JEFFREY COLLINS
ORTH AUGUSTA, S.C. — Ernest
Satterwhite was a laid-back former mechanic with a habit of ignoring police
officers who tried to pull him over — an act of defiance that ultimately got
him killed.
The 68-year-old black
great-grandfather was shot to death after a slow-speed chase as he parked in
his own driveway, by a 25-year-old white police officer who repeatedly fired
through the driver's side door.
Investigators determined that
North Augusta Public Safety Officer Justin Craven broke the law. A prosecutor,
in a rare action against a police officer, sought to charge him with voluntary
manslaughter, punishable by up to 30 years in prison. But the grand jury
disagreed, indicting him on a misdemeanor.
The debate over how police use
force against unarmed people has become a national issue since an unarmed
18-year-old black man was shot to death in August by a white police officer in
Ferguson, Missouri, where unrest still lingers.
But most police shootings make
only local headlines, and just for a day or two. The refusal of authorities to
release public information about these on-duty actions by taxpayer-paid
officials is a big reason why. As with many such killings, Satterwhite's death
in February remains shrouded in mystery.
Video can make a difference:
South Carolina gained the national spotlight last week after a dashboard camera
showed how in just a few seconds Trooper Sean Groubert went from asking
motorist Levar Jones for his license for a supposed seat belt violation, to
shooting at him repeatedly without provocation, even as Jones put his hands in
the air. Jones was hit once and is recovering.
State Public Safety Director
Leroy Smith called that shooting "disturbing," and Groubert was
promptly fired and charged with felony assault.
Sometimes, the video can
exonerate officers: In August, a South Carolina prosecutor refused to file
criminal charges against a York County deputy who wounded a 70-year-old man
after mistaking his cane for a shotgun during an after-dark traffic stop. Using
video, the sheriff showed how the cane's shaft could be mistaken for a gun
barrel in the dim light.
So far, 35 people were shot by
police in South Carolina this year; 16 were killed. The state is on pace to
surpass last year's total of 42 people shot by police.
In Satterwhite's case,
prosecutors won't say why they sought a felony charge against Craven, who
chased Satterwhite for 9 miles, beyond city limits and into Edgefield County.
Experts say it's the first time
an officer was charged in a fatal shooting in roughly a decade. But the grand
jury opted for "misconduct in office," a charge used for sheriffs who
make inmates do their personal work, or officers who ask for bribes. Their
single-page indictment, returned in August, contains no details other than
accusing Craven of "using excessive force and failing to follow and use
proper procedures."
Black leaders were astonished
that an officially unjustified shooting of an unarmed man should merit such a
light charge.
"It diminishes the nature
of the violation — of the death. This man's life is only worth a
misdemeanor?" said state Rep. Joe Neal, a Democrat who has spent decades
speaking out against racism in law enforcement and demanding accountability
through data and police cameras.
Neal, who is black, also wants
authorities to release evidence more quickly in police-involved shootings.
Authorities often say doing so could taint potential jurors. Neal says that
doesn't give people enough credit.
The State Law Enforcement
Division denied requests filed by The Associated Press under the Freedom of Information
Act to learn what evidence was gathered against Craven. Solicitor Donnie Myers,
who is handling the case, didn't return phone calls. North Augusta Police, the
Edgefield County Sheriff's Office and Craven's lawyer, Jack Swerling, declined
to comment.
The few details released raised
concerns among law enforcement experts. In the likely 10 to 15 minutes he
trailed Satterwhite, Craven should have had time to learn he was headed home
and had no violent incidents on his criminal record, said University of South
Carolina criminology professor Geoffrey Alpert.
Police records show Satterwhite
had been arrested more than a dozen times for traffic violations, most of them
for driving under suspension or under the influence. Most of the charges led to
convictions. He also was charged at least three times for failing to stop as
officers tried to pull him over. But his record shows no evidence he ever
physically fought with an officer.
Edgefield County deputies who
joined in the chase reported that Craven ran up to Satterwhite's parked car and
fired several shots into the driver's side door, telling the other officers
that Satterwhite tried to grab his gun. The other officers couldn't get
Satterwhite's door open, so they broke the passenger side window, unlocked that
door and dragged him out. "Why would he run up to the car like that?"
asked Alpert. "Why would he put himself in a situation to use deadly
force? Why would he put his gun close enough for him to grab it?"
Satterwhite, who worked for
years as a mechanic, liked to fish and was remembered by his family as a
laid-back man who kept to himself, left behind six children, 16 grandchildren
and five great-grandchildren.
Seven months after the funeral,
and eight days after his indictment, Craven was put on administrative leave —
with pay.
Satterwhite's family then sued
the North Augusta Department of Public Safety, Edgefield County and its
sheriff's office.
The lawsuit alleges Craven
ignored the Edgefield deputies' orders to stop and let them manage the chase
when it entered their county, about 2 miles from Satterwhite's home. It claims
Satterwhite never tried to grab the officer's gun when Craven fired five times,
hitting him with four bullets — two in the chest.
The family says the officers
yanked the mortally wounded man out of the car, restrained him and left him on
the ground unattended until paramedics arrived.
Their lawyer, Carter Elliott,
hopes to force authorities to release any video and other evidence.
North Augusta's Public Safety
Department has refused to release any details about Craven's history. City
officials didn't make him available for interviews, and he didn't respond to
emails.
Police agencies hurt their own
credibility when they withhold information, allowing rumors and speculation to
fill the void, Alpert said.
"They work for us — the
public," Alpert said. "You need to put as much accurate information
out there as you can to get in front of the issue and create your own
story."
