LOUISVILLE, Ky. — Montez Jones is a "man of God," a positive guy who raps for charity events and posts uplifting messages on Facebook.
He doesn't often take political stances. But that changed Thursday when he became a major figure at a
protest against Louisville police over the shooting of Breonna Taylor, an unarmed black woman who was killed in a late-night raid of her apartment.
For hours, Jones walked the city's downtown streets with hundreds of others, livestreaming a mostly peaceful gathering that followed protests across the country, where people have called for justice in several high-profile deaths of black men and women at the hands of police.
"What am I supposed to do?" Jones said Friday. "(Police) put us in a position where it's like we've got no choice; we've got to do something because we can't keep allowing you to do this."
It was a sentiment that many protesters expressed as they made their way toward the crowd Thursday night, where emotions that had been building for months spilled out.
Eventually, violence erupted at the corner of Sixth and Jefferson streets, where seven people were shot near the steps of Metro Hall.
Since Taylor's death in March, outrage has grown on behalf of the 26-year-old, as well as two black men who were recently killed by police or former police in Georgia and Minnesota.
In Louisville, friends and strangers have called for answers and changes from local officials,
including a ban of no-knock warrants and
the firing of three officers who were involved.
While Mayor Greg Fischer on Friday
suspended no-knock warrants in response to the protest, they have not been prohibited permanently. And the officers remain on paid administrative leave while under internal investigation.
"Every day they're sitting at a desk getting paid, the anger is escalating," said Shameka Parrish-Wright, a local activist and member of Black Lives Matter Louisville.
"We're tired of seeing these same narratives over and over and over again. ... We just want to see that somebody is going to be held accountable when something happens to our community."
Cassia Herron, another local activist, said she was not at the protest, but said what happened in downtown Louisville was "a reflection of people being frustrated about what's happening and not happening in our local community."
“It’s a convergence of this moment that we are in in history — of the many injustices going on in our country," she said. "Now, quarantined and isolated in our homes the last couple of months, folks have been affected by that based on how much money they have and their access to health care and the ability to have money to buy groceries. In the midst of that, we get to continue to watch Americans be brutalized by public safety officers across the country."
Thursday's protest happened organically, starting with a single Facebook post that asked people to meet at 6 p.m. at a fast food restaurant on 10th Street.
But as videos of the gathering spread on social media, more began to join. And by 8:30 p.m., hundreds were at the corner of Sixth and Jefferson streets, framed by the judicial center, Metro Hall and City Hall.
“We’ve tried the peaceful protest countless times," said Jecorey Arthur, a Metro Council candidate. "This isn’t the first time we’ve seen protests in this city or in this country. … We need to come to the realization, we can’t wait any longer. I don’t want my 2-year-old to turn around and protest 50, 60, 70 years from now. We need to make this the moment where we decide what type of city are we going to be?”
Many in the crowd were young — teenagers and 20-somethings who set aside their differences to join in unity against what they see as continued injustice, several at the protest said.
"Breonna was a reality check for these kids," Parrish-Wright said. "A lot of them went to school with her. ... They're directly connected with her. ... This is directly their age group that is impacted. That's why this is so intense right now."
Jones and Parrish-Wright said they also can't forget a moment near the KFC Yum Center, where protesters were met by a line of baton-wielding police.
As black protesters created a line of their own, white protesters moved in front of them, linking arms to protect their black peers from any potential harm. A photo of the scene
has gone viral.
"The white front line has ... boulders in their skin where they took so many rubber bullets," Parrish-Wright said.
"I ain't never seen nothing like that," Jones added.
Councilwoman Keisha Dorsey, who briefly attended the protest, said she was struck by the diversity of people she saw — white, black, young, old.
"Last night we saw that our similarities are greater than our differences," she said. "... Breonna’s just the intersection of a long line of oppression, and at this point, we’ve reached the impetus of change.”
