‘Jesse’s Gone’: Violence, Anguish, Anger

Twenty-two-year-old Jesse Rahim Hall was more than just another slain rapper, shot while sitting in a car hanging out with a few of his closest friends. He was a father. A best friend. A street prophet with a rapid-fire gift of gab. A son. A representative of hope.

Now he’s another statistic.

One of 8,000 young black males killed in America every year. The 108th murder in Oakland in 1992. One of the 90% killed, most likely, by the itchy trigger finger of another young black male.

In light of the similar deaths of rappers the Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac Shakur, most cynics might want to write off this senseless death as yet another case of a “crazed” rapper living and dying by the sword.

But, as Michael S. Smith’s heartbreaking “Jeese’s Gone” proves so effectively in PBS’ “P.O.V.” documentary series tonight, the issues are much deeper than whatever music the rapper Plan B of the Hobo Junction created. One has to look at the environment, East Oakland’s Sobrante Park, that created this type of heartless cruelty. But more important, one has to look into the eyes of the best friends and crying parents to realize just how deeply he touched people during his short tenure on Earth.

The strength of “Jeese’s Gone” lies in its ability to juxtapose the pain of the Hall family’s loss with their intense anger about the situation. One feels riveted as one of Hall’s close friends reveals his feelings about how a heartless, unknown assailant could instantly rob someone of their dreams of a better life, but less than a minute later wishes he could avenge his friend’s death.

Despite impassioned statements by Hall’s parents and members of his rap crew, the best moments of “Jesse’s Gone” focus beyond the slain youth. Tears flow while watching a group of young black males, none of them older than 9, play basketball as the narrator rolls off the odds each one faces.

“Watching these boys play, you’re haunted by the probability that one of them will grow up to kill another one that looks just like himself,” Robert “Panther” Lewis Jr. says. “It’s old news. America is a dangerous place for black boys. Do we ever hope to see them grow up? Not to be doctors, lawyers or astronauts, but just to be alive? Or should we, like a slave mother, giving birth to a slave child, let hope be a luxury?”

During the closing moments of “Jesse’s Gone,” as we watch Hall’s son running, smiling and playing, in the prime of life, we realize just how precious, and dangerous, a thing hope is. The final words are from Hall himself, in a playful yet serious message he videotaped for his son to watch one day.

“I love you,” he says. “You are my dream come true. And my mind is set, and all my goals are toward making my life better so I can make yours better.”

A life is a terrible thing to waste on the pavement.

* “Jesse’s Gone” airs on “P.O.V.” at 10:30 tonight on KCET-TV Channel 28.