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Shades of Gray in Orange

After a black police officer kills a white war hero, a town begins its murky search for justice.
by Published on
Military veterans and James Whitehead’s family and friends rallied at the Orange County Courthouse in December 2010 demanding “Justice for James.”
Guiseppe Barranco/The Beaumont Enterprise
Military veterans and James Whitehead’s family and friends rallied at the Orange County Courthouse in December 2010 demanding “Justice for James.”


The town that welcomes interstate drivers from Louisiana into Texas’ muggy southeastern corner is a charming break from the surrounding swamps and refineries. Orange is a town of a little under 20,000 that was, from its earliest days, the beneficiary of logging fortunes made in the pine forests to the north and a port on the Sabine River near the Gulf of Mexico. Timber barons built ornate wooden mansions in the 1890s, some of which still stand today, maintained by family foundations that also support Orange’s art museums, theater and a shiny new waterfront promenade. On a wall downtown, an old tourist map recommends a drive down Chemical Row, past plants whose fumes sometimes shut down traffic.

It’s past Chemical Row, in a house in Bridge City, where James Whitehead grew up in the ’90s, tall and gangly, with long hair and a patchy beard. He loved the movie Full Metal Jacket and knew someday he would become a Marine. He enlisted in 2002 despite his father’s warning that war seemed likely. The U.S. invasion of Iraq was, indeed, just months away. At training camp in San Diego he cleaned up: buzzed hair, clean-shaven face and dress uniform—the picture of a proud, square-jawed American soldier. But the training changed more than his appearance. On a trip home before his 2004 tour in Iraq, he came back full of new violent bravado, once telling his sister he hoped he’d get to shoot a pregnant woman: two kills with one shot. During two tours in Iraq he was honored for his quick instincts and bravery. Fellow Marines called him “Animal.” In Iraq’s dangerous western Anbar province in late 2004, with his team caught in an ambush, Whitehead ran into the open, bullets scattering the sand at his feet, and took out the machine-gunner who’d pinned them down. Marines with him that day said he saved their lives.

James Whitehead
Courtesy Brandy Boyett
James Whitehead

Whitehead amassed what one friend calls “a high kill rate” during his two tours. He wanted a third—“I want to be in the sand,” he often said—but never got it. He was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, and though he remained in the Reserve for a while after his return, he was discharged in 2007 after failing too many times to report to weekend training in Houston.

He got work but couldn’t keep it. He became a loner, quieter after his return, and spent his days cooking, playing with his young daughter, HeavenLeigh, and navigating the paperwork for his military benefits. He became friends with his veterans’ service officer in Orange County, Ken Cavaretta, a Vietnam veteran who helped Whitehead secure disability payments for the PTSD and an injury he’d suffered on duty. Cavaretta became Whitehead’s confidant in post-war life, someone to drop in on unannounced to share kolaches and vent. Cavaretta confronted Whitehead when a Veterans Affairs doctor noted that he showed little remorse for killing. “He said, ‘I know, I didn’t,’” Cavaretta remembers. “And his eyes welled up. He said, ‘Ken, they can’t see the tears in my heart.’”

Whitehead might have spent years wearing his war stories thin, remembered at the end of his life for his time in uniform. Instead, his sister, Brandy Boyett, says now, “What my brother’s entire life is being based on is that last five minutes.”


Whitehead’s father, Vernon, says James was never “mechanically inclined”—in high school, he’d once spent four and a half hours trying to change his oil—but on July 26, 2010, he’d been fixing up a red Chevy truck for his girlfriend, and by 5 p.m. he nearly had it running. All he needed was a new starter, so he asked his friend Randy Edwards for a ride to the store. Whitehead may have been self-medicating with marijuana and ibuprofen that day—tests later found THC in his system—and he may have taken more than his prescribed dose of the stimulant Adderall; his four-day-old prescription bottle was later found to be missing a few pills. He was in good spirits when he, Edwards, and Whitehead’s uncle, Robert Franken, arrived at O’Reilly Auto Parts on 16th Street in Orange. His plan was to exchange a part he’d bought earlier that day—a valve he’d realized he didn’t need—for a new starter. But when the manager said he couldn’t take the valve back because it had already been installed, Whitehead snapped.

Whitehead shouted that he hadn’t installed the part, slammed it on the counter, and began cursing and calling the manager names. Wearing a greasy Jägermeister T-shirt and beige shorts, with hair down over his ears, Whitehead was no longer the clean-cut military man he’d once been. But with his long, swinging arms and booming voice, he could still intimidate. “I want my fucking money back, and I’ll be fucking gone,” he yelled, according to a statement by one of a dozen witnesses. As Whitehead continued to yell, the manager called 911 and described the irate customer across the counter: “Six-foot-three,” the manager said. Whitehead butted in: “I’m fucking 230 pounds!” A customer behind him in line stepped up and asked Whitehead not to swear in front of his daughter.

