I'm trying right now to find the right words to articulate the surreal inevitability of police-involved killings like this and the verdicts that follow. And I am not able to do it without repeating the millions of words I and countless others have already said when trying to find the right words to articulate the surreal inevitability of police-involved killings like this and the verdicts that follow. And it's not just the words that are repeated. It's the phrasing. The points. The punctuation. The pivots. The references. The rising action. The angles. The quotes. The climaxes. There doesn't seem to be much of a point in not making the entire process templatic, and changing/inserting relevant details about the city or the cop's name or the number of children the murdered Black person left behind when necessary. After you've skinned enough cats you eventually run out of cats.
Still, I'll try. Philando Castile is dead and the police officer who killed him is free — acquitted of all charges by a jury of his peers — because it's nigger hunting season and that's what's supposed to happen when something is in season. You buy a gun and some camo. You stalk them. You hunt them. You shoot them. And if the body's big enough you get a trophy. (Or perhaps just a raise.)