In Baltimore, despite witnessing turmoil from a distance, Ray Kelly’s instincts drove him to act when he saw high school students confronting the police. However, in the end, all he could do was watch helplessly as his neighborhood descended into chaos.
The stir erupted following Freddie Gray’s demise due to spinal injuries incurred while being transported in a police van in April 2015. Protesters hit the streets of predominantly Black west Baltimore, torching police vehicles and looting shops. Their dissent reflected the compounded oppression endured by Black Americans, who struggled with discriminatory housing policies, crumbling schools, restricted job prospects, prevalent gun violence, and poor living conditions.
Kelly, a community activist from Gray’s area, had long advocated for police accountability. When federal authorities launched an investigation into the Baltimore Police Department and local prosecutors proceeded with charging the involved officers, Kelly intensified his calls for improved oversight amidst growing national outcry against police brutality.
A decade later, Kelly’s continued efforts underscore Baltimore’s simultaneous strides and stagnation. On a positive note, Kelly acknowledges the establishment of more platforms to address police misconduct and hold officers accountable. The once rampant homicides and shootings are now seeing a declining trend. Although west Baltimore still struggles with widespread poverty and neglect, Kelly says it’s gaining more attention from elected officials.
“There’s a need to listen to us now because organizing and amplifying our voices became possible,” Kelly stated. “Freddie Gray’s death set that in motion.”
Yet, the pace of progress remains excruciatingly slow and inadequate, compounded by the Trump administration’s intensifying assaults on civil rights and diversity initiatives, unveiling new obstacles.
For Gray’s family, their private sorrow unraveled on national stages now a decade old. On Saturday morning, accompanied by the mayor and other officials, his twin sister Fredricka laid a wreath at the site of his arrest, reflecting on the anniversary of his death in the hospital. “It’s still justice for Freddie Gray,” she reaffirmed, resonating the 2015 rallying call. “Ten years now.”
Approaching reform inch by inch, Baltimore’s history is marred with injustice towards its Black residents, evident since 1910 when the country’s pioneering residential segregation ordinance restricted African Americans to designated blocks.
Kelly’s upbringing during the 1980s crack cocaine epidemic saw police carrying out mass arrests as part of the war on drugs in west Baltimore. His high school years were lost to drug dealing for sustenance amid the relentless struggle posed by police. Following periods of addiction and imprisonment, Kelly returned in the early 2000s, channeling his efforts through a neighborhood advocacy group to enhance public safety. When the U.S. Department of Justice commenced its city police investigation, Kelly used his unique position to encourage wary residents to participate, bridging connections with federal investigators.
“It was a gamble,” he confessed. “What this community doesn’t typically do.”
The risk was justified. The inquiry unpacked persistent patterns of excessive force, unwarranted arrests, and discriminatory policing, primarily against Black people. These revelations led to a 2017 consent decree requiring an overhaul in police policies and training.
Since then, change is gradually unfolding. Recently, the department celebrated when a federal judge terminated two sections of the consent decree after achieving full compliance—including the regulations surrounding the transport of detainees in police vehicles. Officers had ignored Gray’s pleas for medical help while handcuffed, shackled, and unrestrained in the van.
While department leaders suggest significant transformations, progress occurs gradually. Officers have boosted foot patrols, reduced minor arrests, and undergone emotional regulation training, showing less inclination toward using force when detaining individuals. Their collaboration with service providers to address gun violence root causes has also significantly contributed to reducing homicides.
“Over my career span, I’ve witnessed a shift in police culture from ‘warriors to guardians’,” stated Police Commissioner Richard Worley.
However, distrust towards the police still permeates among Baltimore residents, doubting a profound cultural shift within the department. “It’s going to take years and years to redefine the police department in the community’s eyes,” remarked U.S. District Judge James Bredar during the consent decree hearing.
Gray was arrested near his home in Sandtown-Winchester, a west Baltimore neighborhood that had historically thrived but declined precipitously. In its prime, nearby Pennsylvania Avenue was an epicenter of Black entertainment with well-known jazz clubs, upmarket stores, and vibrant nightlife.
The neighborhood holds significant historical figures and sites, like Thurgood Marshall’s childhood home and a statue of jazz icon Billie Holiday, who also hailed from west Baltimore. A mix of factors, including urban flight and persistent neglect, paved its downfall. Businesses vacated following the 1968 unrest spurred by Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination, leading to open-air drug markets entrance. Complaints of systematic over-policing grew among residents.
Gray’s violent arrest stirred an already simmering resentment, igniting protests quelled by deploying the Maryland National Guard and imposing a citywide curfew in 2015. Following criminal charges against the six officers involved—though without convictions—political figures pledged investments in housing, youth programs, and more, yet those promises remained largely unfulfilled.
“It’s still the same damn place with the same issues,” Kelly lamented, standing outside the former church rectory housing his Citizens Policing Project advocacy group. “After so much talk, this is what remains.”
The city shut down the neighborhood recreation center in 2021, leaving Sandtown’s youth with limited avenues for positive engagement, reminisced 17-year-old Ryeheen Watson, whose childhood traced Gray’s death shadow. “Nothing ever improves for us, but when starting from zero, the only trajectory is upward,” he said.
The Trump administration poses new challenges for communities like Sandtown by chipping away at federal initiatives aimed at achieving racial equity, Baltimore attorney Billy Murphy, who represented the Gray family, highlighted. “Even amid Black people’s resilience to shape our future, a white supremacy resurgence taints national politics,” he expressed at a tribute to Gray.
However, on a local level, political discourse has commenced including more progressive Black voices, noted Dayvon Love of Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, recalling Gray’s death as a crucial juncture allowing unabashed advocacy for Black communities.
Mayor Brandon Scott’s administration is reportedly making strides in neglected areas with plans to renovate Sandtown’s recreation center and refurbish Gilmor Homes, where Gray faced arrest.
“The work’s unfinished, so we can’t take a victory lap just yet,” Scott stated.
Reflecting on all the political discourse, Kelly believes the core point gets overlooked. The principal focus should be on Gray, the young man whose life ended tragically after a police encounter ten years ago. Instead of commemorating his death’s anniversary, Kelly suggests his birth date, August 16, 1989, should become a day of remembrance.