For Black America the dream of justice has slipped from reach once again

Cops kill four people each day; Communities' battle goes on

- CHRISTOPHER BUCKTIN

It was May 25, 2020. By chance, as America battled the effects of Covid, I was only a couple of hundred miles from Minneapolis when the video surfaced.

At first, I didn't quite grasp what I was watching.

A man, handcuffed and pinned to the pavement. A white police officer, kneeling on his neck. Nine minutes and 29 seconds of horror.

The man beneath the cop, George Floyd, could be heard crying for his mother. He begged for breath. The world gasped in collective shock.

But I knew this wasn't just another police killing. It was easy to see the scale of what was to come.

I got in my car and drove through the night. Within hours of George being declared dead, I was outside the Cup Foods store in Powderhorn Park, where it all began.

At around 8pm, police had been called after the 46-year-old had been accused of trying to use a fake $20 bill.

When I arrived it was pretty quiet, locals standing around in disbelief.

But as the video spread, the crowd swelled. I watched the mood shift.

Young and old, Black and white, they came from miles around, unable to comprehend what they had seen.

A s night turned to morning, the chants grew louder and more angry. "No justice, no peace." And, George's final words, "I can't breathe".

The Third Precinct the police station where George's killer, officer Derek Chauvin, was based - became the focus of the outrage.

As the sun rose, people had moved from the store and started to surround it. And their retribution was swift.

I watched the building burn, smoke billowing into the sky. Years of injustice a history soaked in blood and prejudice - had finally boiled over.

As the hours drew on, the police responded with force, defending their station like a castle under siege. Tear gas choked the air. Rubber bullets flew.

I remember being frogmarched to the front by one protester.