Kyle Vass, Author at West Virginia Public Broadcasting

HIV In The Mountain State: April Finds Recovery But Laments The Infected Who Are Still On The Streets

Dr. Christine Teague is the head of the Ryan White Program at Charleston Area Medical Center. The program is a clinic that provides treatment and prevention to patients with or with a high risk of contracting HIV/AIDS.

Teague has been with the program for 20 years. But her first experience with HIV dates back to 1992.

“It was actually someone that I knew personally, and he ended up passing away.”

Around that time, Teague was in pharmacology school and started to become interested in infectious diseases. She decided to begin her residency at an AIDS clinic.

“The people, the relationships that I made with the people in the clinic, these were people that I saw regularly, and then they passed away. At some point, you have to decide. You want to give emotionally. And, you want to establish a relationship. But you have to have some sort of emotional boundaries. Because if they pass away, then that’s devastating.”

Prior to 1995, an HIV/AIDS diagnosis was a death sentence, Teague said. Nearly everyone who contracted the disease would die not long after. However, breakthrough discoveries around that time allowed doctors to successfully treat the disease.

But, according to Teague, the days of being able to control a patient’s HIV/AIDS symptoms are slipping away. The rise of HIV transmission due to intravenous drug use has complicated treatment. Teague said there are a multitude of other health problems that come with intravenous drug use.

“They don’t die of HIV, they die of addiction. A lot of people are passing away from overdose, from septic shock, from endocarditis. And, a lot of people are going to continue to pass away.”

The current outbreak in Kanawha County is taking Teague back to a dark place––the early years of the HIV epidemic. “Getting back into that mindset of, you know, ‘I’m probably going to lose a lot of people here’ again. Am I ready for that? Can I do it, emotionally? A lot of my patients are probably going to pass away.”

This summer, the CDC sent researchers to investigate the outbreak in Kanawha County. They talked with healthcare professionals and people who use drugs to figure out what’s fueling this crisis. Problems highlighted in the report included stigma in the healthcare industry, unstable housing, laws that make it illegal to give people sterile syringes and mental health issues.

But, none of these factors came as a surprise to April Dawn.

“I’ve had a lot of bad things happen. I have physically disfigured my face. I have lost a finger. I caught HIV. Even then, all of that wasn’t rock bottom. It wasn’t enough to make me stop.”

April was living in Charleston, West Virginia in 2019 when she found out she’d contracted HIV.

“It was very, very scary to hear those words. I never knew anybody that had it. Now I know a lot of people that have it, you know? Myself.”

Now, April is in a recovery program in Huntington and has consistently taken medicine to treat the disease. Her viral loads are so low that she’s “undetectable”––meaning traditional blood tests can’t detect that she has HIV/AIDS.

“As long as I take my medicine, I’m good. It’s not scary. I know that I’m good. What is scary, April said, is the current number of people living in Charleston who have HIV/AIDS and don’t yet know it.

After being diagnosed, April didn’t stop shooting up heroin. But she did make it a point to try and get as many people as she could tested. She told anyone she would inject drugs with about her diagnosis and used her own syringe.

“I was out there killing people’s buzzes.”

April said very few people were willing to go get tested. She said when she’d bring it up, people would express two reasons they didn’t want to go: a fear of being treated poorly by healthcare workers and not wanting to face the fact they might already have HIV/AIDS.

Wanting to save her friends, April began to take mouth swab tests with her. She recalls helping test a friend shortly after they both shot up.

“I swabbed his mouth. And 20 minutes later, I yelled for him. I guess he forgot that we did it because we were high. He looked at me and just looked at his face. He was like, “I got it. Don’t I?” I was like, “Yeah. It’s going to be alright though.” And, my pills that I had––I started giving him mine. And, I was trying to get him to go to the doctor because he literally lived right beside the hospital.”

But, April says even when someone knows they’ve contracted the disease, it’s not easy for people with substance use disorder to seek out treatment for HIV/AIDS.

“Even though they do offer transportation and stuff, it’s just trying to take the time to find a phone to use it––if somebody will let you use their phone. There’s a lot of hectic stuff you got to go through out there because you don’t have anything. You have nothing. They’re just focused on getting their money and getting their dope for the day.”

April says when the Kanawha Charleston Health Department stopped being able to give out clean syringes in 2018, people turned to sharing used ones. And she says the problem’s gotten even worse since the City of Charleston criminalized syringe distribution earlier this year.

