Tony Robinson, 10 years gone

Reflections on how the fatal police shooting of an unarmed, Black teenager changed Madison

by

On one unusually cold March night, 10 years ago, emergency calls reported a young Black man acting erratically, jumping in and out of traffic on the near east side.

Matt Kenny, the Madison police officer dispatched to the scene, entered a home on Williamson Street looking for the young man. Moments later, Kenny fired seven shots from his handgun, all of the bullets striking 19-year-old Tony Robinson.

Robinson was later pronounced dead at UW Hospital. Toxicology reports would show that he had psychedelic mushrooms, Xanax and marijuana in his system when he died.

Protests soon erupted around the city. And Robinson’s death at the hands of a white police officer would spark difficult — and hyper local — discussions about the treatment of people of color in Madison.

Kenny, who said he was attacked by Robinson, was ultimately cleared of violating professional standards by the Madison Police Department and of criminal wrongdoing by Dane County District Attorney Ismael Ozanne.

Later, Robinson’s family sued the city in federal court alleging that Kenny had violated Robinson’s civil rights “through an act of intentional homicide.”

The lawsuit, brought on behalf of Robinson’s estate by his mother, challenged Kenny’s account of what happened that night, arguing that forensic evidence and dashcam video show Kenny lied about being attacked by Robinson. They argued that video shows Kenny exiting the stairwell during the first string of three shots, proving there was no physical confrontation between the two men. They also argued that because of the trajectory of the bullet wounds, Kenny could not have been in close contact with Robinson when he began shooting.

In 2017, the city’s insurance company settled the lawsuit for a record-setting $3.35 million but maintained that the settlement was not an admission of guilt or misconduct.

Over the years, as the nationwide Black Lives Movement grew, fueled by the police-involved deaths of other unarmed Black citizens, including George Floyd in Minneapolis and Breonna Taylor in Louisville, community organizers and activists continued to push for change in Madison. Among their goals were police reform, the termination of Kenny from the police department, and the development of alternative response options for those suffering a mental health crisis.

On the 10th anniversary of Robinson’s death, Isthmus spoke with Robinson’s grandmother, activists and advocates, and the interim Madison police chief about how the fatal shooting of Robinson has changed Madison.

The activist

Brandi Grayson was on the frontline of protests over Robinson’s death. As head of the Young, Gifted and Black Coalition, she was often the one holding the megaphone.

She says Robinson’s death was “a wake up call” and that the activism that followed showed that people of color “had the strength to push against the system. For the first time here, people were not just being nice about it — we were loud about the need for system change, criminal justice change and to hold our police to account.

“I think it all just revealed the truth that we were a microcosm of the world,” adds Grayson, who in 2019 founded Urban Triage, a nonprofit whose mission is to empower and support Black families. “And we can no longer hide behind the number one place to live in the country because these things don’t happen here. They do happen here and they did happen here,” she says.

One lesson learned, she adds: “We should trust vulnerable populations to know what’s best for them and that they know how to maneuver through crises without having [others] tell them what’s best for them.”

The organizer 

Amelia Royko Maurer has pushed for local law enforcement reform since her friend, Paulie Heenan, was shot and killed by a Madison cop in 2012.

After that, she and others formed the volunteer collective known as the Community Response Team to collect data, facilitate information-sharing between the public and law enforcement officials and improve policing policy in the city. The group added members and gained traction after Robinson’s death. The group helped establish a mental wellness program for Madison police officers and pushed for changes to the department’s use of force policy to stress the need to preserve the lives of people taken into police custody.

It was also one of the groups that advocated for creation of the city of Madison’s Police Civilian Oversight Board and the Office of the Independent Monitor.

The group’s achievements are many “but they come at a huge cost” of those who have been killed by police, says Royko Maurer, adding that the group’s end goal is to reduce the need for law enforcement. “In healthy and safe communities, you just don’t need the police as much.”

The board member

Despite delays and a rocky start, board member Stephanie Rearick says the Madison Police Civilian Oversight Board “gives community members a say in the kind of policing that’s in their community.”

Rearick, a new board member, notes that an online complaint process shepherded by the independent monitor is now available and the oversight board has established three subcommittees on police procedures, community engagement and data analysis.

While the city’s Police and Fire Commission still holds hiring and firing authority over officers, the oversight board will work to implement dozens of recommendations made by an ad hoc committee that include ways to improve community-police relations, avoid use of force and prioritize de-escalation techniques.

Rearick expects the board to make a lot of progress in 2025. “It’s been 10 years” since Robinson was killed, she says. “And this is going to be the year where we are going to see some positive changes institutionalized that are going to make it not happen again.”

The grandmother

Tony Robinson’s family was thrust into the spotlight after his death, and has often been the target of racist and hateful comments online.

