Two weeks after Emantic Bradford Jr was killed in an officer-involved shooting at a mall, his family spoke of the ways race factors into how police engage with people

‘If he had been white they wouldn’t have shot him’

‘If he had been white they wouldn’t have shot him’

On Thanksgiving, April Pipkins’ phone died. The mother of three didn’t bother to charge it. If her oldest son didn’t come home, he would probably be at his father’s house.

EJ Bradford was shot three times from behind by officer, autopsy reveals Read more

The next day, she woke up to missed calls.

Surprised to see her son’s best friend’s name before the sun was up, Pipkins figured he was looking for EJ – Emantic Fitzgerald Bradford Jr – to hear about the shooting that happened at the mall. She called him back.

“Hey, baby, you called me,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “How you doing, ma?” He asked how she was feeling again, she said. That was when she knew something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“He said: ‘Ma, you don’t know? EJ’s dead.’ And that is the part that drives me crazy. Because it plays back over and over again. All I can hear is: ‘EJ’s dead.’”

Bradford Jr was 21. He died in an officer-involved shooting at an upscale suburban mall. Initially, Hoover police identified Bradford as the suspect in an incident which left two people with gunshot wounds. Then they took back that story. A week after the shooting, a suspect was arrested in Georgia. Police have not made clear if Bradford Jr was a bystander or was involved in the shooting.

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In statements released early on the morning after Thanksgiving, Hoover police said Bradford Jr died just before 10pm. His mother found out hours later, and not from the police. She called everyone: police, the coroner, her friends.

“Even the coroner asked me: ‘No one called you?’ He was shocked.”

Bradford Jr’s father, Emantic Bradford Sr, found out at 3.43am. He remembers the time clearly. In multiple calls to the police he was transferred around the county before finally reaching a detective on the scene. He told the retired Birmingham jail employee his son was dead.

Bradford Sr hasn’t been able to sleep. When his eyes close, he hears his son calling. It shocks him awake.

“I’ve woken up so many days, hearing myself calling him, ‘EJ, EJ, EJ’, but he’s not here anymore,” the 53-year-old said.

Two weeks on from the shooting, as Bradford Sr’s wife, Cynthia Bradford, joins her husband to tell stories of his son, Pipkins cries, unable to join in. They speak of their son only in the present tense.

Ten minutes later, Pipkins manages to tell her favorite story. It happened when he was six months old. Her mother was watching the newborn. Pipkins had gone to work, but Bradford Jr wouldn’t stop crying, so her mother brought him to Pipkins’ workplace. As soon he was next to her, he stopped.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Emantic Bradford Sr, EJ Bradford Jr’s father, speaks at a news conference in Birmingham, Alabama on 3 December. Photograph: Jay Reeves/AP

She grins as she tells the story, Bradford Sr laughs, and for a brief moment the tears are forgotten. Pipkins’ eyes flit to a picture she brought with her, an 8x10 portrait of Bradford Jr in his army uniform. Her smile drops. Staring at her phone, she scrolls through text messages exchanged with her son.

“I was having a bad day, 1 November, and he texted me: ‘Have a wonderful day at work, I love you. Don’t let anyone ruin your day or corrupt your spirit because you’re better than that.’”

She holds the phone up. Her son ended the message with a red heart.

“That’s the kind of person he was,” she says. “He would be on the phone all morning.”

He can’t do that anymore, Bradford Sr jumps in, raising his voice, putting his camel-colored fedora behind him on the chair. The smiles have disappeared.

“That body [camera] is going to show exactly who murdered my son,” he says.

Police body camera footage and mall CCTV footage is now in the hands of the Alabama Law Enforcement Agency. The family has yet to see such video.

“It was a homicide,” Bradford Sr insists. “The attention ain’t going to die down until [they] release the video.”

‘One person pulled that trigger’

The conversation turns into a debate about the ways police around the US engage white and black people.

“It’s a lack of respect for all people, this shooting,” Pipkins begins.

Bradford Sr interjects: “If he had been white they wouldn’t have shot him.”

Pipkins agrees.

“So that is not a lack of training,” Bradford Sr adds. “That is a lack of respect for every human life. You just want to shoot somebody.”

No, Pipkins says. “Not just anybody. They know exactly who they want to shoot because there have been many, I repeat, taken into custody who they were more patient with. They know the procedure.”

Nothing like this has happened in their community before, Bradford Sr says, adding of his other children: “I’m just going to tell them to be themselves. Because one person pulled that trigger. One. And it’s not right. He’s the bad apple in the barrel. And that apples needs to be removed. He needs to be charged.”

This week, through their attorney, the Bradford family released the results of an independent autopsy. It said Bradford Jr was shot in the back and died from a gunshot wound in the head.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Emantic Bradford Sr: ‘It’s a lack of respect for all people, this shooting.’ Photograph: Khushbu Shah/The Guardian

His father says the police officer involved is a coward.

“I look at the autopsy and then I look at my son moving away, who was shot in the back. Not just once. Three times. He’s a coward.”

His mother adds: “If I have to protest and march by myself, they are going to release the tapes.”

Then a woman who has been standing behind her for a few minutes interrupts the conversation.

“I actually just prayed for y’all this morning,” she says. “I wanted to tell you the community is standing behind you. We love you. God bless you, we love you.”

She hugs Pipkins and both Bradfords, then walks away. This has been happening for two weeks since Bradford Jr’s death, his father says, wherever he goes. Pipkins says Home Depot, where she works the late shift, has given her time off.

“But he’s never going to walk through my door again. How would you feel if that were your child?” she says, as she looks through pictures of her son. He didn’t get to have Thanksgiving dinner, she says, as she looks at a selfie of the two of them at a football game. Then she stops at a picture of him goofing off in front of the bathroom mirror.

“That was my baby. He was so silly.” She laughs, watching a video of him dressed in a blue sweatshirt and white basketball shorts, dancing in the hospital, trying to cheer up a friend. “He couldn’t dance a lick.”

Bradford Jr planned to spend Thanksgiving weekend with his father, hanging out in their man cave. He didn’t make it.

“I don’t really care about Thanksgiving no more,” Bradford Sr says. He won’t be celebrating it again.

“Each day won’t be the same,” his mother says, looking over at her son’s father. “No day will be the same.”

“No day,” he repeats.