On the night of December 12, 2012, Percy Coleman and his family would never look at life the same. In the last week, the latest Chicago Police Department's video release drudges up deep, emotional wounds as six police officers are seen on film entering Phillip Coleman's jail cell and repeatedly tasering, choking and dragging him until he is unconscious. Percy Coleman recounts the events that occurred on that night to the Chicago Defender, in an in-depth conversation.
On cold a Winter night in the West Pullman community, the husband and father of three arrived to his home only to be met with several Chicago police squad and paramedic vehicles blocking his street. Little did he know, his youngest son, Phillip Coleman, 38 was the focal point of the disturbance. Having suffered a mental breakdown, Chicago Police officers were called to the Coleman home when his mother called to report that her son attacked her forcing her to seek safety at a neighbor's house.
All of this was not yet known to his father, Mr. Coleman who had left work for the evening, where he serves as the Parole Commander for the State of Illinois at the Department of Corrections. He recounts the evening confronting his son, Phillip. “There were two police cars and one ambulance blocking the street so I had to go around to get to my house. As I'm going through the alley, I get to a real dark part – the last turn before you go back into the light. I could hear somebody shouting something. Being in law enforcement, I went as far as I could without my mind thinking somebody might be in trouble – I just didn't want to stop in the dark, where I had trouble seeing. So, I got out of the car and looked back and he said, 'Dad, Daddy!'--it was my son. He was bopping up and down the alley – a little skip, a little run. I'm thinking why is he out here without a coat on? It was cold,” Mr. Coleman remembered.
He knew something was wrong—something was off. The man who was staring back at him, looked like his son but his behavior demonstrated the opposite. He was bleeding from his hands and from his mouth—he continued to spit the blood out. As Mr. Coleman asked his son what was the matter, Phillip went to hug him and kiss him on the cheek but immediately stepped back and said, “You're not my Dad. Who are you?” He then paused, “You're the devil,” He said, as he continued about the devil and other incoherent things that his father couldn't understand. Without any warning, his son hit his father so hard that it knocked his glasses off of his face. Not understanding clearly what was going with his son, he proceeded to his car to he regained his composure—locking the doors.
“He came over to the car and as I was pulling off, he kicked the side window and it shattered. I didn't know what was going on. I drove back towards the ambulance and the police cars. I told the ambulance driver that I needed some help. I think my son is losing his mind,” Coleman informed him but the paramedic responded they weren't there to treat his son—they were there to treat the woman who was hurt. At the time, he didn't know the woman was his wife—Phillip's mother.
Percy Coleman, a graduate of Chicago State University having earned a Law Enforcement degree, Coleman has been in law enforcement for 40 years. Having served as Chief of Police for South Suburban townships, Robbins and later, Chief of Police in Ford Heights—he eventually became the Commander of Police for the Chicago Housing Authority (CHA). He's experienced countless situations during his time in law enforcement—gang wars, domestic disputes, crossing paths with some of the most dangerous cases as a law enforcement officer. He doesn't see the same dedication to service and commitment from some police officers today—working with key leaders in CHA in the 1980's throughout the 1990's made a difference in building community service.
“Therein was the best training that I've had. We did real community policing with the residents. After 50 years, CHA – was no longer the most troubled housing list in the United States. We got them off of that list because of our police prowess,” He said.
“We got them off because we had to work with the residents. We have to mention people like Dr. Carolyn Adams and Gil Walker who handled positive sports programs such as the Midnight Basketball league and 16" Softball games. Some may think that's not important but they kept folks out of trouble.” As we sat there going over what happened according to Mr. Coleman's recollection of that fateful December night, three years ago—the photos on the walls of his office tell the story of a man who takes pride in his children, community and public service.
A photo of Phillip Coleman stands out on his wall. HOSPICE, a program his son led included other educators and ministers traveling to Africa a few years ago. Earning his graduate degree in Political Science and later his MBA in Public Health from UIC—he built an extended network of friends beyond the United States. “He had over a 1,000 preachers in the U.S. working with him, including Jeremiah Wright and Rev. Jesse Jackson. This young man wasn't a thug. He wasn't a gang member. He didn't slang drugs. He was caught up in a system, the night he had his breakdown. The system was beginning to wear him down. I didn't see it. I didn't take time to look at his pain,” Percy Coleman said. His son, recently divorced returned home to help with the family business while maintaining his job was under tremendous pressure according to his father.
That night was the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Coleman felt helpless—it was the last time they both would see their youngest son alive. With the help of their neighbor, Phillip Coleman was restrained by his father in order to prevent police officers from using deadly force. His erratic behavior prompted him to make sounds like an airplane with his arms spread out in a flying position, with his hands on his hips—he stopped in the middle of their family street and starred at everyone. He said, “Now, what are you going to do—shoot me?” Immediately, Percy Coleman turned around and saw police officers drawing their guns pointing it at his son. He yelled, holding up his hands and said, “'Wait, wait—you can't shoot him!' It was a Black female officer that replied, 'I'm going to shoot him if he doesn't follow my orders.' I asked her who is she going to shoot if he doesn't understand what you're saying? He's clearly out of his mind,” Coleman said. After pleading to a higher ranking police officer on the scene to have his son taken to Jackson Park Hospital instead of the local police station due to his mental behavior, he was denied and was told that he spat on the female officer.
