Kansas-City

After 23 years in prison, 41-year-old Lamonte McIntyre was recently released, according to the Associated Press.Unbelievably, the Kansas City native spent over two decades behind bars for a double murder he didn’t commit.After being released he said, “First day out, I celebrate it with my family I was able to breathe and relax. That felt nice. So much tension in a place, having this burden on you. I was able to relax just enjoy my family.”The tension wasn't just on McIntyre those 23 years — it was also on his mom. She told the AP that she carried guilt and anger during those years, believing that a choice she made landed her son in prison.McIntyre’s mother, Rose, said that the white detective on her son’s case, Roger Golubski, requested regular sexual favors from her. She refused.“I do believe that if I had complied with his request for me to become his ‘woman,’ that my son would likely not be in prison,” Rose said in a 2014 affidavit.Golubski wasn't alone in being accused of abuse of power.The prosecutor on the case, Terra Morehead, stands accused of intimidating any witness who did not point to McIntyre as the murder.And, it gets even more twisted. Prior to her involvement in the case, Morehead was in a romantic relationship with the judge, J. Dexter Burdette. Neither one of them, at the time, felt the need to disclose the true nature of their relationship.Sadly, none of these revelations were a surprise to the black Kansas City community. To them, this is the norm.One of the witnesses threatened by Morehead, Niko Quinn, signed an affidavit admitting to her dishonesty on the stand during McIntyre’s 1994 case.She said she felt she had no choice but to lie on the stand because Morehead threatened to take away her children and have her locked up if she didn't do as was she told. Another witness, Ruby Mitchell, was fearful of Golubski, who forced her to do a sexual act and repeatedly called her, prompting a move and a phone number change.“He had total power, and I was terrified that he would try to force me again to provide sexual favors,” Mitchell said. “I also knew that there was no one I could complain to, as Golubski was known to be very powerful in the community and in the police department.”And it was widely known in the department that Golubski preyed upon black sex workers and drug addicts, even fathering children with some of them, Ruby Ellington, a retired Kansas City police officer said.“Roger Golubski’s involvement with them was no secret,” Ellington said. “It was simply accepted as part of what Roger Golubski was able to do without repercussion.”Thank God the truth is out and McIntyre is free, but the nefarious detective, prosecutor and judge are still on the loose, living their best lives, and currently in little danger of facing any consequences for their actions.A group called The Midwest Innocence Project is investigating a dozen plus cases similar to McIntyre’s, in an attempt to right wrongs, and to make sure such race-driven corruption ceases in Kansas...

If you live in Kansas City, you know what the phrase "east of Troost" means. If you don't, it means "over in the black side of town."But that's about to change. The city's Beacon Hill neighborhood has seen a huge influx of white residents, and long-time black residents of Beacon Hill aren't sure how they feel about that, according to the Associated Press.In 2008, white architect Randy Kietman and his wife Jane began construction on a new home for themselves in the Beacon Hill area, after living in a Kansas City suburb for several years. Their new home — which is worth $750,000 — is a 3,200-square-foot property that features balconies, a large kitchen, a floating staircase and koi pond.Although it sounds like a dream home, the couple's friends all reacted like they were choosing to live a nightmare.“I mean, here we were, happy out in the suburbs of Leawood,” Jane Kietman said. “People were like, ‘You’re doing what?’ People were convinced we were going to lose our shirts, or get killed. Friends and family were supportive, but they were fearful for us.”Once their friends saw the Kietmans' new home, however, that fear dissipated, and the couple saw an opportunity. They bought up empty lots in their new neighborhood, some going for as little as $10,000, and build the wildest houses they could imagine.Now, the Kietmans have built more than ten contemporary homes, each worth at least a half of million dollars, in the Beacon Hill neighborhood. They've sold them all to their white friends, and dozens more homes like the ones they've built are going up.The area is now in the midst an urban architectural renaissance. Some laud this transformation, but others fear they are witnessing cultural and economic encroachment.“I can see the whole thing. I can see it all coming together,” Stuart Bullington, deputy director of the city’s Department of Neighborhoods and Housing Services said.Gone are the "drug dealing, prostitution, burned-out houses," according to Bullington, who added, "There is no one who can be negative at this point, in my opinion.”Bullington clearly hasn't spoken to long-time residents like George Allen, who see a lot of negatives.Allen lives a home his grandparents worked their fingers to the bone to buy. It has been in his family now for over 100 years.“I come outside and look at what’s going on around me every day and I shake my head," Allen said. “I wish all of this would have never come here.”It isn't just the "white ladies walking their dogs" that worries Allen, and those like him. It's the rising property values."It’s scary because I’m an existing resident that I think, one day, will be pushed out. I really do," long-time black resident Dee Evans said.Long-time residents say they've been inundated with calls from real estate agents looking to buy their homes. “I would say I’m sitting on a gold mine,” Evans said. Those calls, when unwanted, are certainly annoying, but the real danger is that with rising property values comes rising property taxes.“Who can afford these homes?" Allen said of the houses the Kietmans and others are building. "Most likely not people who look like me.”Allen is also worried that in the rush to cash in, black history is going to be bulldozed. Beacon Hill was once home to prominent black citizens in Kansas City. Allen doesn't want the history of the city's black lawyers, doctors and baseball players to disappear.But he is resigned to it. "They’re going to want to turn this into what they want it to be."The Kietmans and their other new white residents have big plans for the area, that suggest Allen's fears may have some validity.Jane Kietzman said that the couple chose to move because, “We saw real potential over here."Her huband boldly added, “We want to erase [the east of Troost color line]. We don’t have any intention of coming in here and creating an isolated little enclave.”Plans are in place to build an $18 million apartment complex, a $14 million hotel and more houses that are expected to be valued at six figures or more.All this development is sure to bring more people like Jamie Lewis, a new white resident.Lewis said when she moved to Beacon Hill, friends from outside the neighborhood "bought me both pink pepper spray and a pink taser."Kim Hammontree said that fear still exists, despite the rapid changes, “When people ask us where we live … they give me a weird look, like ‘Are you serious?’”For his part, Allen said one thing will never change about Beacon Hill as long as he has something to say about it. He's going to stay, and to make sure his house stays in his family. "They’ll never get this one. It’s going to stay...

