agencies to collect and submit hate crime data, but there are no clear regulations and processes in place to do so. The nonprofit's investigation exposed communication breakdowns between local and federal agencies. Thousands of cases each year are lost in this broken system. These figures should then be at least taken as a means to determine trends and patterns.
One indication of the wide margin between reported and actual incidents lies in the discrepancy between the Department of Justice's National Crime Victimization Survey and the FBI's data. From 2005 and 2019, there were about 246,900 hate crime incidents self-reported by households annually. The FBI, however, only tallied 7,303 hate crimes in 2021—3% of that yearly average.
‘How do you protect a Black kid?’ Protesters demand justice in shooting of Kansas City teenager
Stacker // Jared Beilby
The FBI began tracking hate crimes in 1991. More than 4,500 race-based hate crimes are reported annually—and that number has only increased.
The numbers have varied over time. There were sharp upticks for hate crimes toward Black Americans shown in 1996, the year former President Bill Clinton signed a welfare reform bill into law, sparking discussions about its supposed beneficiaries; 2008, the year after the Southern Poverty Law Center noted a staggering growth of hate groups such as neo-Nazis, skinheads, KKK, and Black separatists (which the SPLC has since collapsed to avoid drawing a false equivalency to white supremacist extremism); and 2020, when the country grappled with social upheavals amid the COVID-19 pandemic. That year, Black Americans accounted for 31% of racially motivated hate crimes reported in 2021, per FBI data.
Stacker // Jared Beilby
The FBI began tracking hate crimes in 1991. More than 4,500 race-based hate crimes are reported annually—and that number has only increased.
The numbers have varied over time. There were sharp upticks for hate crimes toward Black Americans shown in 1996, the year former President Bill Clinton signed a welfare reform bill into law, sparking discussions about its supposed beneficiaries; 2008, the year after the Southern Poverty Law Center noted a staggering growth of hate groups such as neo-Nazis, skinheads, KKK, and Black separatists (which the SPLC has since collapsed to avoid drawing a false equivalency to white supremacist extremism); and 2020, when the country grappled with social upheavals amid the COVID-19 pandemic. That year, Black Americans accounted for 31% of racially motivated hate crimes reported in 2021, per FBI data.
‘How do you protect a Black kid?’ Protesters demand justice in shooting of Kansas City teenager
Libby March for The Washington Post via Getty Images
Reliable hate crime data is limited, in part due to local agencies' reporting protocols and specific reporting criteria and definitions. Disparities in reporting are shown between local and federal agencies, with some even claiming to have no hate crimes in 2016.
Additionally, according to the FBI, the report collected in 2021 is the first to be compiled with data completely from the National Incident-Based Reporting System, which aims to improve the "overall quality of crime data collected by law enforcement" by capturing comprehensive information on each single crime incident as well as separate offenses within the same incident. During this transition to this system, some individual agencies and states failed to switch over to the new system in time, resulting in a lack of data for 2021. Because of this, there is a noticeable decline in reports between 2020 and 2021.
Libby March for The Washington Post via Getty Images
Reliable hate crime data is limited, in part due to local agencies' reporting protocols and specific reporting criteria and definitions. Disparities in reporting are shown between local and federal agencies, with some even claiming to have no hate crimes in 2016.
Additionally, according to the FBI, the report collected in 2021 is the first to be compiled with data completely from the National Incident-Based Reporting System, which aims to improve the "overall quality of crime data collected by law enforcement" by capturing comprehensive information on each single crime incident as well as separate offenses within the same incident. During this transition to this system, some individual agencies and states failed to switch over to the new system in time, resulting in a lack of data for 2021. Because of this, there is a noticeable decline in reports between 2020 and 2021.
‘How do you protect a Black kid?’ Protesters demand justice in shooting of Kansas City teenager
Stacker // Jared Beilby
On June 17, 2015, a group of Black churchgoers were attending Bible study at a historic Black church in Charleston, South Carolina, when white supremacist Dylann Roof—who had even sat in on the session—drew out a handgun and shot and killed nine of them. He was later convicted of 33 hate crimes and murder charges.