“There’s so many I can’t even count.” When the number 10 was suggested by this reporter, April responded, “Oh, I was gonna say like 100.”

She added “I was all over the streets. I know a lot of people in active addiction. And with all the trap houses I’ve been to––there are different people in each one. I was out there for almost eight years. So I know every single one of them. That is a lot of people. And only four of us that I know are on [HIV/AIDS] treatment. And two of us are in recovery.”

Since moving to Huntington, April has begun to work a full-time job now as a waitress and has her own apartment. Earlier this month she got engaged to her boyfriend who she met in recovery.

For April, HIV isn’t just “manageable” — it’s something that barely crosses her mind. Except when she thinks about all the people she knows on the streets of Charleston. To her and to Teague, the current HIV statistics for Kanawha County are just the tip of the iceberg.

HIV In The Mountain State: Mike Survives An Early AIDS Infection As Medications Improve

Mike spends a lot of time walking outside. And on the rare occasion that he’s indoors he never stops pacing. But today, Mike was in one place long enough to talk about his experience living with HIV was surprising.

“I’m burning 1,486 calories sitting still,” Mike said while rubbing his pet chihuahua on his lap. “I’ll be sitting here wearing him out like this. No coffee, no nothing. Well, Mountain Dew, but it helps slow me down.”

For the past 25 years, Mike has been living with HIV. He asked that his last name be withheld because he spoke openly about his history of using illegal drugs for this interview.

Mike was living in Florida in 1996 when he found out he contracted the disease. “Sitting there, in the prime of my life. I was only in my 30s. And in the prime of my life. Had a job I like, had a 57-foot yacht, a convertible.”

When Mike woke up with a fever one day, he decided to call off work. His friends came into his room because they noticed his car was still parked outside the house.

“They looked at me and said, “Oh my god, what’s wrong? I said, “I told you I don’t feel good!” And they said, “Oh my god. You look awful.” I told them I was going straight to the clinic.”

In the back of Mike’s mind, he knew the worst case scenario. Months earlier, a friend had revealed his own HIV diagnosis to Mike when they were injecting cocaine one evening. Mike’s friend said he needed to go get some medicine from a friend.

“What do you need? Headache medicine? Cold medicine?’ He said, ‘No. They’re bringing me my AIDS medicine home.’ My heart shot down to my ass. I didn’t know what to say because I thought, “We just shot up and shared a needle.”

A trip to the local health clinic confirmed his worst fears. Mike was diagnosed with the most advanced form of the disease: full blown AIDS. The doctors measured his T Cells, a type of white blood cell that can show the progression of HIV/AIDS. A patient who doesn’t have HIV/AIDS would have a T-Cell count between 500 to 1,600. Mike’s was at 2.

“I asked him, I said, ‘Well, I mean, what’s this mean? How long?’ And he said, ‘I’d probably say about three days.’”

The doctors prescribed him AZT, one of the first drugs used to fight HIV/AIDS. But, the drug’s high level of toxicity brought about horrible side effects.

“It was burning my body. I mean, there’s like chemotherapy for HIV or something.”

Mike said the side effects were so bad that he didn’t want to live what time he had left in pain. He told his mom he wasn’t going to take his medicine anymore.

“‘You gotta take it Michael. It’s keeping you alive!’ I said, ‘It’s making me have convulsions.’ I’d never had convulsions in my life. And I mean, my body jerked uncontrollably for about 40 minutes and I’d hurt from my neck all the way down to my ankles.”

Mike tried alternative treatments like taking herbal supplements and getting blood transfusions. But, he ultimately decided to take the medicine his doctors had prescribed. Today, he’s living with an undetectable viral load of HIV in his body. That means standard HIV blood tests can’t detect the virus in his system.

Twenty-five years ago, Mike was told he had three days to live. Now, at 61, he’s doing great, walking several miles a day. But, according to Dr. Christine Teague who runs the Ryan White Program at Charleston Area Medical Center, if Mike’s diagnosis came just a couple years before 1996, he probably wouldn’t be here today.

“In 1994 is really when the first combination studies came out.”

Teague said one of the reasons HIV was so hard to treat initially is that the virus is able to adapt to individual drugs. “Combination studies” helped scientists figure out how to attack the virus by combining multiple drugs.

“People literally would be on death’s door, and then they would get better. It was a miracle. I mean, it was just like the Lazarus Effect,” she said.

