Kenosha at the center

The nationwide debate over police violence and law and order takes over the Wisconsin city

by

News crews from around the world have their cameras set up in front of the home where 29-year-old Jacob Blake was shot seven times by a Kenosha police officer nine days earlier. The shooting left Blake paralyzed and thrust Kenosha into the center of American politics and the movement to fundamentally change policing and the criminal justice system. 

Residents of the neighborhood stand outside their doors taking in the spectacle and the people flooding in. Two men, who identify themselves as Remix and Buck, live in the area and don’t know quite what to make of the scene. But neither are surprised by what happened to Blake.

“[Police shootings] happen all the time. It’s all just degrees of what makes people want to look. The only surprise is where it happens next,” says Remix, a Black middle-aged man who confirms his chosen name by revealing a tattoo on his shoulder. “Could have been outside my door. Could have been me. Dealing with this shit is a reality of life. Maybe not for you, but it is for us…. No, I don’t think things will ever change.” 

Buck is in his late 20s and wears a black hat with the word “BOSS” on it. His cheerful smirk reveals a gold grill and the sense that he and Remix have had this debate before. 

“Yeah, it’s no different where you go. Black people have been through a lot of shit. But Kenosha won’t ever be the same after this. Look at 22nd Street. It’s gone,” says Buck. “All I gotta say is that no matter what happened, Jake didn’t need to be shot. Seven times. In the back. It’s wrong.” 

But Buck has little hope that officer Rusten Sheskey will face any consequences. 

“I think he’ll get away with it. Yeah I do,” he says.

On that, he and Remix agree. 

An indictment and conviction of Sheskey — on unspecified criminal charges — is precisely what Blake’s family is seeking. Justin Blake, alongside the Rev. Jesse Jackson and Wisconsin Congresswoman Gwen Moore, tells the media crowded around them that “they aren’t leaving Kenosha until we get justice” for Jacob Blake. 

“Which means we get an indictment and a conviction of the man who shot him seven times in the back,” says Justin Blake, an uncle of Jacob. “Conversations that African American families have to have with their loved ones before they walk out the door tell you it isn’t just a rogue cop. It’s systemic racism that we are talking about.” 

The Kenosha police union put out an Aug. 28 statement alleging that preliminary information released by the Wisconsin Department of Justice's Division of Criminal Investigation, which is investigating the police shooting, is "riddled with incomplete information." The union charges that Blake “forcefully fought” police during an attempted arrest and that he was tased, but did not comply. Justin Blake says the union’s accusation that his nephew was armed with a knife is not true. 

“Our nephew was shot seven times in the back. Nothing can justify that. He had no weapon and he is paralyzed right now in the hospital,” says Justin Blake. “We are not going to let anyone smudge my nephew's name. He’s like any young Black man in society today. He’s had challenges. He’s dealt with them.... It’s not a matter of compliance.” 

In the days after Blake was shot, Kenosha, a small Wisconsin city along Lake Michigan, saw nonstop peaceful protests and marches, riots, men with guns, and the death of two protesters at the hands of a 17-year-old from Illinois with an affinity for assault-style weapons. 

Justin Blake says the Blake family, during a march at the nation’s Capitol on Aug. 30, met other families who had loved ones killed by the police. 

“We met a lot of families in Washington, D.C., that did what the officer said and their loved one still didn’t make it home,” says Blake. “The jig is up…. We have to change our justice system and it starts now.” 

After the short press conference, the block party truly gets going and a DJ starts expertly scratching records. The event includes a voter registration drive, tables staffed by community groups, bounce houses for the kids, and local barbers giving free haircuts — there’s even COVID-19 testing. 

The smell of barbecue draws a crowd of onlookers to where ribs, hamburgers and other meats are being grilled and smoked. A member of the foreign press with an Australian accent asks this reporter, “So what exactly is a brat?” 

Alana Carmichael, a Kenosha high school junior, is pitching in by handing out food and water. 

“I think it’s positive to have a community event like this in the spotlight — instead of just focusing on whatever Trump is saying. In time, I do think things will get better,” says Carmichael. “But right now, there are all these outside sources of stress. People coming in that aren’t from here. All these cameras...reporters like you asking questions.” 