When husband and father Randell Minott traveled to Kansas City, Missouri on business in early September, he had no idea he would be looking down the barrel of a police officer's gun during a routine traffic stop.On Sept. 6, Minott posted a video on Facebook of himself berating a police officer for allegedly drawing his gun on him when he was stopped for not using a turn signal. "Do you feel empowered now?" Minott asked the officer. The officer seen in the video made the stop with his partner (not seen), who Minott said was checking his information at the time the incident was recorded.The video quickly went viral with some social media users showing support, and others expressing their skepticism about what happened during the stop.Minott agreed to share with Blavity an exclusive account of the events that occurred that night.Minott said that earlier in the evening, he saw the same police officers at a gas station not too far from where he was pulled over. He was filling up his car when they pulled over a young girl there. He said he doesn't think the officers followed him, because he made another stop before he was pulled over, and no one was behind him.Once pulled over, Minott said he waited in his car for about three minutes before he heard the officer approach his car."I had my license and everything ready. He only made it to my back glass, and when I turned around, through my back window, he had his pistol with the flashlight under it pointed at me," Minot said. "The light was in my face and when my eyes adjusted, I saw the gun. He was already out of control." Minott said it was only when the officer's partner walked up on the other side of the car did he reholster his weapon. "Once he put his gun away, I grabbed my phone off the dashboard and started recording, and I told him I was going to record it."Minott said he asked the officer why he was stopped, and he originally told him that his windows were too dark. Minott said his windows were down. They then said he didn't use his signal when he turned earlier. Minott said he couldn't recall if he used the signal or not, but he still didn't think it was enough for the officer to pull a gun on him."It wasn't enough for him to do all that. When I started recording, the more and more I talked, I just kept getting even more pissed off," he said. "I'm married with two kids and one on the way. My oldest son just turned 18. He's going to college and we just bought his first car. The whole time that's what I was thinking about, because if it were my son, he would've jumped or something when he saw that gun. What would the officer do then?"Minott's said he told his family about the incident and they were shook up about it, but not surprised with how he handled it. They're just grateful it didn't end tragically.In the video, the cop seems calm and can be heard saying "OK" a couple of times. Minott said that's the only thing he recalls the cop saying the entire time. The officer can be seen standing outside of the driver's side of Minott's car covering up his badge during the recording."I know some people [on social media] were saying I shut him down, but it wasn't like I was trying to shut him down. I was trying to make a point, and it didn't seem like he cared about what I was saying."Originally from East Orange, New Jersey, Minott explained that he doesn't hate the police, because he knows good cops—including his uncle—who he knows he can trust."I don't hate police officers, but I don't trust them as a whole. On an individual level, I know there are some I can trust, but until a police officer snitches on another one and doesn't get blackballed for it, I don't trust them as a whole. It's guys like him who make the relationship hard between some cops [and the black community]. He knows the dangers of his job and I get that, but that doesn't mean he can put my life in danger."Minot said the officers eventually gave him a ticket for a moving violation and switching lanes without using a signal. Neither of the officers have been identified and the Kansas City Police Deartment had not returned calls made by Blavity at the time of this...

It can be hard to imagine sports without black players — a good thing, that shows what was once unimaginable has become quotidian.But it is important that we cast our minds back to a more unjust time, to remember how things were and to understand how our today came to be.Which is why institutions like the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum in Kansas City are so important.The museum started off as a one-room collection of artifacts in 1999, and has since expanded to its current 10,000 square foot incarnation.And Saturday, the space received a boost from Baltimore Orioles center fielder Adam Jones, who, according to The Baltimore Sun, gifted the museum with a $20,000 donation.The money will go in large part to providing free museum admission to students at Kansas City’s Operation Breakthrough, which provides before- and afterschool enrichment activities for students up to age 13, and daycare to children below the age of five.“It’s all about giving knowledge,” Jones told the Sun, “Give kids opportunities … I’m just a person who likes to give kids, give humans, give people an opportunity to learn.”Jones learned a lot when visiting the museum over the weekend, “about the Negro Leagues side of it, their point of view — the things that they didn’t have as much as everybody else, the things they didn’t care about as much as everybody else.”“When I walk through those walls, I learn. It would be selfish of me not to help other people learn.” In addition to supporting free admission, Jones’ donation will also be used to build “new augmented reality technology” for the museum, according to its president, Bob Kendrick. And, in a testament to making a dolla holla, the money will be further used in putting on a show to be called Barrier Breakers that will salute players like Jackie Robinson and Pumpsie Green.Jones was inspired to become a museum donor he says, because “you walk through those doors, [and there is] such a love for baseball that it’s contagious.”Thanks to Jones, a lot more people are going to catch that contagious...