Captain Robert Arnold was the highest-ranking African-American officer in the history of the Orange Police Department.
Courtesy Orange Police Department
Captain Robert Arnold was the highest-ranking African-American officer in the history of the Orange Police Department.

That customer was Robert Arnold, an off-duty policeman who’d brought his teenage daughter to get a battery for her four-wheeler. Arnold grew up in Orange in a law enforcement family. His father had been a city policeman, and his uncle was still on the force. Arnold himself was a former state trooper, and two months earlier, after six years with the Orange Police Department, had become the first black officer in the department’s history to reach the rank of captain.

“Nigga, I’ll bust you in the fucking face,” Whitehead said, stepping closer with his hands balled into fists at his side. According to some witness statements, Arnold identified himself as a police officer, but Whitehead’s temper was unchanged. “What are you gonna do, fucking arrest me or something?” he yelled. “Get away from me, nigger.”

“You called it,” Arnold said, telling Whitehead to wait, and leaving his daughter at the counter with a store employee.

“Go ahead, you fucking coon,” Whitehead yelled, continuing to spew hate. “I’ll whip your ass,” Whitehead told the manager. “I bet you’re a queer, huh? You look like a fucking faggot.” Edwards told Whitehead they should leave, and as they started for the door the manager reminded Whitehead to take the valve he’d left on the counter. Whitehead grabbed it and walked out.

In the parking lot, Arnold had gone to his Chevy Tahoe to get handcuffs and a flashlight. Witnesses say Arnold approached Whitehead. Whitehead yelled, “You gonna arrest me, nigger? You gonna arrest me, coon?” He bumped chests with Arnold, still yelling, and then walked back to Edwards’ truck, which was parked by the store’s entrance. Arnold followed him. Whitehead started to open the door of Edwards’ truck and Arnold, fearing he might be reaching for a weapon, held the door to block his way. Searching his wallet for his police ID, Arnold first produced the wrong card, searched again, and then held up what most witnesses agree was his police ID card. (Edwards maintains that the second card was something else, and that Arnold never properly identified himself as an officer.) Arnold held out a pair of handcuffs and told Whitehead to put them on. “You’re not even a cop!” Whitehead yelled. He continued shouting “nigger” and “coon” as he and Arnold bumped chests beside the truck. Whitehead leaned down and pressed his forehead into Arnold’s. Stepping back, Arnold pulled a short-barreled .38-caliber pistol from his pocket and pointed it at Whitehead. “Go ahead, shoot me, motherfucker,” Whitehead told him, swatting Arnold’s arm.

“If you hit me, I am going to have to shoot you,” the manager remembers Arnold warning. Whitehead lunged at Arnold and said, “I want you to put a bullet in my head, you fucking coon.”

According to some witnesses, Whitehead then lunged again and reached for Arnold’s gun. Arnold fired once, hitting Whitehead in the chest. (Edwards says Whitehead was already in the truck when he was shot; the pathologist who performed Whitehead’s autopsy later agreed that Whitehead was likely seated when he was shot.) As blood began to soak Whitehead’s T-shirt, Edwards says, his friend stood one last time and said, “Motherfucker, you just shot me.” Edwards remembers Arnold’s reply—“I damn sure did shoot you”—and the angry look on his face.

Four minutes and four seconds after his first call to 911, the O’Reilly Auto Parts manager called again: “I’m going to need a meat wagon with that, too, please.” The first police car arrived moments later. Whitehead was pronounced dead soon after.

Early the next morning, Texas Ranger Ken Parks arrived at Orange police headquarters to begin his investigation, and offered officers some words of encouragement. “This is a good shoot,” he said, meaning the shooting was justified, so his work would be brief. Parks combined the forensic evidence, 13 witness statements and his own interviews into a report released a few weeks later. Parks was a key witness—and possibly the only one—when a grand jury convened in November and decided that Arnold had been justified in shooting Whitehead.

It was only the third time an Orange police officer had killed someone in at least 25 years, and the shooting generated even more attention because the officer is black and the man he shot was white. Controversy grew after Edwards started speaking out, stressing that his friend had been unarmed and calling the shooting a murder. Without a criminal charge against Arnold, the town’s attention turned to his boss, Police Chief Sam Kittrell.

After his outburst at the O’Reilly Auto Parts store, James Whitehead was shot in the parking lot outside, just to the right of the doors.
Patrick Michels
After his outburst at the O’Reilly Auto Parts store, James Whitehead was shot in the parking lot outside, just to the right of the doors.


Kittrell was a respected leader in Orange—in 2008 he’d been named the Orange County Record’s Person of the Year—with a reputation for honesty under pressure. After more than 20 years as chief, he’d been quietly preparing for retirement, and in the week before the shooting he’d even tipped local reporters about his plans.

