"Yost said state leaders have been pushing law enforcement departments to avoid "do-it-yourself" investigations, but there are no set rules about who investigates when a local law enforcement agency kills someone. ..." 1/2
..."Agencies can request that the investigation be carried out by a sister agency within their own or an overlapping jurisdiction." 2/2
That's like if you stole the money out of a register at work, then got to pick who investigated the matter, and you got to handle every piece of evidence before handing it off to your co-worker. By the way, you don't care what the CEO of the company thinks. That's just how it is.
This is what we're up against in this city. Complete disregard for truth, chain of evidence, state regulation, communal responsibility, and constitutional adherence.
Law enforcement is literally a gang.
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Casey Goodson Jr.'s case is so singularly wrong that you cannot place other things next to it. His murder is constitutionally wrong. It is a breach of not only social contract ("don't break the law and you won't have any reason to fear the law"), but anti-American.
You couldn't exhibit more of the freedom that America touts than Goodson was in the moment before his death. His murder breaks at least four of the ten amendments contained in the Bill of Rights.
It is a death that leaves a scar on not only his family and community, but on the country itself.
That's why you can't use his name or his death in a congratulations letter to your favorite soccer team.
Welcome to another #PrinceTwitterThread series, curated by @DeejayUmb and @EdgarKruize
Everyday is a thread by a Prince superfan on a specific song, this time covering the Sign O The Times DELUXE release. My thread offering is on funk dance anthem “Housequake”.
You will need to have listened to the song first to fully experience this take, so here you go:
...and already, I have suckered you.
That is the 1987 version, the version you know and grew up with. I hope you enjoyed it because you can now promptly throw that version in the trash.
Welcome to the sixth installment of multi-authored Twitter threads dedicated to #Prince's Purple Rain album. Each day is dedicated to one song, posted by one author, and today is my turn. Keeping with the order of the album, my song is “When Doves Cry.” #PurpleRain9on9
I recently did a thread on #PurpleRain where I broke down the ridiculous business model of the (fictionalized) First Avenue nightclub portrayed in the film.
Naturally, I have a follow up on #Prince’s “Graffiti Bridge”, which has not one but FOUR nightclubs...
...all of them run like trash.
So, another dive into the PCCU (Prince Cinematic Club Universe). I have 18 observations. Get comfortable.
The story of Graffiti takes place in Minneapolis at the fictional Seven Corners...art district? Skid row? The Seven Corners AREA is populated by lots of steam grates, nowhere near enough streetlights, the most unsavory creative class to ever bebop in a street, and 4 clubs:
When in a discussion about political action and solutions, I constantly mention the need for multi-pronged approaches, how there is rarely only one way to a political solution. When I need evidence of this idea I often referred to Congressman Elijah Cummings.
While aimed at overlapping goals, Cummings did work I would never do. More, he was what I could never be, but in a way I could generally respect. I did not agree with all of his work, but I could not question the rectitude of the principles behind it.
He fought battles I would never fight, but that must be fought. He took lumps I would never have to take, and for the express purpose of ensuring someone like me wouldn’t have to take them.
I struggle to empathize with those Americans who find themselves suddenly in a country they don’t recognize because black, brown, and red people have been telling you the whole time where you are.
We have been showing you what America is capable of the whole time because what it lets happen to the least of us is what it IS. And this country has been letting the worst happen to the least since, literally, day one of America.
We weren’t predicting poll results or forecasting the political landscape, but we have spent our entire existence here telling you with our doubled words, our marching bodies, our loud music, our geometrically impossible hair, our sagging pants, our gold-gilded smiles...