July 12, 2003

She was among the last speakers at the vigil. She was angry, which didn't distinguish her from many of the speakers.

It wasn't just that a developmentally disabled boy had been shot and killed by a policeman.

The same cop, as everyone knows by now, had shot and killed another black teen 18 months before.

The same cop is now suspended for having allegedly threatened over the phone to shoot his former mother-in-law.

Of course, there would be anger.

But what made this speaker different was that she wanted to literally fight back. Charge the cops, the young woman advised, noting that "they can't kill all of us . . . one of us would get through."

And one guy cheered, although maybe it was two.

And Alvertis Simmons, the fiery leader who organized the march and who said the goal was not "to tear this city up," suppressed a smile.

It wasn't that kind of rally. It was the kind that called for an independent investigation, the kind that welcomed the mayor, who practically dared the crowd to be impolite. Wellington Webb's dare, by the way, went unchallenged.

There was much talk of justice and, yes, of injustice. There was much talk of pain and, yes, of anguish. There was little talk of revenge.

Paul Childs was shot and killed a week ago after a 911 call and while holding a knife. We know some of what happened that night, who fired and who didn't, what weapon was used and what wasn't.

One speaker couldn't resist noting that if a wild animal had been loose, the officers would have used a tranquilizer gun. We don't know why Jim Turney, faced with a boy, felt compelled to resolve the situation with four gunshots.

We know what else happened, though. The story touched a nerve and not a few hearts.

The story has dominated newspaper coverage for a week. It has dominated talk radio, with even sports-talk radio taking a turn. In fact, the Kobe Bryant story, with all its attendant celebrity, faded in comparison. It was Childs' case, after all, that attracted Johnnie Coch-ran.

For Thursday night's vigil, there was a crowd that peaked early and slowly drifted home.

And today, as his mother buries Paul Childs, the story is not only what happened - but also what didn't.

On the day of the rally, there was a flier that encouraged shooting cops. Everyone rushed to denounce it, some even worrying that it was a plant to stop the march.

The chief of police, meanwhile, revealed a rumor that there would be a bogus 911 call, in response to which a cop would be gunned down. More denouncements followed immediately.

This would not be Cincinnati, where there was a three-day riot two years ago after a white cop killed an unarmed black man. It would not be Benton Harbor, Mich., with its two-day riot after a motorcyclist crashed racing from the police.

The truth is that if there's a riot in Denver, it usually means either the Broncos or Avalanche have won a championship and that, in either case, the cops will bring on the tear gas.

The cops knew well enough to stay mostly away from the Childs vigil. Unfortunately, also absent were many of the city's politicians, including all of the white politicians. A spokesman for John Hickenlooper said the mayor-elect did plan to attend the funeral.

At the funeral, you'll hear much more about what kind of kid Paul Childs was.

I'm looking at his picture as I write this. It was given to me by Nickolas Dawkins, who worked with Childs at East High. A special-needs student, Childs had developmental problems and a degenerative eye disease that left him basically blind.

"When he's holding the knife," Dawkins said, "he wouldn't understand he was doing something wrong. He definitely wouldn't know someone was about to hurt him."

Dawkins said he didn't understand how anyone could look at Childs and think, even with a knife in his hand, that he was dangerous.

If you want to argue that a cop doesn't have the luxury of time, you may have to hear the counter argument about all the time that 15-year-old Paul Childs has lost.

And now, as the investigation continues, you can be sure of at least two things: The DA's office will not press charges - the law is written to protect the police - even if it turns out that Turney should never have been in that place at that time. And, whether Turney is cleared or not, a civil suit will still be filed and will cost the city millions.

But there's another important issue, and it goes directly to the new mayor. The community response to the shooting has been largely responsible. What we're waiting to see is whether the city's police force - asked to examine its own practices - can live up to that standard.

Mike Littwin's column appears Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Call him at (303) 892-5428 or e-mail him at littwinm@rockymountainnews.com.

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