Kittrell grew up in Orange and was studying to become a teacher when he took a job as a sheriff’s dispatcher. He later dropped out of school to take a job as an officer in nearby Vidor, a town still regarded as a hotbed of racial violence thanks in part to incidents Kittrell investigated during his tenure there from 1975 to 1987. Vidor had around 12,000 people at the time, and multiple chapters of the Ku Klux Klan. It was a different era in the police department, too. Kittrell remembers a shotgun rack on the wall with four slots but only three shotguns—the bottom rung held an electric cattle prod for interrogations. Kittrell broke the case of the 1976 murder of a Dallas police officer after hearing a Vidor teen named David Harris brag about having witnessed it. In Errol Morris’ documentary about the case, The Thin Blue Line, Kittrell appears as the fresh-faced man of justice opposite the cynical Dallas legal machine that put the wrong man on death row.

Kittrell retuned to Orange at what he remembers as a low point in race relations between police and the black community. It was 1987 and the city seemed poised to appoint its first black police chief. Kittrell applied for the job as a sort of lark—he says he wanted to see what the process was like. Instead, he became the City Council’s first choice, though the Council members knew he’d be a tough sell as a white man coming from Vidor. The Council chambers were overflowing on the night the council members were set to vote him in. Kittrell remembers a black woman telling Councilman Martin Thomen, “I want you to know that after this vote, if tonight I walk by your house and your house is on fire, and you’re climbing out the window, I’m pushing you back in.”

When he took the job, Kittrell ended the department’s tradition of benign neglect in the projects on the city’s east side. He met with pastors and established a community liaison position within the department. During his years as chief, he says, he hired more minority officers, including Arnold, than anyone before him. “I was hoping that Robert was coming along and that he would be a good leader and a source of pride for the department, and for the black community,” Kittrell says now.

But at the end of his career in Orange, he faced a decision that would color his legacy and test the principles he’d sworn by: whether to follow the grand jury’s lead and keep Arnold on the force, or fire him and set off a long, expensive fight with the police union. He explained his reasoning to a lawyer a year later: “I am a part of this community. I know the community, and I know the community as a whole would just not tolerate the fact that—you know, what kind of police department do you have if you have a person that can go out here and do wrong and a person dies as a result of that, and you’re going to put him back here on the streets?”

Kittrell made his decision days after Arnold was no-billed by the grand jury. He suspended Arnold indefinitely—effectively firing him—and explained his reasoning in the form of a 38-page letter to Arnold, which he emailed to the press. Kittrell addresses Arnold in the second-person throughout, invoking witness statements and Arnold’s disciplinary history, as well as Kittrell’s private conversations with Arnold about what happened. Kittrell had called Arnold back for repeated interviews, trying to understand what made Arnold shoot, giving him the chance to assert that—as some witnesses claimed—Whitehead had reached for a gun. Kittrell says Arnold never said it.

In his open letter to Arnold, Kittrell focused not on whether the shooting was justified but whether Arnold had behaved in accordance with the department’s standards. Why hadn’t Arnold considered using a Taser instead of his gun? Why didn’t Arnold wait for the backup he knew was on the way? Kittrell also reviewed incidents in Arnold’s record he says amounted to a troubling pattern: the time he’d punched a girl in the face, and the time he’d swung a pipe at a violent suspect, but missed and broken the leg of his own uncle, who was also at the scene, instead. In each of those cases, Arnold had faced a disciplinary review and been cleared. Still, in his five years with the department, Arnold had racked up the department’s highest rate of use-of-force incidents. In 2004, just before Arnold left the Department of Public Safety for the Orange police force, Arnold’s wife said in an affidavit that he’d choked and hit her. Kittrell confronted Arnold about that incident, and Arnold reassured him that he didn’t have anger issues. “I no longer believe that,” Kittrell wrote in his open letter, “and I no longer have confidence in your ability to serve as a Captain in the Orange Police Department.”

To those who viewed Whitehead’s death as an injustice, there was some vindication in seeing Arnold let go. But they wanted more.


After years of legal battles, James Whitehead’s supporters say they’re still waiting for justice.
Guiseppe Barranco/The Beaumont Enterprise
After years of legal battles, James Whitehead’s supporters say they’re still waiting for justice.

Ken Cavaretta was headed to work when he heard on the radio that his friend Whitehead had been killed. At his office that day, he was irate. Harold Hass, a retired Orange policeman who’d come by for his own benefits claim, overheard Cavaretta complaining, and the two talked about the shooting. When the grand jury no-billed Arnold in November, the two formed a team they called “Justice for James.”

Hass says the chief should have insisted that someone other than Ranger Parks handle the investigation after Parks was so quick to declare it a “good shoot.” Hass and Cavaretta believe District Attorney John Kimbrough went easy on Arnold to avoid conflict with the police union. They wanted Kimbrough to bring Arnold back in front of a grand jury, but they needed to find new evidence to convince him. They began re-interviewing witnesses, collecting news clips and compiling notebooks of information they felt had been overlooked or misrepresented in the press. After learning when and where an unrelated grand jury was meeting—a meeting room at police headquarters—they showed up with a local news reporter and hand-delivered the evidence they figured the first grand jury never saw.

