Mr. Jayland Walker is deadof 90 decisionsmade near the entrance to the I-80by eight policemenresulting in 64 woundsto one bodyso plainly riddledentrance was exit & exitentrance(he was 25)although his particulartraffic violationgoes unspecifiedstillnear three abandoned rubber factoriesmanufacturing silenceeven beforeBicentennialbuntinghungbedraggledred white and blue caution tapeall over dead deaddowntownlit up now by the sodiumlights of the Rubber Ducks’minor league baseball stadium—Akron is rising!—presided over by acold moonand eight men(fiveon the forceless than two-and-a-half years)whose lurchingcollectiveweight and outstretchedintractabilitiesaimed a young manemptyhandeddown a green stretch of summer’s listennot far from thechildish hillof the Soapbox Derbyand the Catholic school gym where LeBronJames first levitatedgodheadjust a milemaybe lessfrom the placeSojourner Truth askedher oneworld-changing question—if it were a differentworld than the onewhere eight policemenagree“Mr. Walker assumeda firing position”while running away from themas fast as he couldin the shadow of the InventorsHall of FameMiddle Schoolwhere no fraction ofMr. Walker’sassumptionis visibleon the partialbody-cam recording(it is always a partial recording)about which Akron’sMayor warned“this will be hard to watch”meaning—does it—that Mr. Walker’s two eyes remain openwatching uswatch for another246 yearsthe commonplaceappalling?