A black man left paralysed after being shot five times by American police has forgiven his attacker – and now works with officers to prevent further casualties.
Leon Ford was 19 when David Derbish, a white Pittsburgh officer, fired five bullets into him at point-blank range after wrongly believing him to be a wanted fugitive.
Now, a decade on, having fought in court to prove his innocence and winning a civil claim against the Pennsylvania force, Ford has chosen reconciliation instead of retaliation.
He even held a face-to-face meeting with Derbish, during which, despite battling years of depression, hatred for the police and suicidal thoughts, Ford shook the hand that pulled the trigger and expressed his desire to work together.
“I believe that meeting was the beginning of Derbish’s healing process,” Ford, now 30, tells The National. “Although he didn’t apologise, the surprise, admiration and respect I saw in his eyes was better than an apology.
“It’s easy for me to say all police officers are bad, just like it’s easy for him to say I’m a bad person. But once he realised I wasn’t – can you imagine what that did to him psychologically?
“At the end of the day, he is a person, he is a police officer still and works as a negotiator.
“What good is it carrying on feeling hatred and expressing just as much, when we can move forward together for the better of our community?
“This was my way of being a better person than that and helping to make a real difference.”
Wrongly shot and taken to court
On November 11, 2012, Ford was driving to his grandmother’s for Sunday dinner when he was stopped by a patrol car.
He had been racially profiled by officers looking for Lamont Ford, a black Pittsburgh resident of around the same age who was wanted on criminal charges but of no relation or connection to Ford.
Despite Ford showing two officers his ID and insisting there had been a mistake, they started pulling him out of his car.
Panicking, he gripped the steering wheel and started driving away. However, unbeknown to him, a third officer, Derbish, who was 26 at the time, had entered the vehicle from the passenger’s side and shot him repeatedly.
“He broke a lot of laws by doing that,” Ford adds. “But I was charged with resisting arrest and felony assault. I was facing 20 years in prison. I was in tremendous physical and psychological pain. I was in a very dark place.”
In the intensive care unit, with staples in his chest, tubes down his throat and having narrowly avoided death, he was arrested.
His family were blocked by officers, who threatened to arrest his father, also called Leon, as they pleaded they let them see him.
They were forced to hire lawyers to file a motion – they waited two weeks before they were granted access.
During his recovery, Ford spent the next six years fighting the same police force, first against the federal crimes he was charged with and then in a civil case. He won the first after a jury found him not guilty of all charges and settled the second for $5.5 million.
He was pushed to the brink of life and credits his “hero” father and “beautiful” mother LaTonya Green for pulling him back, as well as his son LJ, who was born while he was still in hospital.
'Meeting the policeman who shot me'
The pair met in July 2021 at a hotel, joined by a senior police commander and a pastor close to Ford.
“The sight of Derbish startled me. I had once wanted to murder him, and somewhere in me, those feelings still existed,” Ford says. “The anger, frustration and confusion that I had suppressed surfaced for a second or two.”
However, as Derbish approached, Ford looked him in the eye and stretched out his hand.
“Then Derbish asked me: ‘Can I hug you?’ Without thinking I said: ‘Sure.’ And we did.”
Their embrace paved the way for a brutally honest account Derbish’s actions had had on Ford, with the officer then revealing he was inspired by Ford’s prominent activism and campaigning in Pittsburgh.
Ford has spent years trying to bring the city together to heal and set up The Hear Foundation with the city’s former chief of police Scott Schubert as a bridge between officers and the black community.
“Derbish said: ‘I want to be a part of whatever you’re working on.’ I was surprised,” Ford says. “I made it known that I was open to collaborating with him.”
A year before their meeting, Ford had met with Schubert and begun working on programmes in the city to address gun crime, police brutality and violence on the streets, where prison is seen as a “gladiator school” and opportunities to engage with law enforcement – outside of courtrooms and jail cells – is limited.
'People see me as Christ-like, but I'm not'
Ford has now published his memoir, An Unspeakable Hope.
It’s a raw and honest account of his journey to forgiveness, becoming a prominent activist and spearheading change in Pittsburgh.
“People see me like a Christ-like figure, especially in Pittsburgh, they think I’m perfect,” he adds. “But I’m not and I need to give context. It’s my humanity and my life experiences that give me the space to forgive and work with the people who hurt me.”
As a result, Ford’s book is a warts-and-all account of his childhood – from idolising his drugs kingpin father who was highly respected on the streets, to shooting somebody when he was only 14.
After Ford’s father was jailed, he followed him into the drug-dealing business selling marijuana – “I had $130,000 in cash in a shoebox under my bed at 18” – seeking, and earning, respect on the street.
Instead of listening to his father’s pleas to stay in school and stay away from gangs, Ford followed the life he was “preconditioned” for as a young man “surviving in the hood”.
He distrusted police, as everyone around him did, and he watched family, friends and loved ones killed in the streets by other members of his community.
“There was a lot of dysfunction, but also a lot of love,” he adds. “But if we’re able to lean into the love, we can be better – people aren’t inherently bad.”
A wake-up call in Dubai
After the shooting, Ford began building his profile in his community, speaking to schoolchildren, attending rallies and explaining the complexities of forgiveness to those who asked.
He even spoke at an international school in Dubai in April 2019, where one of his closest friends and mentors worked.
In his book, he recounts how the pair were outside eating ice cream when the sound of a motorbike backfiring sparked fears they were being shot at.
“We were so used to gun violence in Pittsburgh that the sound had triggered us,” Ford says. “But my experiences in Dubai left such a strong impression on me that I decided it was time to leave.
“For the first time in my life, I found myself in a foreign land contemplating what life could be like outside of America. It was inspirational to see someone who ran the same streets of Pittsburgh living well as an expat.”
Although he remains in Pittsburgh to help raise his son LJ, his activism and work continue to take him around the US and the world.
He has met and spoken with the likes of former US president Barack Obama, Twitter founder Jack Dorsey and Virgin boss Sir Richard Branson – even playing chess against the latter on his Caribbean Necker Island.
“Oh, he dominated me at chess, he’s a machine, one of the most amazing people I’ve met,” Ford says about their game last July.
He now runs The Hear Foundation, funding projects, training and supporting those recently released from prison and helping families affected by gun violence. He even executive produced the documentary Leon, which was screened at the Cannes Film Festival in 2019.
“I want to show that, if I’m able to meet the police officer who shot me, why can’t other leaders in our communities sit down and collaborate?” he adds.
“I want to offer a perspective that transcends police brutality – my book isn’t about police brutality; it’s about relationships, it’s about community and it’s about problem-solving.
“Be it police violence or community violence, everyone has a role to play.”
Leon Ford’s An Unspeakable Hope is available to download on Kindle via Amazon or order via www.leonfordspeaks.com