Much about what happened in the O’Reilly parking lot was unclear, and there were details from various witnesses to support any view. Was this the greatest abuse of official power in Orange’s history? Or was Arnold, having fired in self-defense, being forced to defend himself all over again? These questions turned on details like how, or if, Whitehead had lunged for Arnold’s gun, whether Arnold ever showed his police ID, and whether Whitehead was under the influence of drugs at the time. The shooting even drew comparisons to the Trayvon Martin case, a counter-example of unpunished black-on-white violence. “Justice for Trayvon Martin? How about Justice for James Whitehead?” David Bellow wrote at the Texas GOP Vote blog. This story, Bellow wrote, was “about a black Orange, TX police officer, Captain Robert Arnold, who killed a white, unarmed war hero, James Whitehead, after Whitehead used a racial slur.”

Two days after the shooting, Ranger Parks told The Orange Leader that “Racial comments simply had nothing to do with it,” but Kittrell believes Whitehead’s choice of words surely changed the atmosphere in the tense moments before Arnold shot him. “I think we had two angry guys out there,” he says. Whitehead’s friends and family believe it was his hateful language that set Arnold off. “That’s basically what happened, is he got intimidated in the parts store, he felt belittled,” Edwards says. “He’d just been made captain … and he was in front of his daughter when a guy calls him a jungle bunny or whatever, and it pissed him off. And he lost control.”

In December 2010, about 100 of Whitehead’s supporters—friends and fellow veterans, mostly—staged a protest with his family in front of the county courthouse. Cavaretta says more people would have come if not for the well-publicized hate speech that Whitehead had directed at Arnold before he was shot. Quanell X, a New Black Panther Party leader in Houston, asked about bringing a group to Orange as a show of color-blind concern for victims of police brutality. People with signs demanded “Justice for James” and Kimbrough’s resignation. Whitehead’s mother, Diana, made an impassioned plea for help, then led the crowd in the Lord’s Prayer. The rally didn’t change much, nor did the petition Whitehead’s family circulated, or the candlelight vigils Whitehead’s family hold on each anniversary of the shooting in the O’Reilly parking lot. Cavaretta says the vigils get smaller every year.

Whitehead’s family was far from a united front, but in March 2011, James’ long-divorced mother and father, his common-law wife, Karlan Jorgensen, and HeavenLeigh’s mother, Jenny Hughes, banded together to sue Arnold and the city of Orange. They claimed Arnold had killed Whitehead “in cold blood,” then “attempted to cover up” what really happened, with the city’s help. Edwards hoped the suit would go to trial and finally force Arnold to take the stand and explain why he pulled the trigger. But 18 months later the case was settled out of court with a $630,000 award. Whitehead’s daughter, HeavenLeigh, got 60 percent.


James Whitehead, in a booking photo taken after a prior arrest. Whitehead had been arrested twice for assault, but was never convicted.
James Whitehead, in a driver’s license photo taken shortly after his return from Iraq.

Arnold was still trying to get his job back. And while City Attorney John Cash Smith was helping defend Orange in the Whitehead suit, he was also arguing against Arnold in arbitration with the police union. The dual purposes created an odd alignment of loyalties. In a letter asking one of the Whiteheads’ lawyers for the chance to interview the men who’d accompanied Whitehead to the store, Smith wrote, “I want to reassure them that our goals are the same with regard to Officer Arnold.”

Smith says it’s difficult to defend the firing of any officer in arbitration with the police union (see “Crimes Unpunished,” July 2013), where the decision rests with a “fact-finder” the union must agree to. Smith says arbitrators tend to side with the union if they want repeat business, and says the city has about a one-in-three success rate in grievance hearings with the union. Like Kittrell, Smith approached his task narrowly, seeking not justice, necessarily, but an end to the ordeal. “My instructions [from the City Council] were, from the very beginning: appeal, and do your best to make sure that we never get him back,” Smith says. “It’s a small police department, and to take him back? We could never put him on the street again.”

The arbitration hearing lasted four days, and though Arnold never testified, it was the closest thing to a trial the case ever got. Vernon Whitehead turned up and watched Arnold from across the room. Two witnesses, one testifying via video from a Louisiana jail, said Ranger Parks had misquoted or twisted their statements. Several officers dropped in to support Arnold. The arbitrator, a retired Air Force major general named LeRoy Bartman, sided with Arnold and ordered him back to work. But he did so on technical grounds, saying that Arnold hadn’t been properly notified of his suspension and that the department’s internal investigation had been procedurally flawed. Still, Arnold was now twice-vindicated. The city appealed, and a district judge sent the case back to arbitration, setting up another long fight over whether Bartman, or another arbitrator, should re-hear the case. The larger questions—Who was the real victim? What would justice look like? Who should provide it?—remained unresolved.

“This whole incident is a human tragedy,” Smith wrote in a statement after the hearing. “A 28 year old man was deprived of the rest of his life, a 3 year old daughter doesn’t have a father, two parents have lost their son, and a police officer’s career has been ruined—all because of an incredible lapse of judgment in less than 4 minutes of time.”


