Vanessa Peoples recovers from an epileptic seizure in her living room. She says the murder of George Floyd caused her to relive her trauma with police after being brutalized in her Aurora, Colorado home in 2017.. The summer’s racial justice protests along with the coronavirus pandemic, virtual schooling and family issues led to increased stress, a trigger for epileptic seizures.
"I'm still walking down this dark tunnel."
Pitched, co-reported and photographed for The Denver Post, with support from the Economic Hardship Reporting Project.
Four years ago, Vanessa and her family had their lives upended when Aurora police came to their home and brutalized her. Her kids and mother heard it all from the back room as officers grabbed her by the neck, threw her to the ground and dislocated her shoulder as they hog-tied her.
A year later, she received a $100,000 settlement from the City of Aurora. The money was a welcome help with bills, college tuition, a rare vacation and a car.
But today, the settlement money is mostly gone and she's left with the trauma of that dark day and an arduous healing process. "I'm still walking down this dark tunnel," she said recently. Lately, though, she's begun to see the light at the end of that tunnel a bit more clearly.
Before this story published, Vanessa wrote her feelings on a piece of notebook paper, explaining her intentions for speaking out in such a public way. She writes:
“When you dust yourself off, stand up and let the world know it’s time for change, such as justice for all and changes in the criminal justice system, it’ll help people understand that this is not the way we have to live - in fear... I just hope and pray that by telling my story, it will help people across the world be able to speak about their stories and be at peace about it… I hope someday they will hear our voices and make change, but please, never give up, never lose hope.”
Brothers Mahjae and Tamaj Hike, six and then-7, play in their front yard, the same house in which their mother was brutalized by police.
Old photographs decorate the Peoples home in Aurora. “There’s a lot of blood, sweat and tears in this house,” said Vanessa, center left at age 10.
Mahjae holds onto his mother after getting into a scuffle with his brother. Mahjae has been particularly attached to Vanessa since her 2017 arrest and brutalization by Aurora police at the family’s home, she says.
Nervous to recount her traumatic experience once again, this time on national television, Vanessa begins to cry as she braids her hair. She was deciding what hairstyle to go with for an NBC Nightly News interview about police brutality and hobbles when the pressure and retraumatization got to her. There has been immense power and healing for Vanessa in telling her story. She's felt like she's helping get the word out, holding power to account and potentially preventing what happened to her from happening to others. But that hasn't made it easy.
Vanessa gives her youngest son, then-8-months-old Zamari Hike, a bath. Zamari was born five days after the murder of George Floyd. “He was a fighter…He’s my gift, my little miracle baby.”
Mahjae looks to his mom, wary to go to sleep for the night. For a year after the 2017 incident with Aurora police, he, as well as his brother, Tamaj, had nightmares and trouble sleeping. Mahjae sometimes still has trouble going to sleep.
Vanessa smokes a joint in the hallway in her family home, the same hallway police grabbed her by the neck, shoved her to the ground and dislocated her shoulder while hog-tying her. She says walking through that hallway every day forces her to think about the worst day of her life. Often, decompressing with a joint, when her kids aren't around, is the only way she can have time for herself and relieve her stress, depression and anxiety.
Tevin Hike, Vanessa's husband, and his son, Mahjae, scream and laugh while sledding down a hill as Vanessa watches, smiling, and Tamaj plays with his cousin at right. Enjoying family time is what matters most to Vanessa, so moments like these are healing for her and the family.
Vanessa kisses Mahjae goodbye for the day as she drops him off at school one morning. Earlier that week, he came home early from school because an Aurora police officer was at his school to speak at an assembly. Vanessa offered for Mahjae to stay home from school the next day, but he said that he wanted to be strong for his mom.
One of Vanessa's tattoos reads, “what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.”
Vanessa takes a selfie with balloons sent by her close friend Carletta Taylor to celebrate her 30th birthday. It was a day of mixed emotions. She felt happy to have a day to celebrate herself, but felt stuck as a 30-year-old woman, unable to get a job because of her criminal record, still living with her mother in the house where she was brutalized.
Tamaj, then-7 at left, his grandmother Patricia Russell and Vanessa dance in the hot tub the evening after Vanessa completed her interview with NBC News. “It’s finally done now. My nerves is calm...," she said, on cloud nine. " It was emotional. You’re just letting the world know you’re still hurting… It was a big relief to let everyone know.”
Vanessa walks into the Aurora Police Department Headquarters to start the process of sealing her criminal record. She was noticeably nervous and agitated as soon as she arrived. “It’s like every time I come here I just get sick to my stomach. Just standing here makes me sick to my stomach because I seen the door they took me to,” she said as she parked at the building.
Mahjae, left, plays with his father, Tevin, as Tamaj and his mother relax on the porch. Vanessa was soon to be graduating from college, Zamari was turning one and she had started the criminal record sealing process. Spirits were high that evening.
Vanessa adjusts her 2021 college graduation tassel in her car she purchased with money from the settlement paid to her by the city of Aurora. She graduated from a technical college, completing programs in nursing and legal office work. “It felt great. I just started crying when he handed it [diploma] to me.”
Vanessa dances with her cousins Kenneth Abram and Revina Robertson, left, and her mother, Patricia, at a party they threw for her Zamari's first birthday and her college graduation at their Aurora home. "Nobody can take my joy right now,” she said a couple days before the party.