Over the years, the strain, stress and pain of Robinson’s death has caused fractures within the family and some members no longer communicate, says Sharon Irwin Henry, Robinson’s grandmother.

Still the family has continued to seek justice for what they maintain was the unjust and unnecessary murder of their loved one, whom they call by his middle name, Terrell.

Most recently, the family petitioned Dane County Circuit Court to appoint a special prosecutor to investigate charges against Kenny. In June 2023, Judge Stephen Ehlke dismissed the petition, stating that he lacked the authority, under Wisconsin law, to appoint a special prosecutor.

And now, a decade after her grandson was killed, Sharon Irwin Henry is taking her effort to have Kenny fired directly to the Madison Police and Fire Commission.

“We’re going to stand before the PFC and present all of our information and evidence as to why we feel like [Kenny] was reckless in his decision to shoot and kill Terrell,” says Irwin Henry.

They plan to file a formal complaint alleging that Kenny disobeyed the police department’s standard operating procedures during the altercation with Robinson. Irwin Henry says they will bring that argument before the PFC by Oct. 18, which would have been Robinson’s 30th birthday.

“It’s been 10 years,” she says. “This evidence needs to be fully out in the open — and then everyone can make up their own mind.”

The pastor

The way the Rev. Dr. Alex Gee remembers it, Madison residents reacted in one of two ways to the death of Tony Robinson: “Black

people weren’t shocked,” he says, while white people were “incredulous” that it could happen in their progressive city.

Gee, pastor of the Fountain of Life Church and founder of the Nehemiah Center for Urban Leadership Development, says Robinson’s death and the launch of the Black Lives Matter movement spurred some positive growth.

“There were individuals and organizations that stepped up and came to the forefront advocating for change. We began to see new leaders emerge,” he says, pointing to people like Brandi Grayson and such groups as Freedom Inc., a social justice and direct service organization, and Focused Interruption, which works to end gun violence.

“And I think we found various audiences and constituencies to be able to hear our perspectives, to think differently about cross-cultural race relations. I think that has helped.”

The police

Ten years ago, John Patterson was a lieutenant in the Madison police department overseeing detectives. Now, he’s the acting chief.

He says that more than 60% of officers in the department have been hired since Robinson’s death but “certainly everyone is familiar with it and is aware of it.”

Robinson’s death and others like it around the country have caused officers to think critically about how they interact with the public in fair and impartial ways.

“If we are truly practitioners of procedural justice, that means allowing people to have a voice and share their perspective on incidents that don’t or that didn’t involve you directly,” he says, adding that the department has tried to “double, triple, quadruple down on our commitment to transparency and trying to forge lasting and meaningful relationships with our community.”

Patterson says the department has increased officer education in the years since Robinson’s death. “We’ve done everything from de-escalation training to crisis intervention training. We really try to stay in front of best practices and maintain what I think is a very unique culture of learning here.”

Kenny, who declined an interview request from Isthmus, remains employed by the department in the training division where he’s worked since the summer of 2015, confirms Patterson, who had no comment on past or potentially new calls for Kenny to be fired. But he acknowledges that for those most closely affected by Robinson’s death, the damage may never be undone.

“For some in our community, we have been able to reestablish relationships and we’ve been able to reestablish trust,” he says. “And I think there are some that, at least in my time, we may not get there.”

The counselor

Traumatic events like the police-involved deaths that sparked the BLM movement, where protests and public debate keep people talking about them, can have lasting effects on mental health, says psychotherapist Myra McNair, who owns Anesis Therapy, a clinic devoted to serving people of color in Dane County.

“I tell people that you heal as much as you can, but when there’s still harm that continually happens, you get to a point where you can’t heal anymore,” she says, adding that race-related harm compounds because of its frequency. “It’s a huge systemic issue that people face every single day while doing ordinary things like job searching, looking for housing, and shopping.”

For some, taking part in the protests or advocacy after a public, traumatic event like Robinson’s death may help.

“There are some pieces to it that can be very healing — it’s very empowering coming together as a community and making your voice heard and letting people know we matter, our bodies matter, and how we’re treated matters,” she continues.

McNair adds that steps toward accountability and advocacy can help a community and its members heal. But, she adds, “When there’s no progress and there’s no change, time doesn’t do a whole lot.” 

Several events are taking place on March 6 to mark the 10th anniversary of Tony Robinson’s death. They include open mic events at Cafe Coda, 4 p.m. and Dank of America, 7-9 p.m.; a candlelight vigil at 1125 Williamson St., 6:15 p.m.; a screening of the documentary 19, The Tony Robinson Shooting, A Case of Deadly Bias, at Aubergine, 4 p.m.; and an art and photo exhibit at the Social Justice Center, 4-8 p.m.