Roof's outspokenness about his anti-Black views—through his public website and writings from jail—and the aftermath of the massacre stirred conversations among federal lawmakers about the proposal of an anti-Black-specific hate crime bill shortly after. However, it has yet to move forward.
In 2021, Congress passed the COVID-19 Hate Crimes Act to specifically address anti-Asian hate crimes—and rightfully so—after the increase in hate crimes targeting Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders. In 2009, the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr., Hate Crimes Prevention Act sought to prosecute hate crimes based on sexual orientation and gender. No such bill exists regarding anti-Black hate crimes. In fact, the U.S. had no anti-lynching legislation until 2022, more than 100 years after the country's only Black member of Congress attempted to pass one in 1900.
Almost seven years after the Charleston shooting, on May 14, 2022, a white 18-year-old man named Payton Gendron traveled 3.5 hours from his hometown to Buffalo, New York, walked into a supermarket in a predominantly Black neighborhood armed with an AR-15-style rifle, and opened fire on 13 innocent shoppers, killing 10—all of whom were Black. Gendron received back-to-back life sentences without the possibility of parole for his racially motivated hate crimes.
The Buffalo tragedy hearkened back to the Charleston church massacre, reigniting demands for protections for Black Americans against such hate crimes—yet still to no avail.
Circumstances like these factor into the hesitation from victims regarding making official reports, ultimately contributing to the limitations of hate crime data.
In more than a third of cases (38%), victims surveyed said they dealt with the crime in another way rather than reporting it to the police. Almost a quarter (23%) of DOJ's survey participants who did not report hate crimes also stated they believed police would not or could not do anything to help. Other reasons for not reporting fell under the category of "not important enough," which includes victims who said it was a minor or unsuccessful crime, situations where the offender(s) was a child, or that insurance would not cover their losses.
Fear of retaliation from the offender was the third most common reason victims chose not to report.
Stacker // Jared Beilby
On June 17, 2015, a group of Black churchgoers were attending Bible study at a historic Black church in Charleston, South Carolina, when white supremacist Dylann Roof—who had even sat in on the session—drew out a handgun and shot and killed nine of them. He was later convicted of 33 hate crimes and murder charges.
Roof's outspokenness about his anti-Black views—through his public website and writings from jail—and the aftermath of the massacre stirred conversations among federal lawmakers about the proposal of an anti-Black-specific hate crime bill shortly after. However, it has yet to move forward.
In 2021, Congress passed the COVID-19 Hate Crimes Act to specifically address anti-Asian hate crimes—and rightfully so—after the increase in hate crimes targeting Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders. In 2009, the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr., Hate Crimes Prevention Act sought to prosecute hate crimes based on sexual orientation and gender. No such bill exists regarding anti-Black hate crimes. In fact, the U.S. had no anti-lynching legislation until 2022, more than 100 years after the country's only Black member of Congress attempted to pass one in 1900.
Almost seven years after the Charleston shooting, on May 14, 2022, a white 18-year-old man named Payton Gendron traveled 3.5 hours from his hometown to Buffalo, New York, walked into a supermarket in a predominantly Black neighborhood armed with an AR-15-style rifle, and opened fire on 13 innocent shoppers, killing 10—all of whom were Black. Gendron received back-to-back life sentences without the possibility of parole for his racially motivated hate crimes.
The Buffalo tragedy hearkened back to the Charleston church massacre, reigniting demands for protections for Black Americans against such hate crimes—yet still to no avail.
Circumstances like these factor into the hesitation from victims regarding making official reports, ultimately contributing to the limitations of hate crime data.
In more than a third of cases (38%), victims surveyed said they dealt with the crime in another way rather than reporting it to the police. Almost a quarter (23%) of DOJ's survey participants who did not report hate crimes also stated they believed police would not or could not do anything to help. Other reasons for not reporting fell under the category of "not important enough," which includes victims who said it was a minor or unsuccessful crime, situations where the offender(s) was a child, or that insurance would not cover their losses.
Fear of retaliation from the offender was the third most common reason victims chose not to report.