That the city of Orange had been revealed as intent, almost from the start, on firing the highest-ranking black police officer in its long history prolonged the fallout. In May 2011, Arnold filed a discrimination complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and followed it with a federal civil rights suit a year later. Arnold enlisted a Beaumont law firm with experience in East Texas civil rights causes, led by former Democratic state Sen. David Bernsen and his son Cade, whom David Bellow at Texas GOP Votes somewhat mind-bendingly described as “the white Al Sharpton.”

Arnold had been no-billed by a grand jury and reinstated by an arbitrator. He’d always scored “good” or better in performance evaluations and been cleared in every excessive-force investigation. Arnold cited a commendation from Kittrell in 2008 that called him “an excellent role model for other officers and to the citizens we serve.” The city’s behavior all along, Arnold’s lawyers wrote, “was arbitrary and capricious and designed solely with one intent in mind—to fire Arnold.”

For more than a year, the Bernsens argued that Kittrell had meddled to secure a damning result from the department’s internal investigation, that he’d manipulated public opinion by releasing Arnold’s suspension letter to the media before Arnold had seen it, and that throughout his tenure he’d neglected the city’s own affirmative-action policy requiring him to hire officers representative of the city’s population. One-third of Orange’s population is black, but just 11 of the 85 officers Kittrell hired are. In his defense, Kittrell says, “You can’t go to a department anywhere, East Texas, West Texas, wherever, that that’s not the hardest thing in the world, to recruit minority applicants.”

Kittrell, Hass and others told me that police get no special protection under Texas law for killings. But in practice, police clearly do have advantages, like unions, collective bargaining agreements, and greater trust from jurors to help them keep their jobs. Arnold’s lawyers cited times when the department had disciplined white officers less harshly as evidence that Arnold had been treated unfairly. Evidence of racism may not have been obvious, but the lawyers claimed it was evident in the department’s pattern of behavior. David Bernsen put the argument to Kittrell during a deposition: “Would it be fair to say … you had already made your mind up that in your watch, in your town, in your department, based on your training at Vidor, you weren’t going to let a black man shoot a white man and get away with it?”

“That’s totally wrong,” Kittrell replied.

The city had been squirreling away Arnold’s pay every month since his suspension, anticipating that it might someday be needed for a settlement. By November 2013, that pay added up to $300,000, and when the Texas Municipal League—which manages an insurance pool for cities facing civil suits—agreed to kick in $300,000, it amounted to a settlement offer that Arnold would accept. The key condition of the settlement, Smith says, was that Arnold could never work for the Orange Police Department again.

Cade Bernsen believes it’s the largest civil rights settlement ever extracted from the city of Orange. James’ sister Boyett calls it blood money. “He got paid to kill my brother,” she says—and almost exactly the same amount the city paid Whitehead’s family to settle their lawsuit. The settlement with Arnold appears to have ended the courts’ involvement in James Whitehead’s shooting, and with it all hope of further resolution.

Since nobody else was held responsible, the VA considers Whitehead responsible for his own death, so he’s ineligible for death benefits. “It makes me sick how proud he was to be an American, to be a Marine,” Boyett says, “and what have they done for him?” On disability, Cavaretta says, Whitehead could have received $1,700 a month. Dead, he doesn’t qualify for a military headstone.

HeavenLeigh, now 7, will get her share of the family’s settlement in structured payments beginning when she’s 18. For now, Jenny Hughes is raising her on Social Security benefits and the little money she makes cleaning houses. Hughes remembers a day when she got pulled over with her daughter in the car, and HeavenLeigh shook and screamed at the sight of the police officer outside. “She does not trust y’all,” Hughes had to explain. “You broke her trust.”

Kittrell has called the shooting the worst thing to happen in his career. “It certainly made it different leaving,” Kittrell says of his own retirement in November 2010. The last time he visited the department, two of his dispatchers turned their backs and pretended he wasn’t there. “It stings,” he says. “I don’t even like going back.” Still, at the local Walmart or the county courthouse, he says, he’s gotten nothing but thanks for letting Arnold go.

Arnold wouldn’t speak to the Observer for this story, but his lawyers say that since he lost his job he’s been cleaning rail cars for work, hoping another department, seeing the size of his settlement as evidence of his innocence, will take him on. He’s applied, with no luck so far, for at least 10 other law enforcement jobs around Texas.

“The people that were suing him were painting him out as a devil,” city attorney Smith says, “and when we were arbitrating it on the other side, the Bernsen firm was painting him as the guardian angel of law enforcement, and how he’s been so terribly wronged. Fact of the matter is, those two extremes, the truth lies somewhere in the middle. … It was never heaven and hell.”


Correction August 14: A caption below Whitehead’s photo has been corrected—it is his driver’s license photo, not a booking photo.

  • Jason Lawrence

    I feel bad for the officer. He was completely justified in shooting Mr. Whitehead and is now being punished. I’m sure if he would have let the madman continue, he himself would be dead and everyone in the town would have done a shoulder shrug and not lifted a finger…

    • FrankLuska

      Wow, you were there and saw everything, or just going by the here say in the media?

