Shot, Shackled, Released and Disregarded.

Updated: Aug 28, 2021

This is the story of an innocent by-stander who was shot by police, awoke shackled to a hospital bed, and kept from his family for hours. Despite the Officer being dismissed from duty for negligence, Tari is held responsible for the cost of the damages - including a costly emergency surgery. How? That's what we want to know.

I don't know what you've heard, I don't know what you've read, but I guarantee, you haven't gotten the story from this source. This is my story. This is my way of giving you everything that I experienced in my own way.

September 8, 2019 - We had plans to have a little movie night as a family. We were up in our bedroom all watching a movie together. I didn't really think anything was wrong at first because in my neighborhood you become accustomed to hearing certain sounds.

The sirens didn't start raising my awareness until I heard it getting closer to the house. It wasn't just one siren or two, it was getting louder, and louder, and louder the closer it got to my house. After hearing the sirens for about 3-4 minutes, we're looking around like, "What is going on?"

My phone was on vibrate, but I had it in my pocket. I feel the phone vibrate and I pull it out of my pocket and I see it's Kevin's number pop up on the phone. It hung up before I got to answer it. I'm thinking "Ok, that's weird." Sirens still getting closer and closer.

Then my phone rings again. It's Kevin again. I pick up and I instantly hear the sirens in his background. I say, "Hello?" Didn't hear nothing. I say hello again, he didn't say nothing. "Kevin?" He's not responding. I'm just hearing the sirens.

At that point, I'm looking out the window in my room, I don't see nothing. I still hear the sirens and they're close. I get ready to come downstairs to go look toward the rest of the house and make sure everything is locked up. I hear my partner Titi telling my, "What's wrong?" She can see it in my face - trying to figure out what I should do next.

All of a sudden, we see the sirens in the front of the house coming down our block. You hear the car going, and then you hear the sirens. Titi goes to the front of the house, and she opens the door. She sees the cars, they're driving around and I come to the door behind her. Her and Drameria (our daughter) are standing on the porch.

Drameria and Titi at this point was on the sidewalk. They're trying to flag down Kevin as he's driving past, and screaming at the top of their lungs, terrified. I tell her and Drameria to come up on the porch. After Kevin drove around the first time there were five cards behind him. Now we're trying to find out where Kevin is at this point because he's driving in this one circle.

I realize that he was circling the block to draw attention. He has a lot of family in that neighborhood.

I sensed like it was his way of, at almost 1:30 in the morning, trying to wake everyone up and be aware of what's going on. That what it felt like.

I run upstairs and I tell the kids, "Don't come out of the room. Stay here until we come to get you all.

I come back down the stairs and I noticed my back door was cracked. It was unlocked and ajar. I'm looking like, "Why's the back door opened?"

As I'm walking through my living room, through the dining room, get to the kitchen, I open the door, the upstairs door going into the back hallway. I get down three stairs, it's a landing. As soon as I stepped down on the bottom of the landing, right in front of the door to outside, the door swings open. It hits my foot, which made me step back a little bit, and Kevin fell in. As he fell in, I hear the shot. It was almost instantaneous.

Then I look, and I notice it was the officer standing there with his gun raised. I fall back. I hit the stairs. When the pain hit me, I couldn't do nothing but scream. Every inhale hurt. Every exhale hurt.

I knew that when I went to that backdoor, Drameria was behind me. My concern was, "Did it go through me and hit her." I can't allow my kids to get hurt.

I hear Drameria screaming, "Dad, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?"

All I could do was try to comfort her.

I'm watching the police handcuff Kevin. I'm holding my stomach, and I'm saying to myself, "I can't believe they shot me. I can't believe - why are you shooting? What was the-- Why?"

I don't know what the Officer was thinking at that time, but I do know he was on a mission. In no way form or fashion did he try to assess the situation. The intent was evident. Their idea of resolving the situation was going to be somebody getting shot.

