It wasn’t how the Hambrick family planned to mark the three-year anniversary of the shooting.
They’d planned to spend the month of July in court. They’d been bracing for opening statements. For witness testimony. For jury deliberations. A verdict.
They hoped now-former Nashville Police Officer Andrew Delke would be found guilty of first-degree murder for shooting Daniel Hambrick in the back as he ran away with a gun in his hand. They hoped Delke would spend the rest of his life in prison.
But three years later, none of that had happened.
Just weeks before the anniversary — and days before the murder case was set to go to trial — Delke had pleaded guilty to a lesser charge in exchange for a three-year sentence. One year for each one that Hambrick’s loved ones had waited to see the officer locked up. And, as they pointed out a vigil marking the anniversary, a year for each bullet that struck and killed the 25-year-old as he sprinted in the opposite direction.
But those who honored Hambrick’s life Saturday night vowed to continue supporting the Hambrick family — and to prevent future killings.
“This group is not afraid to continue the journey, because the journey has just started,” Rev. Venita Lewis told a few dozen people gathered at Watkins Park, across the street from where Hambrick was shot in July of 2018. “We will get victory in the midst of what seems like the other side won.”
Local community organizers urged those at the vigil to work together to protect one another from violence, so that neighborhoods would no longer need police. But as long as officers are patrolling Black neighborhoods, they said they hoped the department would send officers who aren’t afraid of the citizens they serve.
“We are tired of police officers coming to our community and murdering a community member and then saying that they’re scared,” said Larry Turnley, a violence interrupter with the restorative justice group Gideon’s Army. “We are tired of them using that same talking point.”
The memorial started with a moment of prayer. Then a young woman held the hand of Vickie Hambrick, Daniel Hambrick’s mother, and began to sing. As hymns spilled out of her mouth, the rest of group bowed their heads. When the woman finished singing, Vickie Hambrick held her tight in an embrace and cried.
“You don’t know how much I appreciate you,” Hambrick told her. “To be young, I appreciate you. You just don’t know how much time you’ve got, baby.”
After a few speeches, the crowd moved to the parking lot. Dark clouds loomed in the sky and thunder had begun to rumble. No one wanted to rush the moment, but the rain was coming soon.
People scribbled messages on paper lanterns, then started to light them on fire. Before long, the sky had filled with glowing white orbs. Little kids watched in awe.
As the rainclouds grew closer, a woman began to sing a familiar song, one that seemed fitting after three years of pent up grief.
“Let it go.”