    • Sarah

      The cop should of walked out without saying a word and called for back up and things may have turned out better. He could of shot him in the leg foot or arm NOT his chest! He was not justified!

      • You’re wrong

        This. This 100%.

        • Steve

          You never use your gun to injure people, you shoot to kill. All police are trained this way.

    • You’re wrong


    • Donna L. McCormick

      Since this Officer had knowledge that rhe police had already been called and he had his daughter with him, he should have kept his mouth shut and let the on duty police handle it.

  • MrMer

    Why do we feel bad for the black guy here but Travon was the hero when he was attacking and got shot?

    Double standards?

    • Sven2547

      Whitehead was being belligerent and confrontational. Martin was, according to Zimmerman’s own words in the 911 call, “getting away”. Can’t tell the difference?

      • You’re wrong

        So he followed him. There is nothing wrong with following someone. Trayvon decided to escalate by attacking him. That’s when the self-defense comes in for Zimmerman. Trayvon deserved every bullet he got. Forensics show that his shirt was hanging away from his body and he was shot from point blank range (eg. he was on top of zimmerman as his shirt was hanging away from his body and shot). Get a clue.

        • Sven2547

          Trayvon decided to escalate by attacking him.

          A claim that was never established in court. Get a clue.

          • You’re wrong

            Actually it was. In case you missed the verdict. Zimmerman was found innocent of any wrongdoing. A broken nose, lacs on the back of his head, forensic evidence that travyon was indeed on top of him, eyewitness reports that “a darker skinned guy was on top throwing blows”. Do you need any other evidence my friend? But really, get a clue.

          • Sven2547

            Actually it was. In case you missed the verdict.

            The verdict was that there was insufficient evidence for a murder conviction. Nowhere did the court find that Trayvon initiated the fight. Zimmerman was considered innocent until proven guilty, and he was not proven guilty. No more, no less. This is American Justice System 101.

            A broken nose, lacs on the back of his head, forensic evidence that travyon was indeed on top of him

            This is proof that there was a fight (which nobody denies), not proof that Trayvon spontaneously decided to turn around and attack Zimmerman. Again: you are posing baseless conjecture which defies common sense.

          • You’re wrong

            I have lots more links for you… hold on let me get a few

          • Sven2547

            Try some actual links that show that Trayvon started the fight, not just links that say there was a fight. Or are you even capable of comprehending the difference?

          • You’re wrong

            I have some more for you one sec

          • You’re wrong
          • Sven2547

            Strike three, still nothing that says Trayvon started it.

          • You’re wrong
          • Sven2547

            Wow, this one isn’t even a witness, he’s just Zimmerman’s friend.

            You’ve had five chances to support your claim that Trayvon turned around and started a fight. You have failed each time. You have nothing.

          • You’re wrong
          • You’re wrong

            I have you. I am in your head. Clearly. Enjoy the links guy.

          • You’re wrong


          • Jesse

            There was no fight. This was what they wanted people to think. There was No DNA/Blood on TM’s hands, under fingernails, or on hoodie sleeves to prove he caused GZ’s injuries which mean GZ could have hit the back of his own head with his gun after the murder and blamed TM for it.

          • You’re wrong
          • Sven2547

            “Trayvon was on top of Zimmerman” is not “Trayvon spontaneously decided to attack Zimmerman”, you illiterate goon.

          • You’re wrong
          • Sven2547

            Strike two. Nothing quoted in that link says Trayvon started it, only that he was on top.

          • You’re wrong
          • You’re wrong

            Oh hold on I’ll help you out some more. This should be some good bedtime reading for you:


          • Jesse

            Let me help you out. Zimmerman had accomplices Mark Osterman was there and so was Jermey (Jenna’s husband/president of the homeowners association who knew GZ) The creepy C was not Zimmerman. If you listen to the 911 call where TM is screaming for his life. You hear Jeremy on the phone with John Good’s wife in the background say he warned me he’d shoot em – yet this guy lied at said he never looked outside, went outside, or know GZ. He’s lied. You also hear GZ from outside say Mark in the 911 call after he shot TM. Who is Mark? Mark Osterman his best friend – You can find this at 1:31 (Jeremy) and 1:43/44 (GZ saying Mark) of his 911 CALL – -These people all lied – Jeremy, Jenna, Osterman, Zimmerman, Amanda Good, John Good, John Manala –

          • You’re wrong

            Hi Jesse. Let me help you out:

            Have a good one friend!

          • Jesse

            The DOJ is still reviewing the case.

          • You’re wrong

            Btw, DOJ = Department of Justice. You wrote Department of Justice of Justice. I’ve never heard of that department.

          • Jesse

            Yes I noticed it and edited thanks though.