"He wasn't advancing toward the officer. He was not in a threatening stance. He wasn't reaching. It's hard to be a threat if someone's running away from you."

An officer steps into the back hallway and he grabs me by my left arm, and he tries to put the cuffs on me. The officer who shot me states to the officer who is trying to handcuff me, "He was the one that was shot. He was just standing in the doorway."

I was so angry. You don't discharge your firearm to handle that situation at the risk of other civilians around. He stopped trying to handcuff me, he stepped over my body. It was almost like, "Okay, we shot you. Now we're going to go into your house."

Titi was in the backyard now, I can hear her talking to the officer. She says, "I need to go in the house. My daughters is upstairs. I need to get in the house," and they wouldn't allow her to get in. They kept pushing her, and she kept saying, "Stop touching me."

At this time, the officer that stepped over me, goes into the kitchen. He's standing right at the back door in front of me, between me and Drameria. At that moment I realized they were treating my home as a crime scene. They were looking for evidence. They were looking for some kind of reason to justify their actions.

After they picked up Kevin and put him in the back of the police car, I heard Titi in the kitchen, "Why ya'll in my house? You ain't got no warrant. Get the hell out of my house. You're not supposed to be here."

To be in that position where I couldn't even stand up to even help my family was a feeling I never want to feel again. I had no defense.

This didn't feel normal, when you knew you hadn't done anything wrong, you knew you hadn't broken any laws or did anything illegal, but you're feeling like, "Okay, my house just got raided and I'm going to go down for life." That's what it felt like. It felt like there was no communication.

Normally, when you're a victim of a situation, they want to talk to you. No, this was one of those where you are the subject. You are the suspect. I'm asking "Where's the medic? Where's the EMT?" I'm just sitting there bleeding. I didn't think I was going to make it.


I remember waking up and there's two nurses in my room. As I'm coming to and I'm focusing on the rest of the room, there's three officers in my room. I had 40 to 48 staples in my stomach. Moving hurt, breathing hurt, everything hurt. When I finally move my legs, I notice I couldn't move. I realized that I had been shackled to the bed.

After hours of sitting there, the nurses come back in and they tell me that my family was downstairs in the lobby, and they were trying to get up here but the police escorted them off the premises.

"Why am I handcuffed to this bed? What's going on?"

"My supervisor will be here to speak with you shortly," one of the officers said. Shortly turned into four hours.

The officers came into the room and took all of their paperwork and told me, "Our supervisors say you're free to go." They took the shackles off me, put a phone in my arm. Titi shows up 20 minutes later.

She squeezed me so hard, it hurt, but it felt good to hold her at that moment. It felt good to be able to just see her face, but it also hurt because i was seeing the pain in her eyes, the anger. It's what fuels me to this day. The trauma set in, the closer I got to home.

Hospitals don't play about their bills. They send them out immediately. I received bills maybe a week and a half after I got shot, very expensive process.

I was shot in my abdomen, approximately half an inch from my belly button. It entered my stomach and it exited out of my hip. There's about 12 to 15 bullet fragments still in there, according to the x-rays.

I haven't heard anything from the mayor, police chief, Lieutenant chief, city attorney, not a DA, not an alderman, city council, neighborhood block watch. I haven't heard anything from no one since it happened.

My kids will never be the same. I will never be the same.

My daughter can never not look at her wrist and see the bruises from the handcuffs. I can never look in the mirror and take off my shirt and not see the scars.

It's time for change. I want you to know what rogue policing does to a family. I want you to know how traumatizing it can be for young people to deal with how people are policed. Their procedures, their public relations, controlling the narrative, and how long it takes for them to rectify their wrongdoings. They have all the power. I particularly have none, but I do have a voice and I am going to use it.

They don't want me to raise awareness on how things are done and dealt with in my neighborhood and how it differs from how they deal with other neighborhoods. They want me to just let it go and kick it underneath the rug.

It's not just about me. It's not just about my family. At the end of the day, I could be you.

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