Quandavier Hicks’ mother Erica Woods walked in a memorial march through Northside on June 11, 2015. More than 200 showed up for the event. Photo: Nick Swartsell

Quandavier Hicks’ mother Erica Woods walked in a memorial march through Northside June 11. More than 200 showed up for the event. Photo: Nick Swartsell

Erica Woods came from Georgia to Cincinnati for answers about her son’s death and found herself marching across the Hamilton Avenue I-75 overpass June 11 with a group of more than 200.

Woods’ son, 22-year-old Quandavier Hicks, was shot and killed in Northside June 9 by Cincinnati police officer Doris Scott. His death almost immediately inflamed anger and left lingering questions in the neighborhood, which has seen high-profile police shootings in the past.

The information presented by officials about Hicks’ death suggests a more complex scenario than other recent police-involved deaths, like those in Cleveland, Baltimore, Ferguson, Mo. and elsewhere that have fueled a national conversation about law enforcement use of force. Both Hicks and Scott were black, for example, unlike other cases in which the involved officer was white. And Hicks was armed, police say. But some community members and activists have questioned the official version of events. Hicks’ death has underscored continuing tension in a city that has in the past been a symbol for police shootings and, more recently, a national touchstone for police reform.

“No matter what version of what went down Tuesday night you lean toward, there’s a lot that’s wrong,” said Cincinnati Black Lives Matter organizer Brian Taylor at the June 11 memorial rally and march in Northside. “He should not have been killed in contact with police.”

At a June 10 news conference, Police Chief Jeffrey Blackwell laid out how CPD believes events unfolded the night Hicks died. Officers were in an apartment building at 1751 Chase Ave. searching for Hicks because a 911 caller on Colerain Avenue said he had earlier entered her house without her permission and threatened her life over the phone, Blackwell said. While officer Scott and partner Justin Moore stood in front of a door after knocking and identifying themselves as police, Hicks opened an adjacent door and pointed a .22 caliber bolt-action rifle at them, Blackwell said. Moore grabbed the rifle and Scott shot Hicks in the chest, he said. Blackwell presented photographs of the rifle and audio of the 911 call. The caller’s identity has not been released.

“None of us want to come to work and have to do this,” Blackwell said. “While it’s certainly very early in the investigation, the shooting appears to be one that would be ruled within policy.”

Blackwell stressed that the investigation is ongoing. CityBeat has made public records requests for all associated records along with video and audio recordings associated with the incident. So far, CPD has released only preliminary incident reports associated with the shooting.

Woods says she hasn’t been satisfied with the information she’s been given by police, and many local activists feel the same way.

“I had to come 800 miles here because nobody told me my child was taken from me,” she said June 11. “The community of Northside and social media told me my son is dead. Two days later, he’s laying frozen in a box. I haven’t been able to look at his face. I still haven’t gotten an answer from any police. I just want an answer.”

Woods visited the scene of her son’s death just before the June 11 rally and says she can’t make sense of the story based on what she saw. The amount of blood and the intense spray it left on the walls of Hicks’ apartment have led her to believe he might have been shot in the head, not in the chest as police have stated. Woods also says a witness heard Hicks tell police he was coming down from his third-floor apartment peacefully. CityBeat’s attempts to reach that witness have not been successful as of press time.

The Hamilton County Coroners Office has said Hicks’ autopsy could take weeks.

On an emotional level, Woods says she has a hard time squaring the kind, gentle person she knew with the actions her son is said to have taken.

Woods says Hicks grew up in a two-parent household with five other siblings who got along and loved each other. She, along with activists like Taylor, also lambasted the media for painting Hicks as a “thug.” Many news reports noted Hicks had five arrests for drug possession. One article by The Cincinnati Enquirer suggested he was “dipping his toe into the drug game.”

Woods says Hicks came to Cincinnati to get a fresh start.

“What they’re making my son out to be, he’s not,” she said. “He came from a home with a momma that worked 24/7 and a daddy that showed him the ways of life. He always said, ‘Yes sir, no sir, yes ma’am, no ma’am.’ “

Hicks’ shooting happened on the eve of a press conference announcing CPD’s new anti-violence initiative. The city has seen a 10-year-high spike in gun violence, which has caused some intense scrutiny on Blackwell from city administration. On the other hand, the shooting also came as a persistent national conversation, and anger, continues around police use of force against minorities. That debate entered the national stage last year with the police shooting of Mike Brown, an unarmed black man in Ferguson, Mo. The issue has continued to be front and center in the spotlight after a number of other high-profile deaths, including the police shooting of 12-year-old Tamir Rice in Cleveland and John Crawford III in a Beavercreek Walmart. Both were holding toy guns when they were killed, Rice in a public park and Crawford inside a Walmart while talking on a cellphone.

Civil unrest followed these incidents and others in Baltimore, North Charleston, S.C., New York City and elsewhere. The protests had an eerie echo to Cincinnati’s own three days of unrest in Over-the-Rhine and other neighborhoods following the April 2001 shooting death of unarmed Timothy Thomas by officer Stephen Roach.

Hicks’ death also hits closer to home in Northside. In 2011, David “Bones” Herbert was shot and killed by police just a block away on Chase Avenue by officer Andrew Mitchell. Herbert had a knife with him, which he had pulled out of his pocket after officers inquired whether he was armed. Some, including police use-of-force experts who have studied the shooting since, say officers got too close to Herbert and didn’t have a solid plan for engaging him.

Another controversial police shooting occurred nearby in 1999, when officers shot Michael Carpenter in his car outside a convenience store. Police say Carpenter dragged an officer who had reached into the passenger side of the car and then wrecked into a parked van, but some witnesses at the scene say that didn’t seem to be the case. Though the shooter, officer Brent McCurley, was disciplined by CPD, a federal investigation ultimately exonerated the involved officers.

Recent national controversies around police shootings have cycled back to Cincinnati, but in a mostly positive way. The city has received national attention for its collaborative agreement, a federally enforced plan to increase police accountability and community engagement.

But the city’s much-lauded police reforms haven’t stopped tension around Hicks’ death. Dozens of community members hung around the apartment building on Chase Avenue for hours after he was killed, expressing anger and demanding more information. Two people, including Hicks’ uncle, Bobby Thompson, were briefly arrested that night after police say they tore down police tape and entered the crime scene. Thompson, however, denies this, saying he didn’t do anything wrong. Hamilton County Clerk of Courts records show Thompson was charged with disorderly conduct, fined $110, and released the next day.

Chief Blackwell points to the extensive press conference the day after the shooting and says most departments across the country take far longer to answer questions about police-related shootings. But Hicks’ family and some activists say vital information hasn’t come easily or quickly enough.

Thompson says he got numerous phone calls from family and friends saying that Hicks had been killed, rather than learning about it from police.

“I went down there, and the police wouldn’t give me any answers,” he says. “Next thing I knew, they were throwing cuffs on me.” ©

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