They eventually got his son into the squad vehicle and he was driven to the 111th Street Police station at Calumet District. He checked on his wife who was awaiting an ambulance after police officers were taken to the hospital in the first one originally called for her. Once she made it to the hospital, the first things out of her mouth was 'How was Phillip?' said Mr. Coleman. She didn't want to press charges.
For the next 16 hours, Percy Coleman was sent in a whirlwind of disarray, confusion and inconvenience by the CPD. “I received no courtesy. I'm a 34th Ward Committeeman—a Republican Committeeman. I used to go over there to help them with their community piece. All I wanted to do was to see my son. I asked them if I could talk to him. I was told that he was sleeping and they didn't want to wake him up,” The front desk personnel informed him that a State's Attorney prosecutor would arrive after speaking with a detective. After an unsuccessful attempt by a detective to convince the Commander to transfer Phillip Coleman to receive medical help—Mr. Coleman was instructed to appear in bond court the following afternoon at 26th and California.
The following afternoon, he eagerly arrived at the courthouse prepared to take care of his son and get him the proper medical attention. But, his son's name was never called because Phillip never made the trip. While he was being told by a Cook County Sheriff officer that his son was not on the list of detainees—unbeknownst to him, he was being transported to Roseland Hospital. After receiving a phone call from his oldest son's best friend, he rushed back to the 111th St. police station to be told by the front desk that he could find his son at the Roseland. He recalls the scene when he arrives at the hospital, “When I get there, they said Philip allegedly had been fighting the police officers and the hospital staff. They said they had him in a room—working on him. I didn't know what 'working' on him meant. I could hear the respirator,” Coleman said.
After insisting on seeing his son, the hospital staff allowed him to see him-- breathing by the help of a respirator. He was told they had to clean him up – icing him down. Later, he was told they were getting rid of the taser marks and bruises on his body.
Coleman said, “He had been tasered approximately 25 times and they beat him with batons. By this time, it was approximately 3pm.” As he the signed paperwork to allow the medical staff to give his son the proper care, he thought they were administering—he saw a peculiar scene.
“This one nurse kept sending an aid to ask a doctor if she could do this procedure or administer that medication. The aid kept coming back and forth on what she could do or could not do. By this this time, it was 4pm.” Having been there for awhile, he decided to step out to get something to eat because of his diabetes. But, before he crossed the street, he turned back around to walk back into the hospital. He encountered resistance from the medical staff to see his son but was told Phillip was going through a 'code blue'--requiring the medical team to perform resuscitative efforts due to the patient going into cardiac arrest. A few minutes later, they lead Mr. Coleman to a private room.
They all come in looking sad. I've been through this before—not for my family but for others. I knew what they were going to say to me. My son was dead. Two days later, we find out that my son died at four o'clock. They didn't tell me he was dead until 7pm that evening,” His voice trembled strong with anger. “They strung me along throughout this process. I'm not letting Roseland Hospital get away with this either.”
According to the hospital, Phillip Coleman died from a bad reaction from a sedative given to him upon his arrival. The Coleman family disputes these claims.
Almost three years later, the dash cam video release of Laquan McDonald forces the CPD hand to release snippets of Phillip Coleman's incarceration. “I saw the tape when the public first saw it that night on television. My lawyer had some form of the tape but none of us had not viewed it. I never sat down and looked at it. It was the short part when they brought Phillip into the station under the sheet.” He insists that his son was fully clothed when he was helped in the squad car and in the video—only boxer shorts and one sock was shown.
“I'm on 127th Street from my house and to the jail—what happened to his clothes? They did something to him before he got into that building. I want the entire video. They didn't tell us they were releasing it. I want folks to be outraged at how we've been treated,” The family has been approached to settle but Mr. Coleman has turned down any attempts of not going to trial. “I could've took some money. But if they are so smart then let's go to the court because I think I have something to tell.”
Appearing at the Rainbow PUSH Saturday morning broadcast, Percy Coleman addresses the crowd of PUSH members and visitors along with Reverend Jesse Jackson, Sr., Bishop Tavis Grant and Coleman's oldest son with strong conviction that the demand for the entire video must be released. Jackson urges supporters to push forward in the release of the full video.
“Two years after this incident—IPRA never interviewed the police officers. They are supposed to be unbiased. They came to my house a couple of weeks after my son's death and interviewed me and my wife but they never interviewed the police officers,” He said he didn't find out about this until the deposition hearings when his attorney asked IPRA. With Black public officials in an uproar over the latest findings of police misconduct and cover up—this all comes to no surprise to the Coleman family. Their world has been rocked and the demand for both State Attorney Alvarez and Mayor Emanuel's resignation will not bring their son back.
“Just marching can't be the only plan that we have—shutting down streets. It's got to be something more than this. I want to see a civilian overview board for the CPD because they will never change themselves internally—they can't. They're not going to give up that kind of power,” Coleman insists.
Originally Published by The Chicago Defender December 2015
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