The father of a young football player shot by police last week has said investigators are withholding information about how his son died.



“They won’t even talk to me, man,” Adrian Taylor said, adding that he had only learned the details of his 19-year-old son Christian’s death through a series of leaked video and audio clips, some apparently gathered and released by the hacking collective Anonymous.

Local activists, meanwhile, plan a protest for Tuesday night. The killing of Christian Taylor, a young, unarmed black man shot by a white police officer, echoes events one year ago in Ferguson, Missouri, where protests marking the anniversary of Michael Brown’s death turned violent on Sunday night, with one man shot and left critically injured.

“Police taking black lives as easy as flipping a coin, with no consequences,” Christian Taylor wrote on Twitter in December. Less than two weeks ago, he posted: “I don’t wanna die too younggggg.”

At his home on Sunday, Adrian Taylor criticized the way police in Arlington, Texas, in his view, closed ranks against inquiries. “I’m having to find out about how CJ died on social media,” he said, using his youngest son’s nickname.

At a press conference on Saturday night, Arlington police chief Will Johnson said he had invited the FBI to participate in the investigation, which he said would be transparent but “at times frustratingly slow”. In the days since, information has started to swirl online; some has come from the security company hired to monitor the car dealership where Taylor died, some from hackers.

The various video and audio files conflict in timing; in one clip it seems the rookie officer, Brad Miller, shot Taylor within a second or two of spotting him. In another, minutes elapse between the first sighting and the shots.

Altogether, though, the accounts are consistent on what happened in the minutes before Taylor’s death. About 1am on Friday, he arrived at Classic Buick GMC car dealership, one of a string of dealerships along Interstate 20 in Arlington, a western suburb of Dallas.

Taylor, who was 5-foot-9 and 165lbs, pulled up to the dealership in his own car, exited it, and behaved erratically, vandalizing and jumping on several of the dealership’s cars. He stomped the windshield of one car until it shattered, and, wearing sunglasses, seemed to gaze around unperturbed as the dealership’s alarms sounded.

He sprinted back and forth between rows of cars, strolled casually, and then climbed into his own car, which he used to push open the dealership’s gate. He drove toward the dealership’s showroom, and apparently crashed his car into the plate glass wall of the showroom.

The details and order of what happened next remain unclear. At some point – apparently before police arrived – Taylor left his car and entered the showroom on foot where he was, according to the police chief, “roaming freely”.

The first police officers to respond to the scene were Miller, a 49-year-old officer in training, and his training officer, a 19-year veteran. Miller had no experience with law enforcement prior to joining the Arlington police, and was finishing a 16-week field training program.

“I just saw a guy in the building that has a hat on, like a straw hat,” one of the officers reported at the scene. Taylor had dyed his hair blond on top.

Some time later – an initial audio recording indicated seconds, but a subsequent clip indicates about two minutes – an officer says into his radio: “Whoa, we got shots fired.”

About four minutes later an officer says: “Notify internal affairs, please.”

Police have not said what led Miller to shoot Taylor four times in the stomach, chest, and neck, and his partner to use a Taser. The officers were not wearing body cameras. When asked for interviews, police spokesman Lt Christopher Cook referred all questions to a YouTube video of Saturday’s press conference. Further questions were not answered.

The recordings appear to be authentic. In one, an officer recites his cellphone number, as he makes his way to the dealership. In the recording it’s unclear whether he is an APD Internal Affairs investigator.

Reached by the number Sunday night, he said, “No. This is not the police department. This is a private number.”

When told about the leaked audio, he said: “OK, I work for the Arlington police and that number was used when I went out there that night, but it shouldn’t have been leaked. And I’m not IA.”

Taylor’s brother Joshua, 23, said the family wanted details of what happened, calling the information from the police “blurry”.

“Until we get concrete facts, we won’t know what happened,” Joshua Taylor told Reuters in a phone interview.

“He was a really good guy. He was family-oriented. He was an A student and had he everything going for him,” Taylor said, adding that his brother had “recently given his life to God”.

A picture of Christian sits on a little table in the Taylor living room. Photograph: Matthew Teague

“He was happy, everything was great. He was trying to touch people’s lives,” Joshua Taylor said.

Sifting through all of it – video, audio, press conferences, responses and lack thereof – Adrian Taylor said he cannot find a reason for his son’s death.

“Maybe he had been drinking, maybe he was on something. I don’t know,” he said. His son’s only previous run-in with the law had come when he was caught once with pills that weren’t prescribed to him. “But you don’t kill somebody for that. You don’t just take a life.”

The teenager was unarmed, so at worst, he said, he might have been trying to steal a car. “But you know what? The insurance check would have been cut next week, the car would have been paid for, and my son would still be alive.”

Taylor’s house is spacious, set in a middle-class neighborhood of tidy lawns and swimming pools. On the landing halfway up the stairs is a veritable shrine to his children: photos of his oldest son, Adrian, middle son, Joshua, and youngest, CJ. He stopped and touched one photo. “Kindergarten,” he said.

Upstairs the walls practically sagged under the weight of shelves of trophies and ribbons and plaques, all testament to the football prowess of the Taylor brothers. One played at Oklahoma University, and then with the Seattle Seahawks. One is an honor student, and plays at the University of Texas at Arlington.

The youngest, CJ, had won a scholarship to play at Angelo State University, and was expected to report on Sunday for his first training as a sophomore.

At one doorway Adrian Taylor paused, breathed deeply, and opened the door. “I come in here sometimes just to smell him, you know?” he said. “Just to feel him.”

CJ made teenager-like mistakes, Adrian said, but he was maturing. He had recently joined a new church. He had added Isaiah 54:17 to his Twitter profile: “No weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed ...”

A football sat in a corner, tossed on top of a water cooler. On a bookshelf several pens sat under a lamp, and underneath, on the floor, a pair of sneakers. “Man, he loves his Jordans,” Adrian Taylor said.

He paused, and corrected himself. “Loved.”

At the Classic Buick GMC dealership, nothing seemed amiss, except a piece of plywood where Taylor had crashed into the glass. Otherwise there were none of the hallmarks of a crime scene: no yellow caution tape, no blood drops, no markers where bullet casings had scattered.

On the next glass plate, there was a sign; a little pistol in a red circle and slash: “No firearms.”