Abstract
There is a catalog of names that haunt Black political imaginaries and protest cultures; icons and leaders, family and strangers, whose names are weighted as evidence in the long histories of and movements toward liberation. Each is spoken of individually at the moment of the crime and meant to display a double burden of proof: the spectacularity of their particular demise as well as the quotidian nature of Black death. Violence is the original connection tying them together—Sean, Sandra, Ezell, and Quintonio—but in the last few years they have a new relation, new com-munion, and a new life in sound.