But, that’s all changed in the past few years according to Teague. With the huge spike in HIV transmitted through intravenous drug use, she’s having to reprise an old role–providing care for someone she knows is likely to die soon.

“I haven’t felt that way in HIV care in a long, long time.”

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has identified the outbreak in Kanawha County as “the most concerning in the nation.” The CDC released a report earlier this month focusing on what needs to be done to lower the HIV transmission rate. The report had two big findings according to Teague. First, Kanawha County residents don’t have access to sterile syringes. And second, people who use drugs encounter too much stigma from healthcare providers when they seek out medical help.

“The specific comments by people were ‘I’d rather die than go to the hospital.’ I just think that healthcare providers in general — we have to be very careful on how we’re perceived, and have that cultural competency training, and just basic training on substance use disorder. What it is and what it isn’t.”

Teague added another shortcoming is missed opportunities for HIV testing. She said the CDC report showed patients were being seen in hospitals and clinics eight to 10 times before ever being tested for HIV.

While the problem of healthcare providers not testing people soon enough is something Teague is optimistic about getting it fixed. She knows that’s not enough to turn the tide of this HIV outbreak.

The West Virginia State Legislature and the City of Charleston both recently passed laws making it illegal to give people sterile syringes. Between those laws and what some decry as a deep stigma in the area’s healthcare system, Teague says several hundred people will end up diagnosed with HIV from this outbreak.

HIV In The Mountain State: Robert Becomes A Caretaker After His Partner's Death

Robert Singleton moved to Hardy County, West Virginia in search of peace and clean air. An internationally recognized painter, Robert decided to build a home and studio on a piece of property that overlooked the Blue Ridge Mountains.

In 1987, Robert and his partner, Steven Russell, decided it was time to move in together.

“We had talked about AIDS, or HIV. And he said that he had been tested and was negative. And, I said I had also and as long as we were faithful to each other, we had nothing to be concerned about, because we were both negative.”

One day, before Steven was supposed to go to work, Robert found him sitting in a chair on their back porch.

“I was sitting here and he was beet red. I said, ‘Steven, you don’t look well.’ I put my hand on his forehead and he was burning up and he said, ‘Robert, I haven’t been honest with you. I’ve been really sick.’”

When Robert took his temperature, Steven had a fever of 105. He told Robert he had been steadily losing weight.

“We didn’t use the word AIDS. It was a know — a very fearful knowing. And I said well, ‘Will you trust me? I need to do some things.’ And he said, “Yes, please do what you have to do.’”

Robert called the national AIDS hotline. Within a couple of hours, a nurse at a local hospital called back. She said both Robert and Steven needed to come in as soon as possible.

“The doctor came in to examine him. They drew some blood and did some testing. And then, I don’t know, 30 minutes later they came back and he said, “Steven, I hate to tell you this. But you have full-blown AIDS.’”

“I was sitting right next to him and he was on a gurney. And he just rolled over and looked at me and he said, “Robert, I’m really sorry if I’ve done something to you.” I said, “Don’t worry about it, Steven. We’ll take it a day at a time. We need to focus on you.”

Robert’s test results came back negative. But, he and Stephen both knew what Stephen’s positive diagnosis meant.

“He lived for two years to that day. From the day he was diagnosed to the day he died was exactly two years.”

Robert, now 83, still lives and paints in the same house as he did when Steven was alive. While sitting on the same back porch where his life changed forever, Robert points over to a hill on his property.

“Steve and I used to hang out there, it was a nice place in the summer. We’d take a cold beer and sit under the trees. Anyway, just before he died, he said would I please put his ashes up there on the hill under the trees?”

While Robert never contracted the disease himself, it radically changed the trajectory of his life. Seven of his lifelong friends would die of complications related to AIDS.

“There was a Thanksgiving in, maybe, 1984? We gathered here for a big Thanksgiving dinner. Every one of them, every single one of those people, and their partners died of AIDS. All except me. They all got AIDS and died.”

In Robert’s memoir, titled “Until I Become Light”, he includes a poem about that night. The final verse reads, “Of AIDS, they all suffered. Died. Martyrs of love incarnate. Martyred all, save one.”

As Robert watched his friends go one by one, he decided to lean into the role of caretaker. Anyone dying of AIDS would have his unwavering support. His friends weren’t just dying a painful death. They were dying of a disease that kept everyone else far away from them.