Porche Bennett also grew up in Kenosha. She says the police shooting has sparked community organizing in Kenosha and inspired her personally to become more active politically. She is a leader in the group Black Lives Activists of Kenosha or BLAK, which was started three days after Blake was shot. 

“What people are still struggling to pick up on is the truth: There is nothing new about what happened here,” says Bennett. “The cop just got caught this time.” 

Bennett says Kenosha was better, for everyone, when it was still a hub for the automobile industry, which, at its peak, employed 14,000 people in the city. Starting in the late 1980s, high-paying jobs at assembly plants for American Motors Company, Renault and Chrysler started to vanish. In the Great Recession of 2009, Chrysler announced the closure of Kenosha Engine and with it the last 800 jobs in the city’s auto manufacturing business.

“These major companies used to provide for the people. It allowed people to be successful,” says Bennett. “We are committed to creating opportunities like that again for our community…. We are going to make sure Kenosha gets better and stays better.” 

Raven Epps is giving free Reiki treatments at the gathering. She moved to Kenosha when she was 10 and says the city still offers a lot of opportunity. But as in many places in Wisconsin and across the nation, people of color are too often excluded. 

“It’s a mixed bag. The racial tension that exists here was present long before Jacob Blake. If you drive around Kenosha, it becomes clear. It’s a very segregated city and that shows up in everything,” says Epps. “There’s still a lot of denial of people’s everyday reality. People do seem more aware now, finally. I feel like we’ve gotten in the car. Maybe we aren’t quite on the road yet or making our way.” 

A little farther down the block, a group has gathered to listen to a speech from Stevante Clark. He met the Blake family in Washington the previous weekend and was in Kenosha “to show his solidarity.” His brother was shot and killed by Sacramento police in another controversial shooting in 2018 that brought protesters to the streets. 

“My brother was shot 20 times in my grandmother’s backyard in a matter of 22.3 seconds…. All shots hit him in his back, perforating his lungs, lacerating his heart, breaking his spine, fracturing his rib. Each shot possessed a fatal capacity,” Clark tells the crowd. “My brother’s killers, to this day, work the streets of Sacramento, California. The chief of police of Sacramento is a Black chief. So don’t think just because we skin-folk, we’re kinfolk.” 

Stephon Clark’s death at the hands of the police did prompt change in California. In 2019, Gov. Gavin Newsom signed legislation — known as Stephon Clark’s Law — that imposed the nation’s toughest standards for the use of deadly force by law enforcement. But Stevante Clark says that achievement “is not enough.” 

“I want my brother back honestly,” says Clark. “Jake [Blake], even though he’s still with us, he is Stephon Clark. He is Eric Garner. He’s Trayvon Martin. Breonna Taylor. He’s just a living prophet. A living, breathing prophet they tried to kill in front of his children.” 

Justin Blake says the family was “doing its own thing” while Trump was in Kenosha. The president did not ask to meet with the family during his visit and Blake tells reporters, “We don’t have any words for the orange man.

“All I ask is that he keeps his disrespect, his foul language far away from our family. We need a president that’s going to unite our country and take us in different directions,” says Blake at the block party. “It’s a free country. [Trump] can go anywhere he wants. We want the same rights he’s got. We want to be able to get our children home safely because they should be able to go anywhere in this nation and come back home safe. And not get shot seven times.” 

After seeing the remains of B&L Office Furniture, which was destroyed by rioters during the nights of unrest, Trump addresses supporters at Bradley High School. He stuck to a law and order message, telling the crowd that Kenosha has been “ravaged by anti-police and anti-American riots,” which he likened to domestic terrorism. The president didn’t utter Jacob Blake’s name once. 

"I really came today to thank law enforcement,” says Trump, who grew agitated when asked by a reporter about this summer’s nationwide protests over systemic racism. “Well, you know you just keep getting back to the opposite subject. We should talk about the kind of violence we've seen in Portland and here and other places.”

Evidence of the destruction in Kenosha remains. One car dealership destroyed by protesters in the early hours of Aug. 24 is largely untouched even more than a week after dozens of cars on the lot were torched. A steady parade of onlookers and reporters check out the eerie, twisted heaps of metal. Signs on the business read, “Where is our justice?” and “What did our community [do] to deserve this?” 

