In the two years since his teenage son’s murder, Ron Davis has been sustained by hugs.
From parents whose children also were taken decades too soon.
From officials around the world at a United Nations conference.
From television talk show host Katie Couric.
And from the director whose documentary about Jordan Davis’ death that premieres this weekend at the Sundance Film Festival.
Those hugs have fueled Ron Davis’ fight, given him strength and helped heal his heart.
A heart that aches with hurt and pride.
A powerful meeting
Director Marc Silver was sent a copy of a Rolling Stone magazine article about Jordan’s death.
Four black teenagers in a car playing loud music. A middle-aged white man with a gun. A confrontation at a Southside convenience store. Ten gunshots. A teenager killed before his 18th birthday.
The families of Jordan Davis and his killer, Michael Dunn, became forever intertwined because of those three-and-a-half minutes on Nov. 23, 2012.
“It was a perfect storm of racial profiling, access to guns and laws that give people the confidence to use those guns,” said Silver.
When he met Jordan’s parents in June 2013, he knew their story was so much more. He used the “powerful” meeting as the opening of his film, “3½ Minutes.” (See trailer for the movie here.)
Silver said Davis and Lucy McBath “very slowly, in a forensic way” explained their story. The last time they saw their son, Davis receiving the call that Jordan had been hurt and the horror of having to call McBath to tell her the son – who medical experts weren’t sure she’d ever have – had been murdered.
There also were light moments, Silver said. Like the story of a deal McBath made with Davis: If the baby was a girl, Davis could name her. If she was having a boy, McBath would pick the name.
What Davis didn’t know, Silver said, was McBath already knew she was having a son. A son she would name after the River Jordan.
Davis said Silver told him and his ex-wife, “Every syllable out of your mouth shows you love your son.”
He recalls the director turning away many times during their conversation to wipe the tears.
“He (Silver) told us, ‘I wish if something happened to me, my family would love me that much,’” Davis said.
And then they hugged, Davis said. Not a quick one, where you hug and let go.
“It was one of those, ‘Let me go, Marc’ hugs,” Davis said, with a laugh.
Fighting together to bring change
The documentary crew filmed the first trial in February that ended with the jury unable to decide if Dunn shot in self-defense or if he murdered Jordan. (Dunn was later convicted of first-degree murder in a second trial in October.)
They filmed Thanksgiving Day at Davis’ home, where Silver was among the guests. It was the first Thanksgiving celebration for the British director.
“It was a beautiful day,” Silver said.
They followed the parents at some of their national advocacy work, including the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington.
The two have traveled the country and part of the world sharing the story of their son, while pushing for tougher restrictions on guns and a broad discussion on Stand Your Ground laws.
Davis said he and McBath decided two days after their son died to fight for justice.
Although they had been divorced since Jordan was 3, they had raised their son together. Now that he was gone, they would fight for change together.
“This world is going to know that Jordan Davis was here,” they promised.
Davis understands some parents whose children are victims of gun violence can’t do the advocacy work. Instead, they withdraw because they’re unable to cope with the loss.
Davis knew that would be a dangerous path for him. “If I start down that road,” he told himself then, “I don’t know if I’m going to make it.”
He’s frustrated that little has been done to tighten restrictions on guns, even after shootings like the one at an elementary school in Newtown, Conn.
“Twenty elementary school children were massacred and nobody does anything,” Davis said. “That’s disgusting.”
The parents have been on dozens of national news and talk shows discussing the need to protect children from gun violence. The story touched the heart of Katie Couric, he said.
Thirty minutes before the show, Davis said, Couric “jumped into my arms and cried like a baby.”
Davis and Trayvon Martin’s mother, Sybrina Fulton, traveled to Switzerland to appear before the United Nation’s Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination to talk about policing and race in America.
Davis said the chair of the committee told him she had no doubt if her 17-year-old daughter was black and lived in the United States, the girl would be in the same danger Jordan was.
Then, he said, she “grabbed me and hugged me.”
Jailhouse phone calls tracked Dunn’s evolution
Dunn would not agree to be interviewed for the film, but Silver said his evolution is shown through jailhouse phone conversations.
In the beginning, Silver said, Dunn’s story that he felt his life was in danger was believable to some.
“In a sense, before you know the facts, you might think this guy’s life has totally been turned upside down just as much as Jordan’s life,” Silver said.
But after filmmakers listened to hours and hours of the calls, which they received through a public records request, Silver said the evolution was clear as Dunn talked about topics, such as hating the “thug” music that was being played in the car Jordan was in.
“You understand he’s the cause of his own life being turned upside down,” Silver said.
The director also talked about the many other lives that were impacted by the shooting, including the three teenagers with Jordan in the car that night.
Jurors got a better picture of 17-year-old Jordan through the friends’ memories. “He was quite special,” Silver said.
Jurors also saw the lasting impact the shooting had on the teenagers.
“I found it very moving, and it comes across in the film, the way the camera lingers on their faces when they’re on the witness stands,” Silver said.
One of those friends, Leland Brunson, stopped by Christmas Eve to see “Pop,” which he calls Davis.
But he couldn’t go to his friend’s room. It still hurt too much.
“I just wanted to be with you Pop,” Brunson told him.
He was gone after a couple of hours and a hug goodbye.
A final kiss and a hug from a father
Davis spends a lot of time in Jordan’s room, which is filled with photographs and memories of the teenager. It’s a comforting place where he feels Jordan’s presence, he said.
“There’s one (photograph) every foot and a half of space,” Davis laughed.
There’s also the honorary diploma his son got from Wolfson High School, the school from which he would have graduated.
And there’s the video game console, which father and son played a lot. They were friendly rivals in the Dark Alliance series and boxing games.
Their favorite, though, was Risk, a game of strategy.
For the first 10 times they played, the elder Davis won.
“Then all of a sudden, here he comes learning strategy,” Davis said. “Then we were about even.”
Every now and then, he sleeps in his son’s room. “I can smell him in the bed,” Davis said.
It’s a hard night’s sleep, though, as memories come flooding back, including the last day of his son’s life.
Davis was leaving to start his 3 p.m. shift at work. After giving his son money for a trip to the St. Johns Town Center, he told Jordan to be home by 11 p.m.
They hugged goodbye.
That night, Davis was at the hospital waiting for news on his son. The delay was caused by Jordan not having identification on him.
Finally, Davis gave a chaplain his cellphone that had a photograph of Jordan.
When the chaplain came back, she had a doctor and a police officer in tow.
He remembers part of what the doctor said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Davis. I couldn’t resuscitate him.”
After that, he could see the doctor was still talking but nothing registered.
The broken-hearted father’s only response was a wail so loud and filled with such hurt it brought a 6-foot-6, 280-pound police officer to tears, Davis said.
They took him to see Jordan, who had a sheet covering him from the neck down.
Police told him he couldn’t touch his son because of the ongoing criminal investigation.
But, Davis told himself, “I’m hugging my son.”
As he held Jordan, he told him not to be afraid, that God would take care of him.
“You be a good boy now,” he said. And then he kissed him.
Davis was the first to kiss Jordan when he came into the world and the last when he left.
Those kisses and that hug continue to sustain a grieving father.
@editormarilyn
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