By Megan Lamont

As graduation season approaches, students at Bradley University reflect on their time on the so-called Hilltop. The school sits literally atop a hill, separated from the rest of Peoria by a number of steep inclined roads. On the edge of campus sits Moss Avenue, a historic street with elegant homes and the kinds of trees that flower in the springtime.

Yet just miles away lie some of Peoria’s most marginalized and crime-ridden neighborhoods. South Arago Street sits two miles from Bradley’s campus, a street that suffered the murder of a 12-year-old girl who was sitting at home watching television during the summer of 2016.

Even with violence so close, the idea of the “Bradley bubble” endured for years: that students at Bradley were generally immune from the violence of the surrounding neighborhoods. Sure, there was gun violence in “those” neighborhoods, but at Bradley, you can walk home from the library at night or go to a party and not have to worry, right?

The bubble was burst in the early hours of April 8, 2018.

…

In 2011, a man named David Kennedy published a book called “Don’t Shoot.” It detailed a radical new approach to reducing violence: rehabilitation of the criminals by showing them that they have value in their communities, rather than simply punishing them for their wrongdoing.

Kennedy paid a visit to Peoria to present his message to city officials, after which they decided a Don’t Shoot campaign would be of great benefit to the community.

Diane Brown, a community leader and member of Indivisible Peoria, said the program started with good intentions.

“The program had a social work component to make sure that people engaging in violence weren’t further angered,” Brown said. “But instead, it more turned into bringing in black men to harass them, not help them.”

Don’t Shoot was led by law enforcement, creating a conflict of interest as the police are often the source of the conflict itself in marginalized communities.

Four years ago, Peoria Community Against Violence (PCAV) emerged as a sort of grassroots, community-centered arm of the Don’t Shoot campaign. Unlike Don’t Shoot, PCAV’s mission was to be proactive, not reactive, in preventing violence in Peoria. However, PCAV too was governed by a board of city and law enforcement officials, including Mayor Jim Ardis, State’s Attorney Jerry Brady, the police chief and the sheriff.

Terry Burnside, a lead volunteer for PCAV, warned the board of this problem.

“One of the things PCAV was doing on a regular basis was events called Stand Up for Peace,” Burnside said. “After a homicide or other violent act was committed, we would organize a sort of prayer vigil to bring people together and talk about what happened. But people didn’t want to come because of PCAV’s ties to law enforcement.”

Burnside specifically mentioned the incident of Eddie Russell Jr., 25, who was shot 17 times by Peoria police officers after allegedly robbing a bank. State’s Attorney Brady ruled the officers did not act improperly; nevertheless, the ordeal was a source of controversy and distress for the Peoria community. Russell’s family refused to attend the Stand Up for Peace event in his honor due to the role law enforcement played in governing PCAV.

“When there is a police-related shooting, people aren’t going to support PCAV if they see it as an extension of the police,” Burnside said. “We can’t grow our membership and expand our message if we don’t have participation from families.”

Burnside said his plea for a change in board leadership was largely ignored until two Caterpillar community relations employees came to a PCAV meeting. They essentially told the board what Burnside had been saying for a full year.

“When they came in, the board suddenly agreed and decided it was time for a change,” Burnside said. “I’d been saying it for months, and then they came in, and suddenly ten minutes later, it clicked with the board.”

When the board finally agreed a change was necessary, they decided Burnside was not part of the new direction. Mayor Ardis asked him to step down from his role with PCAV on April 5.

Burnside was not angered by their decision. “I stand for what PCAV does and always will,” he said. “I’m going to keep helping. I’m still involved, just not with a formal title. It’s not about titles, anyway.”

Diane Brown stands behind Burnside: “He is by far one of the most effective leaders in standing up to violence in Peoria,” she said. “One of the most respected.”

Why, then, did city officials remove him?

…

Valentine’s Day is an otherwise happy day, now forever stained as the anniversary of the Stoneman Douglas High School shooting that claimed the lives of 17 students and faculty. The surviving students took to social media to express their sorrow, igniting the #NeverAgain movement which culminated on March 24 with the March for Our Lives rally in Washington D.C. Over 800,000 attended in the nation’s capital, with hundreds of thousands more marching across the world.

Katherine Ragon, a senior electrical engineering major at Bradley University, helped organize the Peoria March for Our Lives event. She is also the youngest member of the nearby Creve Coeur school board.

“After the Stoneman shooting, we came together at our next meeting to talk about it. . . . we just knew we couldn’t let something like this happen at our school.”

Ragon felt called to action and, through Facebook connections, organized the march alongside Diane Brown and two students from Dunlap High School.

The day of the march did not go entirely as planned. A massive snowstorm, not uncommon for late March in Illinois, closed many roads or made them unnavigable. Still, Ragon was pleased with a turnout of 250 people.

“Even in the snow, I think it says a lot that people were willing to turn out,” she said. “It shows how important this issue is to people.”

Ragon serves as a mentor to a number of high school students from the Creve Coeur district, where she herself was a student. That made the tragedy of the Stoneman attack all the more impactful.

“Imagining something like that happening to someone I know, someone that I care for, it’s really more than anyone can bear to think about,” she said. “And we aren’t seeking radical solutions. It’s common sense.”

What may seem common sense to some is highly divisive to others. She said her own relatives and acquaintances at Bradley responded negatively to the viewpoints she shared online.

“People say things on Facebook or Twitter they would never actually say in person,” she laments. “We just need both sides to listen to each other. Liberals are guilty of it too — it’s not just conservatives who need to be more open-minded.”

