As racial martyrs go, you could hardly do worse than Sylville Smith.
He was no Trayvon Martin or Tamir Rice, no unarmed innocent gunned down. No,Milwaukee police say Smith was an armed 23-year old with a lengthy arrest record -- drugs, weapons, robbery -- who bolted from a traffic stop Saturday afternoon. They say he ran a short distance, then wheeled around, gun in hand, refusing orders to drop it. Whereupon the police officer shot and killed him.
"I'm not going to say he was an angel," Smith's godmother, Katherine Mahmoud, told the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel.
The officer who killed him was a year older than Smith and black, like him. Though perceptions are obviously subject to change once body-cam footage is released, there is at this writing no reason to believe the officer acted improperly and, indeed, no serious allegation that he did. As such, this incident seems an unlikely focal point for public outrage.
That it became one anyway, that Smith's death sparked two nights of arson, shooting and general unrest, is an ominous sign. It suggests the rise of a species of anger inimical to any hope of racial reconciliation in Milwaukee -- and cities far beyond.
A certain amount of anger in the face of injustice is not necessarily a bad thing. Such anger -- defined as a passionate impatience with unfair status quo -- is often a necessary catalyst for progress. But when there is no progress even after long years, anger can intermix with frustration and despair and become something much less constructive.
It can become something that doesn't listen, doesn't reason, doesn't even hope. Something that simply explodes.
African Americans in Wisconsin's largest city say Smith's death was the last straw after years of racially stratified policing. It is hardly immaterial that an officer was not charged just two years ago in the controversial shooting death of a mentally ill black man. Or that the department is under Justice Department review which, to its credit, it requested.
Who will be shocked if that probe finds what other probes have found in cop shops around the country: patterns of institutionalized racism that corrode public trust and impinge the ability of police to do their jobs.
Unfortunately, there is a tendency, when such probes are done, to treat the affected department as unique, an outlier. Think of the person who sees a drop of water here, a drop of water there, another drop over there, yet somehow never perceives the storm.
It's worth noting, too, that Mike Crivello, president of the Milwaukee police union, issued a statement after the shooting to "denounce" the idea of racism in the department's ranks. Of course, no institution of any size can credibly make a blanket claim of freedom from bias, but that didn't stop him. That should tell you something.
Here's the thing: You get tired of being treated as an unreliable witness to your own experience. You get sick of not being heard. Black Milwaukee has complained for years about biased policing. Yet the police chief pronounced himself "surprised" by this uprising. Apparently, he hasn't been listening.
The rest of us would do well to avoid that mistake. If this unrest is an omen, it is also an opportunity -- for civic self-examination and accountability, for giving the people a voice, for listening to what they have to say. For making change.
This violence, following what might well have been a justified shooting, was tragic and troubling. But it also made one thing starkly clear. African Americans have been demanding justice a very long time.
And they're getting tired of asking nicely.
Leonard Pitts is a columnist for The Miami Herald; firstname.lastname@example.org.