“They were terrified of this plague. The ‘Gay Plague’ is what they referred to it as. And I, for some unknown reason, I was not terrified. I felt these were people I really cared about a great deal. And, for whatever reason, I was not fearful.”

Not long after Steven’s passing, his close friend Butch reached out.

“I knew by this time that he was ill. He called me and said “Robert, there’s only one place I want to be and one person I want to be with.”

Butch asked to have his ashes placed on the same hill where Robert had put Steven’s. Each of the people Robert would accompany to the end of their life would make the same request.

Robert talks about the people he’s lost with nostalgia. But there’s also a sense of peace. He knows at their most desperate hour, he was able to provide the people closest to him with companionship and a promise.

“They’re all up there. They all wanted to go there. They made me promise them once they had passed that I would put them up on the hill.”

Robert rarely visits the top of the hill anymore. His lung condition makes long walks in the summer heat strenuous. Instead he says he’s content to watch the hickory leaves in the spring–a reminder each year that his friends are, in a way, still living. And at the core of his joy is the knowledge that some day he will join them — when he becomes light.

As Gun Deaths Rise Across The US, Charleston, W.Va. Councilwoman Honors Those Lost To Gun Violence

A recent analysis of data from the Washington Post shows the average number of gun deaths per day is 14 people higher than it was in the last six months of 2020. That was the deadliest year yet for gun violence in America. The report was published not long after the City of Charleston experienced its deadliest month for gun violence in decades.

In April of this year, there were five gun deaths in Charleston within a span of 18 days. According to a report from the city, that’s the highest number of gun deaths in a single month in more than 20 years.

Last week at Haddad Riverfront Park, Charleston City Councilwoman Deanna McKinney held a vigil honoring victims of gun violence in the city. McKinney and volunteers set up oversized pictures of the victims in front of the amphitheater’s stage. The pictures showed their faces, their names and the day they were killed.

McKinney has held this event every year since 2014. That’s when her own son, Tymel McKinney, was shot while eating pizza on her front porch. She said gun violence has only gotten worse since he was killed.

“We’re not having any discussions about it. After the funeral, there’s not a mention of it again. I think that’s the problem we forget. And, that’s why I have pictures out here with names and the date; so we don’t forget,” McKinney said.

India Frith is McKinney’s niece and volunteered at the event. Frith said she recognized a lot of the faces in the pictures in front of the stage.

Pictures of fifteen people who have died from gun violence line the stage at Haddad Riverfront Park Saturday, Jun. 26, 2021 in Charleston, W.Va.

“I lost my cousin Tymel, my god-sister Chastanay Joseph. I lost some friends I went to school with — Treykwon Gibson, Nathaniel Spivey,” Frith said.

Frith, who’s 20, says in her short life, she’s already been to several funerals for young people who have been killed by guns in the city. She added it’s one of the reasons she plans on leaving the state.

“I plan on moving out of West Virginia to not stay here, because you know, the memories here, the people that I’ve lost,” she said.

She said she wishes she could’ve had a normal childhood. As a kid, she rarely went outside to play. To this day, she has to vet potential friends before deciding weather or not to hang out with them.

“I watch who’s around me. Because, you hear some of these stories about like, you know, one of them was killed by some of his friends,” Firth said. “I feel like I have to keep looking over my shoulder. I’ll be like, ‘I think it’s best that we not, hang out or be friends like that.’”

Colleen Moran sits in her office where she sees patients in Charleston, W.Va. Moran is a psychologist who works with children.

The stress of worrying about getting shot weighs heavy on a lot of young people according to Colleen Moran. Moran is a child psychologist for Harmony Health in Charleston.

“For most of us, it would be a once in a lifetime event. For these kids, they expect to hear [gunshots] nightly,” Moran said. “There are kids that come into therapy and you say, ‘So tell me some good things that are going on.’ And, the child looks at you and says, ‘We didn’t hear any gunshots last night.’”

Moran worked on Charleston’s West Side as a psychologist at Mary C. Snow, a majority Black elementary school. She said the fear of gun violence is especially strong there.

“There was one individual with whom I worked, who was having a very difficult day at school that day,” she said. “So, they brought the child to me. Come to find out that the child had been up most of the night because the house that they were staying in, had been shot at for the third time. That kind of fear, that kind of experience, that kind of trauma is extremely difficult for children to deal with, because they never feel safe in the one place that they ought to feel the safest––their home.”