          • Jesse

            What happened is that people assumed GZ was getting out of his truck. He was getting back into his truck with his accomplices WITH THE WINDOW DOWN which is the wind pressure we heard blowing into his phone from driving to the back entrance again with the WINDOW DOWN. This is why GZ story of going to get an address doesnt make sense and why Jeantel’s story made sense she was telling the truth. There is no telling where GZ saw TM run. He lied. His accomplice with the spare keys moved his truck back later unfortunately it was never tested for DNA because the whole trial was a cover up.

          • You’re wrong

            With his accomplices ahahahahahaahahahahahahaahahha

          • Jesse

            I just proved it listen to the 911 call link you hear one of his accomplices say to John Good’s wife in the background he warned me he’d shoot em which is proof this case was not a case of self defense if anything but he was an accomplice who ran inside when things got ugly. They were all out to try and get the next burglar which TM wasnt and they racial profiled him because he was black. GZ went crazy and killed TM which was not the plan to kill. GZ on that 911 call says Mark? Which lets us know Mark Osterman was there and lying his way out of it.


          • You’re wrong

            if you think that is legal proof of anything you’re clearly stupider than I even originally gave you credit for. Have a nice day :)

          • Jesse

            It is legal proof. Its a confession on audio that Jeremy lied to police because he is on the phone with John Good’s wife who called him after hearing the gun shot and Jenna the one talking to the operator committed perjury at trial to protect her husband (who was an accomplice). Its illegal to help a murderer get away with murder by holding back evidence as GZ claimed it was a last minute thing to shoot Martin while Jeremy says he warned me he’d shoot em which means this murder was premeditated and not a case of self defense.

          • You’re wrong
        • Kenyatta

          Dude if you can’t be honest on a anonymous post where can you be honest?
          You know that following someone is a hostile act. Do you want me following your daughter? It’s ok to say you support Zman but do so with intellectual honesty.
          Again following someone has ALWAYS been considered a sinister and hostile act. You know that. Be honest and principles in your discussions other wise it’s a waste of time.

          • You’re wrong

            Actually following someone is completely legal. You can actually follow someone, video tape them, photograph them, and they have zero legal right to stop you when you are in public space. Zero. If you’re going to condescendingly scold someone for their lack of intellectual honesty, you should actually know what you are talking about first.

          • Kenyatta

            HMM… Don’t remember using the word legal. I do recall asking if you were ok with me folloing your Daughter. I guess your answer is ” I don’t have a Daughter” Rather then say ” You know, you have a point , I would not want my daughter being followed.
            ie an honest answer.

            So to reiterate “Again following someone has ALWAYS been considered a sinister and hostile act. You know that. Be honest and principles in your discussions other wise it’s a waste of time.”

    • Julia Milazzo

      That Trayvon was attacking was not proved. What was he armed with anyway, a package of skittles and a can of pop?!

      • Marty

        Sven and Julia are racist bigots.

        Trayvon clearly physically attacked Zimmerman with the intent to do major harm. Only doodoo heads believe otherwise.

        Whitehead didn’t lay a finger on Arnold. Wasn’t even attacking him. Medical examiner has physical evidence of this.

        • You’re wrong

          I owned Sven. He’s mine.

      • You’re wrong

        Enjoy. Btw, fists are weapons. I could kill you with my bare hands. Easily.

  • junk

    moral of the story….dont be dumb

    • Adam Wong

      moral of the story: stay out of texas

      • junk


  • Marine Veteran

    Whitehead lunged at Arnold and said, “I want you to put a bullet in my head, you fucking coon.”

    It’s so sad that now his daughter HeavenLeigh will have to look back and remember that his father was not just a racist but that his last words were “Kill me”.

  • Sprocket

    This is more of an indictment on the post-combat after-care that is so lacking here in the US than it is anything racial, imho. Sign up, go defend our flag, or whatever they tell them to go do in the name of patriotism, and then they just get fucking ignored when they return all fucked up. It is no wonder.

    • Rafik Cezanne

      Sprocket is right. The medical establishment failed this soldier. The real culprit is the drug Adderall: Nervous system side effects have included insomnia (27%), agitation (8%), anxiety (8%), dizziness (7%), depression, seizures, stroke, overstimulation, restlessness, euphoria, dyskinesia, dysphoria, tremor, headache, exacerbation of motor and phonic tics, and Tourette’s syndrome. Additional reports have included irritability, aggression, anger, logorrhea, dermatillomania and paresthesia (including formication).

      • MichaelZWilliamson

        Yeah, but some vets are just assholes. Speaking as a vet.

  • Thomas Zell

    As ad as this case is, the law is the law. This citizen had to stand his ground and defend himself from an imminent threat. It’s very tragic, but things like this happen.

  • channelclemente

    It’s Texas, what’s more it in the Vidor community. Look up Vidor in the Southern Poverty Law Center archives. That’s Louis Beam country.

    • FrankLuska

      The Southern Poverty Law Center? Isn’t that the same people who condoned and justified the killing of little children in Waco? Yep, sure is.

      • channelclemente

        Sheer nonsense. Calling that bunch crazy as bedbugs isn’t condoning.

