My oldest sister Stacie fell victim to extremely serious physical abuse in the early hours of Sunday morning. Her boyfriend kicked her to the ground, knocking her unconscious and then continued kicking her in her face and neck. The fact that her two sons, Cody (11) and Logan (10) were witnesses didn’t stop this monster from his brutal acts. My nephew Cody ran to the neighbors who then contacted police. In doing so, he saved his mothers life. Stacie was then rushed to Johns Hopkins shock trauma.

In the last picture, you can see Stacie is obviously a trooper. She was released to go home Monday night but is suffering from many facial fractures, cuts, bruises, and swelling. She is due back in a few days for her first facial surgery.


Below is Stacie’s “go fund me” please feel free to donate any amount in order to help Stacie and her boys start a new, safer life and to help towards many medical bills. Feel free to share Stacie’s story, in doing so, it could give someone the courage to leave a violent relationship they are suffering in.


Watch on jannaj06.tumblr.com

So disheartening!  This brutality has BEEN out of control, and it just keeps getting worse! My heart aches every time news like this is reported, and even more for incidents that aren’t even captured and publicized.  I can’t even fathom how this rogue officer concluded in his mind that his actions were just.  What type of mental clearance do officers go through before they are able to tote a gun and pin on a badge?  Though these kids still have their lives, this terrible situation will never and cannot be erased from memory.  I need more details on how this unfolded, but either way there’s no excuse how it was poorly handled.  There’s a reason why we are SCREAMING Black Lives Matter.  If we don’t who will?!?!

Our Three-Year Struggle to Get Chicago to Admit We Were Beaten by the Police

Later, after the beating, after the intimidation by police, after the hours and hours spent going through legal documents and telling our story at depositions, after the media fixed us in its gaze and then released us, people still asked us the question. It’s always the same question—they want reassurances that what happened to us couldn’t happen to them.

“Why did those cops attack you?”

Sometimes it’s an honest query; other times it sounds more like an accusation. It’s the same sort of question people ask when victims like Ferguson’s Michael Brown are killed by the police—what did they to do deserve being targeted?

More than four years after our attack, we still don’t know the answer. And we’re unable to reassure anyone, regardless of the color of their skin, that what happened to us won’t happen to them. All we know is that when we attempted to fight back we found out just how  deeply dysfunctional the system can be.

CHAPTER 1: The Assault

It was three in the morning on February 7, 2010, when our lives changed—not that we had any warning that the moment would hold any sort of significance. We were just two guys eating a late dinner at Arturo’s Tacos, a 24-hour Mexican joint known for selling burritos the size of mini-footballs in Chicago's  Logan Square neighborhood.

As we finished our meal, Greg stood to put his coat on in the narrow aisle of the restaurant and two men and a woman approached him. The first guy looked like a bodybuilder or a wannabe pro wrestler: a white dude with a concentrated, powerful build. The second guy was taller and slimmer but still muscular, with slicked-back hair and a leather jacket.

“What the fuck? Get out of my way!” barked the shorter one.

“What the hell? I’m just putting my coat on. I’ll be out of your way in one second,” Greg replied.

The man pushed Greg, and a waitress came over to see what was happening. Matt reassured her: “Everything’s fine. We’re not looking for any problems.”

The group slipped past us to the exit, and we thought that was the end of it. But after we went to the register and paid, we found them waiting for us in the small parking lot outside. As we neared Matt’s car, we could feel the tension ratchet up; the men were shouting obscenities as they moved toward us.

We didn’t want a fight with these lunatics, and as they neared us Greg kept saying, “Let’s just shake on it. We’re here out of peace. We’re not looking for any problems. Let’s just go home and forget about it.”

They weren’t having it. The shorter one charged at Greg a few times with balled fists, stopping just short of making contact, and then he made his move: He charged again, this time shoving Greg and swinging around to hit Matt with a vicious right hook. Within seconds both the men were on top of Matt, throwing him to the ground and pounding him repeatedly in his face with their fists.

Greg pulled the instigator off Matt and for a moment managed to pin his arms to his sides. But he broke free quickly, hit Greg in the head, then brought him to the ground with a practiced takedown maneuver and put him in a choke hold while kneeling behind him.

Matt, meanwhile, had blacked out when he was thrown to the ground, but the taller guy went on pummeling his head, tossing it from side to side. Matt’s eyes shot open as he woke to the sound of his own blood splashing on the ground. The woman who’d accompanied the two guys was now leaning over Matt, screaming, “Quit resisting! They’re cops! They’re going to beat your ass!”

Finally they stopped, either convinced by our pleas for mercy or simply tired of whaling on us. As they walked back to their car, Matt staggered to his feet, fishing his phone from his pocket while trying to make out the license plate of the vehicle the trio was getting into. As Matt dialed 911 in shock, he was just grasping the new reality: We’ve just been assaulted by some plainclothes cops, and they’re leaving.

The line rang, and in a heartbeat the taller man sprinted at Matt. You can hear him scream on the recorded 911 call, “Who the fuck are you calling?” just before he hit Matt hard enough to knock him several feet backward and into the wall. They were on Matt again in seconds—Greg rushed to pull them off once more, but they violently slammed the back of Greg’s head to the pavement. He lost consciousness.