Moran added that it’s not unusual for people living in constant fear of gun violence to seem emotionless or even detached when describing what they’ve experienced.

“That’s self preservation. Because, if you fully felt the loss and the impact of every single victim of gun violence, you would not be able to function,” Moran said.

As for the event, very few people turned out to remember those whose faces lined the stage. There were more pictures of victims than people in the crowd. McKinney said she was disappointed in the turnout.

“It’s really hard, especially with a community where you don’t participate, you don’t get involved,” McKinney said. “It shouldn’t take you to lose someone to get involved. Or, when you lose someone you’re looking for all the support and all these people rally around you. We are supposed to be there for each other at all times.”

W.Va.’s Democratic Party Leadership to Face DNC Credentials Committee

The West Virginia Democratic Party recently held a virtual executive committee meeting to discuss the implementation of an affirmative action plan––a plan that aims to “increase opportunity and diversity in the party.”

But, during the June 3 meeting, many members in attendance brought up one problem with the plan.

“I don’t think it’s wise to have a draft affirmative action plan without any minorities that actually wrote it for the state of West Virginia. I just think that’s a bad idea,” said Susan Miley, a Democrat from Harrison County.

She pointed out that the West Virginia Democratic Party’s bylaws require its affirmative action plan to be drafted by the group’s affirmative action committee. But, out of concern that this newly formed committee wouldn’t be able to come up with the plan by a June 4 deadline, the party’s leadership drafted a version of the plan instead.

Since 1974, the Democratic National Committee has required state-level democratic parties to have “affirmative action programs” to include young people, women and people from ethnically diverse backgrounds at all levels of the party.

In the meeting, Miley continued, “Why are white people drafting a plan for Hispanics and Black people?”

Hollis Lewis, who co-chairs the affirmative action committee, followed Miley’s comments. “We had no input on this plan and weren’t asked our opinion. You can’t draft something on behalf of us.”

Hollis Lewis is co-chair of the state Democratic Party’s affirmative action committee

Lewis can be heard at the end of the meeting saying the state democratic parties’ decision to go forward with this plan without his committee was a slap in the face to him as a Black West Virginian.

“In that particular moment, I think what I felt was just like, you know, I don’t believe that any other demographic has been as loyal to the Democratic Party, not only, you know, here in West Virginia, but just nationally as Black people,” Lewis told West Virginia Public Broadcasting.

Lewis added that he took exception with the plan being rushed, considering its been required by the DNC since 1974.

“Forty-six years you waited to do this,” he added. “Now, we want to rush everything through and, and we all of a sudden don’t have time to make sure that the people who that affirmative action plan is affecting, you know, like, again, contribute to it?”

Harold M. Ickes, who served as President Bill Clinton’s deputy chief of staff, has served on the DNC’s Rules and Bylaws Committee since the 1980s. “As far as we can tell, the West Virginia State Democratic Party has never adopted an affirmative action plan that applies to the state party,” Ickes said.

Harold Ickes served on the DNC’s Rules and Bylaws Committee.

“A number of state parties, particularly in the South, but elsewhere as well, resisted the national rules,” Ickes said, when asked if other states have been found not to have affirmative action plans. “But, virtually every state party for many years has had affirmative action committees and affirmative action plans. It came as a complete surprise to me that West Virginia has never had an affirmative action committee or affirmative action plans.

West Virginia Democratic Party Chairwoman Belinda Biafore said in an interview with WVPB that the DNC bylaws don’t specifically require a written affirmative action plan. Biafore added that the state party has always had a plan. However, when asked for agendas or documents supporting such a plan, none were provided.

The DNC’s Credentials Committee will hold a meeting on June 15 to hear challenges raised by members of the West Virginia Democratic Party, who claim the party’s leadership was improperly elected as there wasn’t an affirmative action plan in place at the time of the election. If the DNC committee determines that elections were improperly run, all four members who currently make up the WVDP leadership team would have their DNC memberships revoked and new elections would be held.

Charleston Police Pledge Better Equipment, More Training in Aftermath of West Side Shooting

Charleston Police Chief Tyke Hunt has responded to a letter from Mayor Amy Goodwin calling for more non-lethal weapons and training programs for the city’s police force. The mayor’s letter came days after Charleston Police officers shot Denaul Dickerson, a Black man, on Charleston’s West Side who officials say was brandishing a knife.