‘How do you protect a Black kid?’ Protesters demand justice in shooting of Kansas City teenager
Eugenio Marongiu // Shutterstock
With the FBI's data set, a category of "multiple biases" exists, leaving room for additional data to show hate crimes involving Black Americans that also occupy other marginalized identities. This highlights the opportunity for explicit discussion around hate crimes that cross intersections of identity, such as misogynoir (hatred directed toward Black women) or other biases that disproportionately lead to violence against Black individuals, such as transphobia (2 in 3 victims of fatal violence against transgender and gender-nonconforming people are Black transgender women).
Even without these more nuanced approaches to the data, it is clear that despite changing economies, political landscapes, and media coverage, Black Americans' level of risk for hate crimes has prevailed. Black communities only account for 13.6% of the total U.S. population, but each year, about a third of hate crimes specifically target Black Americans. It's a devastating legacy in the U.S. that's persisted with little to no federal policy to reverse the course.
With the FBI's data set, a category of "multiple biases" exists, leaving room for additional data to show hate crimes involving Black Americans that also occupy other marginalized identities. This highlights the opportunity for explicit discussion around hate crimes that cross intersections of identity, such as misogynoir (hatred directed toward Black women) or other biases that disproportionately lead to violence against Black individuals, such as transphobia (2 in 3 victims of fatal violence against transgender and gender-nonconforming people are Black transgender women).
Even without these more nuanced approaches to the data, it is clear that despite changing economies, political landscapes, and media coverage, Black Americans' level of risk for hate crimes has prevailed. Black communities only account for 13.6% of the total U.S. population, but each year, about a third of hate crimes specifically target Black Americans. It's a devastating legacy in the U.S. that's persisted with little to no federal policy to reverse the course.
As protesters chanted and prayed in front of the home where Ralph was shot, some neighbors joined in the demonstration while others watched from their porches or lawn chairs.
“Get out of the yard,” someone shouted as the crowd swelled on the street in front of the home where the shooting happened. The road is public property; lawns are not.
“That over there is a lot of hate,” Spoonmore told Sunday’s crowd in response to the comment, before looking over those encircling her and saying: “This is a lot of love.”
Ralph was shot in the Northland, a name for the Kansas City neighborhoods north of the Missouri River whose voters tend to be more conservative than in other parts of the city limits.
Police have not identified the shooter or his race. They said they are still investigating whether the shooting was racially motivated.
Councilman Kevin O’Neill, District 1 at-large, joined the crowd at the protest Sunday. He was among many Northlanders there.
He said while he doesn’t yet know all the facts, the whole situation is still sad and seems like “poor judgment.”
“I hate that the Northland always seems to get labeled and this isn’t who the Northland is, and it’s very disappointing,” he said of the shooting.
He said the Northland is often seen as “a bastion of white.” But he said Sunday’s turnout, which included people from all ages, races and backgrounds, truly represents the increasing diversity of the Northland.
He said it’s filled with many cultures and religions.
“People look at things and just make their visions what they want to, but that’s not what it is. We’ve got some great people in the Northland.”
He noted that there appear to be cameras on the outside of the property, so he’s hoping there will eventually be definitive proof of what happened.
“And hopefully that comes back and there is justice for the family,” he said.
Robyn Tuwei, who uses the pronouns they/them, has lived just down the block from the shooting for a decade.
Up until recently, they felt it was a very safe neighborhood for their family to call home. But there have been changes. They’ve noticed the sound of more loud gunshots and firecrackers.
Tuwei’s spouse is Black and their children are mixed race. Recently, they’ve had M-80 fireworks thrown at their house, they said. They reported the incidents to police but they still don’t know who is throwing them or why.
“Lately, it’s not felt super welcoming, so I can’t say that I was surprised, but it is disheartening,” said Tuwei, who is a teacher in the local school district, as well as an equity advocate.
Since the “unfathomable” shooting, Tuwei and their spouse have already talked of changing the ways their children spend time outdoors. They often take walks as a family, but they will no longer be walking past the home where Ralph was shot. When their 13-year-old son wants to visit a friend on that street, they will be driving him, even though it’s only a brief walk.
“It’s not considered safe anymore for us,” Tuwei said. “Not until (the shooter is) in jail, behind bars.“