HomeMy WebLinkAboutT. Arata Letter PDFAugust 12, 2020
District Attorney Dan Dow
1035 Palm Street
San Luis Obispo, CA 93405
Dear Mr. Dow,
First, I would like to thank you for taking the time to read my letter. My name is Lealah
Broyles. I am a mother of three, a Cal Poly alumni, a business woman, a home owner,
and an active part of my community. My husband is a Firefighter who has served in SLO
County for approximately 12 years. Personally, I would say that I am someone who has
dedicated her life to advocating for and protecting young people. I worked for and sat on
the Board of Directors for Family Care Network for many years. My husband and I have
worked with the youth in some capacity whether it be at our church or independent
organizations for more than 20 years. We are a family that believes youth advocacy is not
only important, it is Biblical.
Raising my children I instilled in them the idea, "see something, say something." I am
writing this letter to you, Mr. Dow, in attempts to "say something." On July 21 st I
attended the BLM rally hosted by the BIPOC Youth of SLO in Mitchell Park. I attended
with two of my sons (ages 6 and 13) and my best friend and her children (ages 9, 13, and
15). I attended with the understanding that this was a peaceful protest by the youth, for
the youth. I was excited to support BIPOC Youth of SLO but more personally to support
my best friend's youngest son (my God Son) who was adopted from Ethiopia 7 years ago.
Having grown up in SLO County I am aware that we live in a fairly homogeneous
bubble. Knowing this, it is important for me to not only support my friend's son and his
family in connecting with other BIPOC Youth but to also educate, enlighten, and
encourage my children to do the same.
Sitting in the park we listened to stories that broke my heart, as a woman, as a mother, as
a Believer. I listened to words spoken with righteous anger and indignation. Words spoken
with frustration and desperation. I SAW young people speak about personal stories of
racism, systemic racism, and the ways in which they have been generationally
marginalized. I SAW them speak of the ways in which the government institutions
established to protect them has not only undermined their experiences but has denied
and nullified the truth of their struggle. I SAW these young activists speak like they had
everything to gain and absolutely nothing to lose. Or possibly worse, like they had nothing
to gain and even less to lose.
I stood when they called all the mother's to the front. I SAW the gratitude in their eyes
that I was there, bringing my White skin to stand with, advocate for, and quite possibly
protect them. I walked with my two sons, which felt normal, natural, and necessary.
I SAW the peacekeepers talking calmly and respectfully to anyone who chose to yell
expletives or make violent gestures. I SAW Tianna Arata move from the front and the
back of the march to make sure everyone was safe and accounted for. At no time did I
feel that I couldn't leave or was being lead against my will. In fact, I chose to separate
from the march on the corner of Higuera and Broad street so my youngest son could find
a restroom.
I SAW the entire freeway protest from the Santa Rosa Bridge, with a bird's eye view (as I
was now standing with a long lensed photographer who is documenting the movement). I
SAW people out of their cars sitting in beach chairs on the 101 Freeway, allowing space
for the march. I SAW cars parked right next to the march with the driver doors open
casually leaning against their windows. Once the protestors moved under the bridge
toward California, I SAW the 14+ law enforcement vehicles continue with blocking traffic
while the protestors laid on the freeway for 8 minutes and 15 seconds to remind people of
George Floyd and the harsh reality that racism still exists. I SAW the fist bump between
law enforcement, Michelle Arata and Jaylen as they approached law enforcement.
I also SAW the myriad of hand gestures made at me, my 6 year old son, and the small
group of protestors standing on the bridge. I also heard people yelling for me to "throw
myself off the bridge", "All lives matter, "F*ck Black lives", "these stupid f*cking people",
kill yourself". At no time during the march did I feel afraid for myself or my children
until I stood on that bridge and the community around me closed in with their racial
epithets and hate speech. (I really hope I don't have to spell out the irony here).
I SAW the youth activists literally dance in the streets on the corner of Monterey and
California. The feeling was of jubilation. I SAW the joy in their faces, celebrating a
victory for their movement, as the very system that had denied systemic racism existing in
SLO was now fist bumping, a gesture to say "we're cool". Yes, the action was dramatic,
but for one small moment this county was forced to not only see them, but hear them.
Mr. Dow, I also SAW the violent arrest of Tianna Arata later that evening. As I pulled up
to drop my friend at her car on Buchon, I SAW the 6+ police officers swarm Tianna and
the small group of protestors saying their goodbyes. As I opened my car door, a woman in
an oncoming car yelled to me, "I would leave if I were you, something's about to go
down!" As I peered back and SAW the youth yelling, screaming, wailing, and Tianna's
voice rising above everything else, "I'm not resisting! I'm not resisting! I'm not resisting!" I
looked at the woman and said, "No! I know those kids! I was just with them! I need to
help them!"
I SAW the police officers man -handle Tianna Arata with more vengeance and aggression
than necessary. I SAW them approach her with the "shock and awe" you would use in
taking down a drug lord or serial killer. (In fact, I know that the man who molested my
friend's daughter and the man who raped my other friend were arrested with more
dignity and decency than Tianna Arata.) I SAW the fear in her eyes, as she was pushed,
shoved, and treated like an armed fugitive. I heard NOTHING as they were arresting her,
no rights read, no explanation, no answer to where they were taking her. I SAW the police
not arrest her but violently abduct her.
I SAW the young people crack into fearful sobs. I SAW her friends screaming, "that's my
friend! Where are they taking her?!" I SAW them pacing Buchon trying to collect
themselves. I SAW and heard them vacillate with receiving a hug from me because of
COVID. I SAW them choose to risk their lives to receive the comfort of a mother. And so
I held them and comforted them like any good mother would, like any good Christian
should.
Mr. Dow, I am asking you to drop all charges against Tianna Arata. I am asking you to
see something, say something" yourself. I know that you SEE the disproportionate
nature of these charges. The punishment absolutely does not match the crime. I know
you SEE how SLOPD acted carte blanche. I know you SEE that this arrest of a 20 year
old woman of color not only reminds us but confirms the existence of systemic racism in
SLO. You and you alone have an opportunity to SAY SOMETHING: an example of
systemic racism, in this one instance, can stop with you.
I will leave you with this, a reminder: civil disobedience is NOT violence, but rather " civil
disobedience is the most expressive form of democracy." (Steve Forte)
Sincerely,
Lealah Broyles
broylesfamiliana ffrn a
805) 235-4028