Chief Hunt’s newly announced plan included refitting the department’s shotguns to use non-lethal ammunition, and purchasing improved Tasers for officers to carry. Amid these changes, Dickerson and his family have said they plan on suing the city of Charleston in civil court.

Sitting on a park bench in South Charleston, Nicole Reinhardt said last winter, when she met Dickerson, her boyfriend, she was experiencing homelessness. And he helped her out.

“One night, he just offered me a place to stay. And I didn’t hesitate at all. As soon as I went into his house, or where he was staying, I literally, within 15 minutes, I was out. I was so tired from having to, like, sleep with one eye open all the time.”

Reinhardt said Dickerson’s generosity and kindness helped her feel safe at a difficult time in her life. Dickerson’s sister, Keyona Dickerson, who was sitting next to Reinhardt as she spoke, nodded her head in agreement, adding, “Yeah, that’s just how he was raised like that, to help others. You know, you got to help people, you know.”

Keyona Dickerson continued. “I understand her homelessness, you know, people have been homeless, we’ve been––I’ve been homeless, I mean, things happen, you know, to good people. But, this is out of control. You know, things is out of control right now.”

The two women said they are still trying to process what happened to Dickerson. About a month earlier, Dickerson was shot by police on Charleston’s West Side.

Denaul Dickerson was shot by Charleston Police after he threatened them publicly with a knife. Police had trouble locating Tasers. The incident has led to policing reforms.

Body-worn camera footage from the incident shows Dickerson holding a knife and yelling for police to kill him as he walks away from them. Charleston Police Department officers can be heard on the footage expressing disbelief that none of them are able to locate a Taser.

Their inquiry goes on for three minutes until an officer with a Taser arrives and fires it at Dickerson. But the Taser didn’t connect properly. Officers rushed in and when Dickerson turned to face them, they opened fire, hitting him three times.

In a press conference held later that day, reporters asked Hunt why officers weren’t able to find a Taser sooner. Hunt explained that Covid-19 had hampered his officers’ ability to renew their Taser training certification.

But a Freedom Of Information request by West Virginia Public Broadcasting showed the number of officers certified to carry Tasers the week Dickerson was shot had gone up since the outbreak of Covid–– from 34 officers in December 2019 to 36 officers in April 2021.

When asked for clarification, Hunt said he meant that Covid-19 had derailed scheduled training sessions that would have taken the total number of officers certified in Taser training from 36 to 57.

Since the shooting, Hunt has announced a plan to improve his department’s ability to respond with non-lethal force. He’s committed to using bean bag rounds in his department’s shotguns and purchasing new, more reliable Tasers–a model called the Taser 7.

“With that you get more of the pulse technology that comes with it. That’s the ability to incapacitate the muscles at a much higher rate. So, they would be a much more effective tool. And, they also have better accuracy when it comes to deployment. So, with the new Taser 7’s, we could possibly have ended the situation on April 30th a little bit differently.”

Speaking on a jail webcam during an interview, Dickerson said during his first few days in an Intensive Care Unit, he remembers coming in and out of consciousness. From the day he was shot, Dickerson spent almost a week in the ICU. He says he was handcuffed to his bed, holding his wrists up to a webcam from jail to show this reporter the markings he said came from the cuffs.

“And I’m talking about the officers who wouldn’t even hand me my little jug to use the bathroom and I used the bathroom myself probably like four or five times because they wouldn’t give me the jug.”

Dickerson was transferred from the ICU to a general care floor for one day before being taken to South Central Regional Jail and put in its medical facility. As he spoke with West Virginia Public Broadcasting, he was clutching the video machine, leaning off to his left side.

“My right leg is––it feels like it’s numb. Like, you know, it’s asleep,” he said. “And, then, like, the back of my neck, the bullet that hit me in the back of my neck and the bottom of my head. It’s been hurting really bad. Like, it keeps swelling up. I don’t know if there’s a fragment or something in there. Like, it’s just––it’s crazy. Like in my stomach….like, it’s bad.”

Michael Cary, an attorney who’s being retained by Dickerson’s family, said giving the officers more training and Tasers is essential. But what happened that day, Cary said it’s unacceptable.

Cary said the family plans on filing a civil suit with the City of Charleston in the near future.

“I think that it’s negligence. Not having your officers equipped with Tasers,” Cary said. “But, they’re here to protect and serve us, you know. And we just want the same amount of care that an officer would give any other person.”