In September I went to New York, and they offered me this deal: one day of community service, with the charges to be dismissed after six months. My lawyer said that it was a very, very gutsy move not to take the deal. I don't think I realized quite fully how much of a risk it was. My lawyer had told me, "You're risking up to two years in jail for all this." But to accept the deal felt like admitting guilt.
The charges against Pero were dismissed. I was still hoping that during that month between September 9 and October 5, they were going to drop the charges against me, too. I never had more than six hours’ sleep the whole month. I would wake up at 4:30 in the morning, and the first thing that would pop in my mind was, This is really going on. I lost 15 pounds that month from the stress.
My mom was very scared for me. She said, "You're going against a big system. Don't stick your neck out too far." My wife and dad were outraged and in disbelief. He's from South Africa; he was in a band that was really active in denouncing the old apartheid movement. To think of this happening to his son in the streets of New York City in 2015—and I don't really want to make it as a racial thing. I want to let people make up their own minds.
The charges were obstruction of governmental administration, disorderly conduct, and resisting arrest. At the beginning of the trial, my lawyer showed new video clips his team uncovered and got the first cop to agree that I was complying with his order, that I was not committing a crime. It was great. The most ludicrous thing to listen to was that I charged an officer. I would never do that. They were trying to make it seem like they had a reason to arrest me. I'm sure that when you break someone's leg and you have video of one officer taking a baton out, you have a lot on the line.
The D.A. said that I'm entitled and disdainful. It hurt, in a way. That easy and simplistic categorization of athletes: Oh, he's an NBA player, he's entitled, he's got money. Like, you don't know anything about me. Why don't you look at facts?
The video was huge. It was everything. I really believe that without it, Pero and I could be behind bars right now. Because if you don't have real proof that you didn't do it and you have five, six officers saying that you did…
My coach came to New York to testify as a character witness. He said that one of the main things that the Hawks are doing now is building a team around good character; that's a big part of how they select players. From a while back, he said, he knew what type of a player I am, what I bring on and off the court. He said I was one of his priority recruits when he became head coach of the Hawks [in 2013]. It was emotional, hearing him say those things, me feeling that I let the team down and him having my back like this. He was incredible throughout the whole ordeal.
There was never any question about whether I would testify. No, let me tell them how I experienced the whole thing. My lawyer went over things with me once, just for an overall view of some of the questions that could come. I paid for my own representation. I don't really want to answer the question of how much it cost, but yeah, it's not cheap.
I think the jury had made their minds up early. The burden was on the police to show proof of me doing anything wrong, and they didn't come with any other proof than five officers testifying to the exact same story. They didn't really try to find footage, they didn't really try to find other witnesses. The jury made the right decision, and it didn't take them long. I think it's a testimony of how they felt about the whole thing.
I was a little surprised by how some of the media related the story. Instead of giving me the benefit of the doubt or just waiting for more information, in the eyes of many I was guilty of doing something wrong. Now that the verdict has been reached, I've definitely had a lot more texts now than when I got arrested. A lot of people who weren't there over the last six months reaching out: "We never doubted it." Yeah.
I think there should be some sort of consequences for those officers for breaking my leg and not allowing me to play during the playoffs, and for me to still be recovering and not fully myself six months after that. The distress that I went through. I'm letting my agents and my lawyer figure things out. It's ongoing. Right now I want to concentrate on the season. I think I can help bring some light on the issue, but I don't think it's on me to be the face of a movement. Playing basketball is what I love to do.
It's tough to think about what I could have done differently. I could have run two blocks away as quickly as I could. But in my mind, the police are under the same laws we are. Did I do something wrong because I said you can talk to me in a nicer way? What would I do the next time it happens? Well, I'll probably run next time. I'll probably say, "I don't want any part of this" and move as fast as I can.
It was an act of police brutality, and I believe it could happen to anyone. Now I'm a lot more aware of everything that goes on. I've been, I don't want to say disillusioned, but brought back to earth in a harsh way. I look at videos of police brutality on YouTube or CNN.com. The other day I was watching this woman getting punched by the police for recording them arresting her husband. In a situation like this, you are helpless. If there's six people jumping me outside of the club, I scream, "Police, police!" If the police are doing this to me, who you want me to turn to?