Justin Blake also addressed the destruction in Kenosha. 

“We understand you’re angry and upset. We can see why you’d want to burn something down but we’re asking you not to,” says Blake. “That fist that you put up in anger, we are asking that you put up high in unity.”

Nearby, the park outside the Kenosha County Courthouse is alive with chants and competing speakers. There are Black Lives Matter protesters young and old. Trump supporters are wearing MAGA hats and are clad in red, white and blue. The crowd is surrounded by civilians armed with handguns holstered to their hips on one side and throngs of media on the other. The courthouse is surrounded by a tall fence and National Guard troops look on from a distance. A street preacher blares into a megaphone.

“White lives matter. Black lives matter,” shouts the preacher. “But it’s Jesus’ life that really mattered.” 

After fires and looting in the city’s Uptown neighborhood in the nights after Blake’s shooting, armed civilians flooded into Kenosha — including 17-year-old Kyle Rittenhouse from Illinois on Aug. 25. Late that night, the teenager allegedly shot two protesters and injured a third with an AR-15-style weapon, and was arrested at his Antioch home the next day. He faces charges of first-degree intentional homicide, first-degree reckless homicide, two counts of first-degree recklessly endangering safety, attempted first-degree intentional homicide, and possession of a dangerous weapon by a person under 18. 

Today, Matthew Jorgensen and Wayne Sorensen stand on top of a concrete barricade above the crowd holding a Trump banner. Both men, currently from Racine but with “roots in Kenosha,” showed up with guns the night Rittenhouse allegedly shot protesters. Jorgensen says they were there to “protect people’s businesses and make sure people didn’t get hurt.” 

“We were there to help. We aren’t vigilantes. Kenosha was full of violent agitators. What you got to remember is that we were there not only to protect civilians but to protect protesters’ messages,” says Jorgensen. “Because nobody cares about what they have to say when a city is being destroyed. It doesn’t matter the message.”

Sorensen says that if he had a 17-year-old son, he would have let him patrol Kenosha streets, while armed, during the nights of unrest — as long as “he was properly trained.” 

“If he knows how to use a gun safely and he volunteered, yeah, send him. Civilians were needed here to protect people because the police had already let the city burn down. The cops stood behind a fence and did nothing,” says Sorensen. “Even though he wasn’t wanted, it’s good Trump came here to show his support for law enforcement. This shit has got to end or it will spread. You think COVID-19 is bad. This is worse.” 

He also defended the actions of Kenosha police against Blake.

“There’s a saying: Comply with the police and you don’t die,” says Sorensen. “You gotta be missing a few screws to have guns pointed at you and jump into a car with children in it.” 

Leditices Cash sits on a utility box quietly taking in Trump supporters having verbal dustups with Black Lives Matter protesters. He believes the destruction in Kenosha was caused by “justice being denied.” 

“When you shoot somebody seven times and there are never any consequences for the police, what do people expect to happen? You can only push people so far before they snap,” says Cash. “It feels like all the police are on a Black killing spree. Like we are being hunted. For the longest time, that was just accepted as okay. It’s not.” 

Shamell Green has been protesting every day since Blake was shot. Today she hasn’t been afraid to verbally spar with Trump supporters. 

“There are people who actually care about this community here. These Trump people don’t care about Black people,” says Green. “They just want their 10 seconds of fame. We’re going to give it to him and they are going to hear what we actually have to say. But they will go home and we’ll still be here fighting for justice.” 

After Trump leaves Kenosha, the crowds thins outside the Kenosha County Courthouse. A few dozen Black Lives Matter protesters remain after the 7 p.m. citywide curfew but police stay clear of the area. The streets are relatively quiet and free of traffic, but for the car whose driver is blaring the rap song "FDT (Fuck Donald Trump)" by YG & Nipsey Hussle. He pulls over and asks if I’m okay. “Be safe out there,” he says, before driving off. 

As I walk to my car by buildings destroyed by fires on 60th street, a Kenosha police squad drives toward me. Without stopping, the officer rolls down his windows and yells, “Go home.” So I do.