The Stoneman shooting and the #NeverAgain movement changed the conversation on gun violence, at least temporarily. The students-turned-activists reignited the grief and frustration of Columbine, Virginia Tech, Sandy Hook and so many others. And for a brief time afterward, as seen after any mass shooting, there was hope that maybe real change was finally possible, even in the Trump administration.

“I am no fan of Donald Trump,” Ragon said, “but I was really happy to see him support a ban on bump stocks. Now with the midterms coming up, we need to elect more people who support that type of legislation and take it a step further.”

At the state and national level, she remains somewhat hopeful the effective changes are coming.

“If anything, it’s starting a conversation. We can’t make change without starting a conversation.”

When asked about the incident at Bradley, her optimism visibly faded.

“I don’t know if I should say this. . . I know they want to show the university in good light for parents and prospective students. But I’m disappointed in their response to what has happened here.”

…

Dear Campus Community,

Bradley University has suffered a tragic loss. A shooting overnight has claimed two lives, one of which is a student of ours. Nasjay Murry, a freshman Biomedical Science (Pre-Med) major from Chicago, died overnight at an off-campus residence located in the 1800 block of Bradley Ave (at the intersection of Bradley Ave and Western Ave). The second victim is not known to have an affiliation with Bradley.

The above statement was emailed to students at on the morning of April 8, ten hours after the 1:41 a.m. safety alert notifying campus of a shooting and shattering the infamous Bradley bubble.

Even after being stripped of his position at PCAV just three days prior to the shooting, Terry Burnside promptly pulled together community leaders and clergy to hold a vigil in her honor on the same day she died.

Burnside did not have much interaction with Bradley community prior to the incident.

“My heart goes out to the family of the young lady who died. I discourage violence in any form and in all groups. And the response to her death shows the tension in this community,” Burnside said. “They [city officials and law enforcement] are so focused on the Bradley student. Council members immediately lashed out to condemn the shooting. Where was this when people in the streets are killed? They’ve taken a blind eye to what happens in their own communities.”

As stated in the email from the university, there was a second victim in the homicide, with no affiliation with Bradley.

Burnside was not to say that the difference in response is not necessarily racially motivated. He merely said it is “biased.”

But the unspoken answer lingers in the air: law enforcement cares more about white lives than black lives. And their response to Nasjay’s death, a black student, suggests black lives have more value when they are being educated at a private university.

Soon after the shooting, five Bradley buildings were vandalized, each with a single word in black spray paint. Putting together the sentence was like a scavenger hunt, eventually forming a simple but powerful statement: Gary. Roberts. Hates. Black. People.

Gary Roberts is the president of Bradley. The graffiti was scrubbed away almost immediately and the artist is still unknown.

“I think there will be people who criticize anything — no one is perfect. I think it’s important that university finds out who spray painted it, because if it’s someone from the campus community, they need to help them. But you also can’t vandalize school property. It was difficult to see,” said Jalyn Prewitt.

Prewitt is a senior at Bradley and works in the admissions office as a student representative and tour guide. She is also black.

“I don’t think it’s fair to say President Roberts hates black people. In fact, he was with the Bradley University Black Alumni Association when they came to campus just a few weeks ago. He met with them throughout their weekend reunion,” she said.

The Black Alumni Association came to campus on the same weekend as Nasjay’s funeral.

Prewitt believes Bradley did the best they could in their response to the shooting. The administration, she said, did a good job of supporting the student groups that organized events to honor Nasjay, including the student-led vigil.

From a public relations standpoint, she admits it has been tough. Other student tour guides have come back from their tours confused and concerned about how to address parents and prospective students who want to know more.

“PR is important. . . We need to protect the case and to protect the university. Rumors spread and makes things worse. Then you need damage control and it’s not fair to the people who are trying to heal and survive,” Prewitt said.

Nasjay’s death happened nearly two months after the Stoneman Douglas shooting and three weeks after Ragon proudly marched on the Riverfront to end gun violence.

“After Parkland, I just felt so sad. I had to delete social media for a few days because I couldn’t bear to read about all of it,” Ragon said. “But after Nasjay died, I just felt angry. We just had this march to show that we are all going to stand up to gun violence and it was filled with so much hope. And then something like this happens.”

…

So why did Mayor Ardis and the rest of the PCAV board remove Burnside in the first place?

“I suspect they were offended by some of the things I said, like when I told them that we needed to be separate from law enforcement to have any credibility,” he said plainly. “But like I said, I’m not here for a title. I will support PCAV always.”

Diane Brown said Burnside posted a video on Facebook with his son. The two performed a PSA-style rap together about what to do when approached by the police. She suspects this is the reason the board pushed him out, but Burnside did not confirm nor deny this.

PCAV will hold elections within the next month to determine their new leadership board, after finally freeing itself from the problematic governance of law enforcement. Mayor Ardis evidently approached another candidate to fill Burnside’s position, but the candidate turned down the role because “he had too much respect for Terry.”

Burnside plans to run for the now-open chair position on the PCAV board.

“If people want me to remain part of the organization and have that title, I will happily do so,” he said. “I’m dedicated to this. I want to see PCAV succeed and grow our membership. I see the potential it has.”

…

None of these events paint an optimistic picture for reducing gun violence in Peoria, which continues to top Illinois’ list of most violent cities year after year. The Bradley double homicide broke down the barrier formerly separating the university from its surrounding troubles.

Mikki Tran, the student body president for the upcoming 2018 school year, said Nasjay’s death shed light on aspects of campus safety that need improvement. She believes the relationships between the surrounding community and Bradley University is still strong.

“I do think that the Peoria community and Bradley still has a great relationship despite the incident because there has been a long-standing relationship before and we hope to continue it after the fact. I hope for cooperation and to work past the tension that was once there.”

For Terry Burnside, the tension that “was once there” never quite went away. In fact, it has only just begun.