Cries for help are ‘coming from everywhere’

Second of a two-part story, part one below.

---

If you call a Minnesota NAACP branch you will probably speak with Patrica James. Though she answers the phone for the St. Paul branch, only about a third of the roughly 100 calls the office receives each month are from St. Paul residents. 

“It’s coming from everywhere,” she says of the calls. “Sioux Falls, Red Falls, Rochester, Mankato, Duluth,” and some cities James has never heard of. “I have a map where I mark it.”

She hears the caller’s relief that someone is listening, and it’s not uncommon for callers to cry. “People are crying out for help, and I want to make sure that we address these complaints,” James says.

On James’ desk are numerous brightly colored Post-It Notes derived from calls. She distributes the messages to the appropriate NAACP chair member. If your call is not returned, “I will call them to make sure that you are connected, and you get heard.”

Before James, Yusef Mgeni and other St. Paul NAACP members would answer voicemails. The concerns range from complaints against law enforcement to child protection services. Education concerns include K-12 and post-secondary systems. In health care, “Black women working within health care, they are feeling discrimination,” says James.

She keeps her composure, staying professional as she records information, but admits, “Some of these calls and the things that you hear, it touches my heart.” 

Pastor Richard Pittman Sr., current president of the St. Paul NAACP, wanted an office presence, so besides answering calls, James accepts walk-in visits. Among the many complaints she’s heard, here are two examples from Mankato and Belle Plaine.

Racism in Mankato

Roger Wesley was a caller who moved from the Twin Cities because there were few job opportunities. He moved to Mankato, completed his GED, and found two jobs. “I was doing well for myself for a while,” he says. 

One day a few hours before he had to work, he went to the hospital because of pain from what he believed was a hernia. After a long wait, he received no treatment. 

“I got up and I just said, ‘Forget it,’” he says. “I raised hell a little bit, you know, I cussed and fussed a little bit.” He continued complaining to his wife while they were in the parking lot.

A couple of days later he received a letter in the mail stating that he was charged with a terroristic threat. “I was disorderly because I was in excruciating pain,” he explains. “I couldn’t get medical assistance.”

According to Sec. 609.713 Subd. 2, a person who makes a terroristic threat “communicates to another with purpose to terrorize another…that explosives or an explosive device or any incendiary device is present at a named place or location.” 

A woman in the parking lot said he had threatened to blow something up, he was later told. “I didn’t say anything to anybody like that,” he says. “And I wasn’t even in the facility.”

Wesley had to appear in court for the charges and was assigned a public defender. “I’m asking him can [he] at least get them to drop it to a disorderly conduct, because that’s exactly what it was.” 

His public defender told him he could face jail time if he didn’t plead guilty to the charge. Wesley was ending an existing probation and didn’t want to add more probation time. He had recently avoided jail time and probation for a previous offense — voting.

“I was about to be released from probation, but [my parole officer] said, ‘You voted, and you’re on probation.” I did not know I was not eligible to vote.”

As of Sept. 20, 2024, in the state of Minnesota, a criminal record does not prevent any person from voting unless they’re incarcerated. That was not the case for Wesley. 

“I had to drop out of school because I didn’t know if I was going to have to go to jail.” The judge dismissed the case. However, with a family and small children, a low-paying job means working more hours to pay the bills. 

After pleading guilty to the terrorist threat charge, Wesley is again on probation, which includes community service. 

“Since I’ve been here, that’s all they’ve been doing is trying to keep me on probation. … This is their racist tactics, the intimidating tactics they use toward people of color like me.”

Racism in Belle Plaine

Just south of Shakopee is the city of Belle Plaine. Its population is approximately 7,000. There are 30 police officers and they are in the process of building a second police station. 

Thirty years ago, Samuel Erickson moved to the city as a teen. He says racist incidents have been par for the course the whole time he’s lived there. 

There are just a few Hispanics and even fewer Blacks. Until early this year, most of the racism he witnessed came from police and council members. 

“Don’t get it twisted; it’s a small corn-fed town,” says Erickson. “But the citizens of the city, most of them are nice and friendly and open-armed.”

City officials are not open to subsidized housing though it would benefit their constituents. “They don’t want that element in their town because it’s going to bring all the minorities,” says Erickson. “They are going to come in with their drugs and their problems. This is what’s being argued at city council meetings.”

Erickson, part Native American with tattoos on his face, says he is partly protected because it’s hard for people to determine his ethnicity. People of color and openly GLBTQ community members are subjected to blatant discrimination. 

What happened in February prompted Erickson to call the NAACP: “A gay Black kid was beaten, left for dead in the streets,” says Erickson. “It took the cops three days to open an investigation.”

The victim is a young man who lives in Belle Plaine. He was assaulted by a white young man who also lives in the city.

“He laid there for hours after the bars closed,” explains Erickson. “The cops are always up there, so there is no reason why the cops didn’t see him lying there. We have video of a white dude from town getting in his truck and driving around this kid’s body, lying in the street bleeding from his ears.”

The young man who was arrested is now serving 14 years for a hate crime. Erickson says members of the police department are now patrolling the city. “I think the city realized that they almost had a Black death on their hands, and they were about to get sued.” 

The young man’s life has now been permanently changed. “He’s a horse trainer. He can’t go to work anymore because of the brain damage,” says Erickson.

Asked why he remains in the city after witnessing the racism, Erickson says, “I’m not moving for nobody. I’ve been telling Black people if you want to shake up a community, move to Belle Plaine. The next time something like this happens — and it’s going to — I would like to see 10,000 people standing up for [people of color in] their community.”

Vickie Evans-Nash welcomes reader responses to vnash@spokesman-recorder.com.