Black Faces, Blue Culture: The Tyre Nichols Verdict and the Crisis of Black Leadership

Two years ago, the brutal beating of Tyre Nichols at the hands of five Memphis police officers shocked the nation. The video was horrifying. Nichols, unarmed and pleading for his life, was pummeled by men who looked like him—Black officers, under a Black police chief, in a majority-Black city. The SCORPION unit responsible was immediately disbanded, and for a moment, it seemed as though real accountability might follow.

Instead, we got silence.

This May, three of those officers—Tadarrius Bean, Demetrius Haley, and Justin Smith—were acquitted of all state charges, including second-degree murder, aggravated assault, and aggravated kidnapping. Two others—Desmond Mills Jr. and Emmitt Martin III—pleaded guilty before trial. All five still face sentencing in June 2025 for related federal charges.

So what exactly happened? Here’s a clear breakdown:

Who Were the Five Officers?

All five officers were members of the now-disbanded SCORPION unit of the Memphis Police Department:

• Tadarrius Bean
• Demetrius Haley
• Justin Smith
• Desmond Mills Jr.
• Emmitt Martin III

What Charges Did They Face?

State Charges (Tennessee Court)

• Second-degree murder
• Aggravated assault
• Aggravated kidnapping (2 counts)
• Official misconduct (2 counts)
• Official oppression

State Verdicts:

• Bean, Haley, and Smith: Acquitted of all charges (May 2025)
• Mills and Martin: Pleaded guilty before trial

Federal Charges (U.S. Department of Justice)

• Deprivation of rights under color of law
• Conspiracy to cover up the incident
• Obstruction of justice

Federal Verdicts:

• Haley: Convicted on all significant federal charges
• Bean and Smith: Convicted of obstruction of justice only
• Mills and Martin: Pleaded guilty to federal civil rights violations

All five are awaiting sentencing in June 2025 for their federal convictions.

Beyond the Charges: A System That Trains, Rewards, and Protects Violence

What makes this case especially revealing is not just that the officers were Black—it’s that the department was led by a Black police commissioner, Cerelyn “CJ” Davis. On paper, this appeared to be progress. Black leadership. Black officers. Black community. But even with all that representation, the brutality persisted, and justice proved elusive.

This points to a more profound, more uncomfortable truth: we are still operating under the same violent policing culture rooted in slave patrols and the Black Codes. The color of the officer doesn’t change the culture of the institution.

When Black faces fill positions of authority, but the structure they inherit remains rooted in control, violence, and unaccountability, we don’t get transformation—we get management. We don’t get systemic change—we get symbolic diversity. The badge remains a weapon, no matter who wears it.

Too many Black officials are elevated to enforce the status quo, not to challenge it. They inherit broken systems and manage them with new slogans, not new outcomes. In doing so, they become caretakers of the very oppression they were elected or appointed to dismantle.

The SCORPION unit was not rogue. It was policy. Created and endorsed from the top down as a response to crime, it targeted predominantly Black neighborhoods with militarized policing. The officers were executing strategy, not deviating from it. The outcome was tragically predictable.

This is where we must confront not just the failure of the justice system, but also the failure of Black leadership.

Blacks in Law Enforcement of America, a national organization of current and former Black law enforcement professionals, issued a powerful and necessary statement that called out this contradiction:

“Despite decades of progress in political representation, not a single city led by Black elected officials… has eliminated the threat of police brutality against Black people. Not one.”

From New York to New Orleans, Baltimore to Mount Vernon, Black communities continue to face unlawful surveillance, violent arrests, and police killings—even when Black mayors, Black police chiefs, and Black prosecutors lead their cities.

The problem is not just racism. It’s also compliance with a system designed to oppress, regardless of who’s in charge. As Blacks in Law Enforcement put it:

“You were not elected to manage oppression. You were elected to end it.”

That statement deserves to be carved into every city hall and courtroom in America. Because the reality is this: symbolic leadership is not protecting Black lives. And in many cases, it is helping to shield the systems that continue to endanger them.

If antisemitism plagued a city under a Jewish mayor, it would not be tolerated. It would be met with swift, unapologetic action. But when police kill Black men under Black mayors, we get silence, talking points, and soft reforms that do nothing to stop the subsequent death.

It’s time to stop pretending representation is enough. If Black leadership does not lead with courage, it becomes a tool of the very systems it was meant to confront. Power is meaningless if it only maintains the status quo.

The Tyre Nichols case is not an exception. It is the rule. And until we stop managing brutality and start dismantling it, we will continue to bury our sons under the watch of those who look like them, but serve something else entirely.