Justice, Accountability, and What Love Requires

This is a hard one. 

So many lives have been changed forever because of what happened at that track meet. As people of faith, as community leaders, and as people who care deeply about justice, we will likely find ourselves in many conversations about this tragedy in the days ahead. 

Our goal at CRS is to prepare and support our leaders to be in thoughtful conversations with their communities and congregations.  

There is a tendency in moments like these to argue the facts, and in so doing, we lose the plot. 

There is a tendency to argue legal terms, and in so doing, we step away from the human experience at the center of this story. 

There is a tendency to pick sides, and in so doing, we rupture relationships and deepen division. 

And there is a temptation to remain silent, and in so doing, we surrender our moral responsibility to help imagine a better way. 

So what does the world require of us in this moment? 

First, we send love and compassion to the family of Austin Metcalf. Words are insufficient to describe what they must be experiencing. Their son, their loved one, should still be alive. The circle of their family has been broken in a way that cannot be undone. Their grief is real, and it deserves our care. 

We also hold Karmelo Anthony and his family in love and compassion. Their lives, too, have been forever altered. Whatever happens next, the circle of their family has also been broken. They are carrying fear, uncertainty, and pain that few of us can fully understand. 

Everyone involved has been touched by tragedy. Everyone involved is living with consequences that cannot be reversed. 

As leaders of faith communities, it is impossible to ignore the public conversation that has emerged in the aftermath. Many people have pointed to a long history in which Black people have struggled to have claims of self-defense taken seriously. Others see the situation differently. There will be courts and legal proceedings that attempt to answer certain questions. 

But people of faith are called to ask deeper questions than the courts can answer. 

With every fiber of my being, I wish no knife had been present that day. 

With every fiber of my being, I wish no young person had felt threatened, afraid, cornered, or compelled to respond in violence. 

With every fiber of my being, I wish Austin were still alive. 

And with every fiber of my being, I wish that justice did not so often require us to choose between grief for one family and concern for another. 

But wishes cannot change history. 

We cannot undo what happened at that track meet. 

What we can do is ask what justice looks like now. 

Too often in our society, justice is reduced to punishment. Justice becomes a prison sentence. Justice becomes another life discarded. Justice becomes another young Black person swallowed by a system that has rarely demonstrated a commitment to healing anyone involved. 

But punishment and healing are not the same thing. 

The questions before us are: 

What would justice look like if the carceral state were not our only answer? 

What would accountability look like? 

How could Karmelo be held accountable in ways that honor the seriousness of what occurred? 

How could Austin's family be surrounded with care, support, and pathways toward healing? 

How could communities learn from this tragedy? 

How could we teach our children that intimidation, threats, violence, and retaliation are unacceptable ways of resolving conflict? 

How could we create conditions where fewer families ever have to endure this kind of pain? 

These are not easy questions. They are, however, necessary questions. 

As you move through the world carrying the heaviness of this moment, and as you speak with family, friends, neighbors, and fellow congregants, I invite you to resist the temptation to rewrite history, rush to judgment, or reduce complex human lives to political talking points. 

Instead, let us commit ourselves to the harder work of imagining justice beyond punishment and accountability beyond incarceration. 

As you move through all this, remember the invitation from Dr. King: justice is what love looks like in public. 

Love in public does not ignore harm. 

Love in public does not refuse accountability. 

Love in public tells the truth about suffering. 

Love in public seeks healing for those who have been wounded. 

And love in public refuses to accept that the routine discarding of Black lives and Black futures is an acceptable response to tragedy. 

May we have the courage to pursue that kind of justice now. 

We invite those who want to do community healing and restorative justice work to join CRS.

With Love …,

Keron Blair
Temporary Acting Executive Director

And the staff of Community Renewal Society