News (Media Awareness Project) - US NC: Column: Bullet Shatters Two Lives |
Title: | US NC: Column: Bullet Shatters Two Lives |
Published On: | 2004-10-09 |
Source: | News & Observer (NC) |
Fetched On: | 2008-08-21 20:47:28 |
BULLET SHATTERS TWO LIVES
Five men were hanging out in the yard of the house at 314 Carver St.
when drug officers from the Raleigh Police Department hit them like a
bolt of blue lightning.
Four of the men did as the officers ordered. They immediately dropped
to the ground and spread their arms and legs. They knew the drill. One
man did not follow orders. The police report said he turned his back
and put his left hand in his pocket. He turned back around and took a
step toward them, the officers said, ignoring more orders to stop.
Then he began to pull his hand from his pocket.
His name was Ivan Ingram. One member of the raid team that night in
November 1991 was police officer Vincent K. Kerr, part of a SWAT team
called the Selective Enforcement Unit. Kerr was armed with a shotgun
and was the team's designated shooter. It was his job to protect his
fellow officers during the drug raid. It was dark and drizzling rain.
There was chaos all around. And a man was moving toward Kerr and his
fellow officers in what they said was a threatening manner.
In far less time than it takes to read this sentence, Kerr had to
decide what to do.
Gun or no gun? Shoot or don't shoot? Live or die? Ingram died that
night, cut down by a blast from Kerr's 12-gauge shotgun. Earlier this
week, on a routine Tuesday night in a suburban Knightdale home,
Vincent Kerr met his own violent death, shot in the head by his
15-year-old son, who then took his own life.
It turned out that Ingram did not have a gun that night. He did not
have any drugs either, just a loose $20 bill in his pocket. There were
no drugs in his blood. To this day no one knows why he did not obey
the officers' instructions to stop.
The tragic shooting created tension in Raleigh. There were organized
protests and accusations of police brutality. Ambitious local
politicians rode the unhappy situation like a rented mule.
In the end, Kerr was cleared of all charges by both a grand jury and
an internal police department investigation. The lawsuits filed by
Ingram's grieving family fell by the wayside.
Although every investigation exonerated him, Kerr was never the same.
He remained with the police department until 1995 when he injured his
knee on the job. He left the department with a medical disability. His
fellow officers said Kerr was a good cop. Ironically, just the year
before the Ingram shooting, he had been praised by his superiors for
holding his fire when he could justifiably have shot a suspect. He was
not, as some in the community portrayed him, a reckless gunslinger.
His fellow officers trusted him implicitly. That's why they assigned
him to protect them that night. Kerr never talked about what happened
on Carver Street. A few years ago, I ran into him in Raleigh. I asked
him again if he wanted to talk about that night and his life since the
shooting.
He thanked me for standing up for him at the time of the Ingram
shooting but said it would be better for everyone just to let it drop.
"I thought he had a gun," was all he would say. Then he shook his head
and walked away.
I don't think I've ever seen such a big man look so
sad.
Five men were hanging out in the yard of the house at 314 Carver St.
when drug officers from the Raleigh Police Department hit them like a
bolt of blue lightning.
Four of the men did as the officers ordered. They immediately dropped
to the ground and spread their arms and legs. They knew the drill. One
man did not follow orders. The police report said he turned his back
and put his left hand in his pocket. He turned back around and took a
step toward them, the officers said, ignoring more orders to stop.
Then he began to pull his hand from his pocket.
His name was Ivan Ingram. One member of the raid team that night in
November 1991 was police officer Vincent K. Kerr, part of a SWAT team
called the Selective Enforcement Unit. Kerr was armed with a shotgun
and was the team's designated shooter. It was his job to protect his
fellow officers during the drug raid. It was dark and drizzling rain.
There was chaos all around. And a man was moving toward Kerr and his
fellow officers in what they said was a threatening manner.
In far less time than it takes to read this sentence, Kerr had to
decide what to do.
Gun or no gun? Shoot or don't shoot? Live or die? Ingram died that
night, cut down by a blast from Kerr's 12-gauge shotgun. Earlier this
week, on a routine Tuesday night in a suburban Knightdale home,
Vincent Kerr met his own violent death, shot in the head by his
15-year-old son, who then took his own life.
It turned out that Ingram did not have a gun that night. He did not
have any drugs either, just a loose $20 bill in his pocket. There were
no drugs in his blood. To this day no one knows why he did not obey
the officers' instructions to stop.
The tragic shooting created tension in Raleigh. There were organized
protests and accusations of police brutality. Ambitious local
politicians rode the unhappy situation like a rented mule.
In the end, Kerr was cleared of all charges by both a grand jury and
an internal police department investigation. The lawsuits filed by
Ingram's grieving family fell by the wayside.
Although every investigation exonerated him, Kerr was never the same.
He remained with the police department until 1995 when he injured his
knee on the job. He left the department with a medical disability. His
fellow officers said Kerr was a good cop. Ironically, just the year
before the Ingram shooting, he had been praised by his superiors for
holding his fire when he could justifiably have shot a suspect. He was
not, as some in the community portrayed him, a reckless gunslinger.
His fellow officers trusted him implicitly. That's why they assigned
him to protect them that night. Kerr never talked about what happened
on Carver Street. A few years ago, I ran into him in Raleigh. I asked
him again if he wanted to talk about that night and his life since the
shooting.
He thanked me for standing up for him at the time of the Ingram
shooting but said it would be better for everyone just to let it drop.
"I thought he had a gun," was all he would say. Then he shook his head
and walked away.
I don't think I've ever seen such a big man look so
sad.
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