        • FrankLuska

          So, the children, who got burned to death, WERE CRAZY? I did not know that. But the SPLC agreed, the way it ended was best for all. Straight from your buddy Morris Dees mouth. I’ll add you to the list of Fascist Liberals, Thanks for showing your colors.

  • usakindatheart

    the guy butted chest, means he is blowing testosterone not going to kill any body, the cop followed him to his vehicle.. this is just the OPPOSITE of what happened at florida, except this x soldier did not try to beat down the cop. This was NOT a clean shot, if he was sitting in the truck. this was murder. BUT since its not politically correct for a black man to be wrong, and he also has the blue code on his side.. this black cop will walk free.. Not sure about this family, but if it had been mine.. that cop wouldn’t be walking free to long

  • usakindatheart

    well good news, obama and his congress has just slashed more of the veterans benefits just this past week.

  • Humberto Martinez

    I can’t say that the officer was justified in using deadly force. What was the necessity of making the arrest if based on the store employee’s call to 911, help was already on the way. As an officer, not in uniform and apparently off-duty and accompanied by a child, I would have gone ahead and taken down the license plate number of the vehicle Mr. Whitehead was in, and let him leave the premises or wait until uniformed officers arrived. There were plenty of witnesses to the altercation.

    Need for deadly force arises either when there is an immediate threat to the officer’s or someone’s else’s life. With the back-up’s arrival, the arrest, if ultimately necessary, could have been made without anyone dying. I know it sounds like Monday morning quarterbacking, but in my experience, words – regardless of how offensive they are – do not rise to the level of being countered with deadly force. All police officers should know this. If in fact Mr. Whitehead reached for the officer’s gun, he did so because the officer brought the weapon into the picture. The officer was trying to make an arrest of a subject accompanied by several others that could have been the arrest even more difficult without back-up. It is a shame that a life was taken and a few more lives were ruined in the process.

  • Basil1111

    Not knowing all the facts for there was not a trial, but from a very comprehensive news report and given the autopsy report that Whitehead was shot while sitting down nullifies any defense of self defense, and it was corroborated by witnesses. That coupled with the fact that Arnold could not use the police privilege of Necessary Force because than man was sitting down in the cab of the truck unarmed, points to ugly fact that the shooting was not justified as concluded by the Texas State Trooper. It was murder and continues to be murder. Arnold is very fortunate that he was not charged. Police officers operate under an un written code: that no officer will ever testify vs. another brother officer irrespective of the nature of the issue. That is why Kittrell has been given the cold shoulder by the other members of the police dept.
    The DA danced around this murder, but maybe some other DA will bring about an indictment by Information because not trial has ;been held and therefore there is no final judgment that has exonerated Arnold. He may be tried in the future by a DA who lives up to carry the scales of justice to correct an injustice. And it should happen…

  • Billy Cole

    I knew this family when I was younger. There has been much tragedy, Debbie and Bobby Franken. Now their nephew, James

  • Richard Murrison

    the reason the black cop shot him was because he knew nothing would come of it. After all he is a black officer. or a non white officer. Hope he can live with the fact he killed a fellow human.

  • Kenyatta

    It’s very
    interesting how different people (Black White) see reality. I just came across this story. How accurate it is, I do not know. BUT from what I read, I can see where someone
    might fear for their safety assuming this is an accurate description of what
    Also I could see it even if the roles were reversed. Yet NOW, the
    cop no longer gets the benefit of the doubt. When it’s a white cop shooting a
    black kid, it’s:

    “ Well yes the cop shot him 87 times in the back then chopped off his head, but let’s wait
    till all the facts are in and not rush to judgment”

    The white guy is now the upstanding citizen. He is reportedly chest bumping the cop and acting in a hostile manner. Again, I am just going by what I read. YET… a young black kid can be shot with his
    hands up (Yes even assuming there was physical contact BEFORE he ran) and many
    whites be ok with it. I am not a cop. You could not pay me enough to be one .
    However I do have a CCW and have had it for 25+ years. When someone comes within striking distance
    of myself or a loved one and in a manner that is hostile, I reserve the right to strike first.
    Outside of my personal space, you may call me everything but a
    child of God if you like. However, If you move into my personal space then Huston (Orange) We have a problem.

  • Eric

    Did I miss something?.. the man screamed racial slurs at the cop, bump chest and push the cops gun away and still got a warning from the cop before being shot. Apparently the cop did all he could to try to avoid deadly force, if the cop would have been white and the soldier was black. this cop would have been called a hero in great REDNECK state of Texas

  • kid_you_not

    This sounds like a lot of fiction used to skew the story. Texas Observer is hostile to White people at every turn. They support any form of degeneracy – they have an a narrative and they shoe-horn the story to fit that. For example, I just searched for “denton ward.” No results. He was a White college student who was beaten to death right across campus at Texas A&M (where they continue to pander to non-Whites for “diversity.”) Well some of the “diversity” committed murder and they won’t say a word about it. American Thinker will:

    I wonder why a “Texas” site like this would IGNORE that?