AFTERMATH — A FOUND SONNET

by Susan Vespoli

—all words in the poem from a KJZZ Interview with Tom Maxedon

Susan Vespoli and her book One of Them Was Mine

What happened? Officer Lindo shot my son

in the back of his head. Blew everything

apart. In the face of powerlessness,

we should say his name: Adam Vespoli.

 

Phoenix Police Department Disciplin-

ary Review Board: cop was found out 

of policy. Immediately resigned. Freedom 

of Information Act. Aftermath. Coping

 

with grief. A molten slosh of pain. Healing

thoughts and hearts. My son, a big believer. 

My mission, words in mouth, to be his voice. 

Lawsuit resolved. Financial settlement. 

 

The    policeman    is    no     longer 

a policeman. He’s driving a truck in Texas.

Susan Vespoli writes from Phoenix, AZ and believes in the power of poetry to create change.

PICKING UP THE SETTLEMENT CHECK FROM MY SON’S WRONGFUL-DEATH CASE DURING THE ECLIPSE

by Susan Vespoli

My dead son was in the car 

with me as I drove to the lawyer’s

office to pick up my net-settlement check

and we drove past a laughing-Buddha chihuahua 

running against traffic down the center of Dunlap

 

and we drove through a split of mountain crags 

and we drove past a guy twirling and tossing a red-arrow 

sign at an intersection and my heart and gut felt on fire 

with raw grief and I said, “Well, here we are, Adam,” 

 

meaning the end of the lawsuit 

and even as I wanted to sob and flail

I could feel him smiling beside me, 

saying, there, there, like a benevolent cloud. 

 

When the paralegal handed me the check, 

she beamed as if we should don party hats, throw confetti 

and I wanted to pop every balloon in the place, 

wave the rectangular piece of paper in the air 

and say, this represents my son’s life.

 

Outside, humans were wearing tiny plastic glasses 

and looking up at the sun and the sky 

over the parking lot glowed fluorescent 

and this check felt like me saying it was okay the cop shot my son 

 

but I have fallen into a sort of love

with a man who is ironically a lawyer 

who has helped me interpret the mind-fuck 

of the legal system, understand that money the City 

of Phoenix had to pay caused them pain to spark change

 

and it is springtime on the planet 

where my son’s physical body is only a memory 

and there is a throng of 5’ tall sunflowers 

standing outside my bedroom window 

and the ocotillo in my front yard, mere sticks and thorns 

a month ago, is now covered with soft green and topped with flame-

colored flowers the wind flutters into candles on a cake.

Susan Vespoli lives in Phoenix, AZ, where citizens are still waiting for the release of the DOJ report regarding the Phoenix Police Department's excessive use of force. Her son, Adam, was killed by a police officer on March 12, 2022.

POEM FOR MY MIDDLE FINGER

by Susan Vespoli

with a nod to Catherine Pierce’s protest poems

“Fuck Authority” by Dan Colen, 2006, Oil on found painting

In protest I watch eight cops 

unload from their SUV, then strut

past me, a small granny with teal luggage 

waiting at the airport for a ride. 

In protest I say Beefcake. 

Fitted khaki pants and black polo 

shirts decaled with the word Police. 

Guns strapped to each man’s thigh 

with dark bands. In protest I say garter belts. 

In protest I say (in my head) I know 

what you did to my son. I saw the body 

cam. In protest, I glare. Puffed out chests 

and cocky swagger. In protest I say 

Mr. America patrol. I say rooster 

and remember the one that attacked 

my granddaughter at the peacock park. 

We thought it was a soft striped hen 

with a red mohawk until it high-kicked

its claws into her scalp. Blood spurted 

as she shrieked. In protest I say pull it in, 

dudes. Fold those football-player-sized egos

into cloth napkins at a memorial service. 

In protest I say humble. I say karma. I say

apologize. I want to scream, you don’t scare me, 

but remember my other kid saying, watch out, Mom. 

You’re gonna get yourself in trouble. In protest 

I say fuck Superman. I say fuck cultural authority. 

I bow down to sky, birds, dogs, poems, and peace.

Susan Vespoli lives in Phoenix, Arizona where she continues to write toward finding some sort of justice for her son, Adam Vespoli, who was shot and killed by police on March 12, 2022.

UNDER INVESTIGATION BY THE DOJ, PHOENIX POLICE DEPARTMENT REVISES USE OF FORCE POLICY

by Susan Vespoli

             “I think god has another plan for my life.” —Adam Vespoli, weeks before he was shot

City of Phoenix

solicits public input

on “Use of Force” policy.

        Officer Donnell Lindo, the cop who shot

               my son is gone.     

Core Principles: Goal 

of every encounter is

to resolve without force.

       Turned in his gun,

               his holster, badge.  

Employees shall make 

every effort to preserve 

sanctity of human life.

      was found by Critical

                Incident Review Board to be in the wrong.   

                Referred for discipline.

Employees shall respect, 

uphold value, rights, liberty,

dignity of all

      Resigned before he was fired.

                (Didn’t resign before he fired the gun.)  

persons at all times.

Always use de-escalation

tactics. Shall be held

      The cop who shot   my son 

                is gone.

accountable for

violating policy. 

Discharge of firearm. 

      Where’d he run?

“He no longer works for the department.” 

    —Clerk at Phoenix Police Public Records

Turned in his badge,

his bullets, gun.

Shooting person close 

range   in the head    is Deadly 

Force       always last resort.

My son is gone.

Author’s note: Words in italics are “found poem” from mail conversation with Police Records and "Use of Force" Proposal.

Susan Vespoli writes from Phoenix, Arizona where she continues to write toward finding some sort of justice for her son, Adam Vespoli, who was shot and killed by police on March 12, 2022.

Editor's Note: The New Verse News previously published five of long-time contributor Susan Vespoli's poems about the killing of her son by police:  "Before I Knew Adam Had Died" and "My Ex-Husband Calls To Tell Me Our Son Has Been Shot By Police," "Police Violence in Reverse," "Dear 2022," and “I Am Finally Handed the Critical Incident Review Board Report.”

I AM FINALLY HANDED THE CRITICAL INCIDENT REVIEW BOARD RESULTS

AFTER 4 TRIPS, 3 EMAIL STRINGS, AND 5 PHONE CALLS TO POLICE RECORDS

by Susan Vespoli

At Police Records, commercial planes shoot over the parking lot,

one by one. Big silver underbellies thunder, cast shadow.

Inside, clerks stand behind glass windows like bank tellers 

as we wait our turns to pay tickets or request documents, 

give tracking numbers, ask again and again, Is it ready yet? 

And the answer is no, no, no, and reminds me of selling

Girl Scout calendars as a little girl, asking face

after face of those who say no before door slams.

But at Police Records, people slump in chairs,

vending machines drop corn nuts and M&Ms. 

A piece of paper is Scotch taped to the plastic back 

of a lobby chair, handwritten in black marker: “Broken.”

Author’s note: Critical Incident Review Board—Its purpose is to review officer involved shooting, use of force incidents resulting in serious injury or death...to determine and recommend to the Police Chief whether the actions of a police officer were appropriate or if they violated Police Department policies or orders.

Susan Vespoli lives in Phoenix, AZ where she continues to write toward finding some sort of justice for her son, Adam Vespoli, who was shot and killed by police on March 12, 2022.

Editor's Note: The New Verse News previously published four of long-time contributor Susan Vespoli's poems about the killing of her son by police:  "Before I Knew Adam Had Died" and "My Ex-Husband Calls To Tell Me Our Son Has Been Shot By Police," "Police Violence in Reverse," and "Dear 2022."