The Hardest Story to Write

unday, October 29, 2006


Bradley Roland Will 1970-2006
The Hardest Story to Write

New York, New York, US - I was preparing the entertainment Friday night for a Halloween Critical Mass after party, when a friend of mine in a dragon costume told me that people were looking for me, and that my longtime friend and roommate Brad Will may have been killed by gunmen in Oaxaca City, Mexico. Okay, I knew that at least nine people had already died since the Popular Assembly of the People of Oaxaca (APPO) took control of the city in recent months, but Brad couldn't really have been killed. They couldn't have shot Brad. After all he was a journalist, and a "gringo" journalist at that. Most importantly I knew Brad and I was expecting to see him tomorrow when he was due to return home, so how could he actually be dead.

Soon there were many people at the party who also knew Brad and no longer felt like celebrating. The horrible news had been confirmed, there were even pictures online, which I wish I had not seen.



When the paramilitaries arrived at barricade three in Santa Lucia del Camino Brad was ready, camera in hand. When the paramilitaries began firing live ammunition at the protesters they were answered with rocks, slingshots and fireworks. Brad armed with only his camera stood with them, until after a short lull in the shooting, he was shot twice in the chest. He died on the way to the hospital. Esteban Zurita Lopez and a teacher Emilio Alonso Fabian were also shot and killed at the barricades Friday.

Brad was equally comfortable doing yoga in Central Park with his raw foodist friends, singing with eco-hippies and activists at an Earth First! campfire out in the wilderness, and moshing along to a punk rock show at one of New York's City's scummiest, formerly illegal venues: C-Squat. He was a performer who loved to be up front with an acoustic guitar or a fireball spewing from his mouth. Brad was an anarchist, through and through; he believed in making the world a just place without hierarchy and oppression. His death was as political as the life he lived.

When a small non-profit collective group I work with began looking for a storefront, after loosing our lease at another space, Brad offered to put a substantial amount of money towards the project. Nobody asked him or expected him to, nor did he have any interest in having a say in the project -- he was just a generous person who cared about change and wanted to see more community spaces in the city.

Brad's presence was a ubiquitous presence in the NYC activist community. He had a lot of energy and was a part of a lot of struggles. When a young anarchist protester named Carlo Giuliani was shot by police Brad was outside the Italian consulate singing at the top of his lungs, his voice raw and hurt.

I've seen the land beyond these borders where the corporations rule
And they spin their lies and they globalize and the working man's their tool
And the streams are so polluted that their banks are bleak and bare
And the babies all are born deformed and the smog is everywhere
And the workers' wages dropped thirty percent in just one year
Now the greedy bastards want to bring that situation here

And you called upon me brother and you asked what could I do
And I told the truth dear brother, when I spoke these words to you:
I will stand beside your shoulder when the tear gas fills the sky
And if a national guardsman shoots me down I'll be lookin' him in the eye
And if I will wash their pepper from your face and go with you to jail
And if you don't make it through this fight I swear I'll tell your tale
And I will stay with you in the prison cell in solidarity
And I will not leave that cursed room 'til you walk out with me
For we the people fight for freedom while the cops just fight for pay
And as long as truth is in our hearts we're sure to win some day
I will not falter when the iron fist comes out of the velvet glove
I will stand beside you brother and defend this land I love

I've heard the tales from conquered islands where the sweatshop barons rule
Recruiting girls from the Asian slums to be the rich man's tool
And they're promised lives of luxury in the golden U.S.A.
And then they're stranded on these islands with their passports stripped away
And their aging fingers toil and bleed year after grueling year
Now the greedy bastard want to bring those same conditions here

And you called upon me sister and you asked what could I do
And I told the truth dear sister, when I spoke these words to you:
"I will stand beside your shoulder when the tear gas fills the sky
And if a national guardsman shoots me down I'll be lookin' him in the eye
And if I will wash their pepper from your face and go with you to jail
And if you don't make it through this fight I swear I'll tell your tale
And I will stay with you in the prison cell in solidarity
And I will not leave that cursed room 'til you walk out with me
For we the people fight for freedom while the cops just fight for pay
And as long as truth is in our hearts we're sure to win some day
I will not falter when the iron fist comes out of the velvet glove
I will stand beside you brother and defend this land I love

I've walked the tall and misty forests, pulsing vein from ancient time
And they'll cut the heart out of a mountain to kill the oldest thing alive
Now the rainforest dwellers smell a burning, and the 'dozers are close behind
Replaced with plantations and cattle, plowing under whatever they find
With the rain comes a raging mudslide, where the land was stripped and cleared
Now those greedy bastards want to bring those same conditions here

I've watched the oceans rolling, schools of fish running under the tide
Working fishermen grounding their bodies, starving on a hook and line
While industrial fishers haul in their nets, scoring the deep ocean floor
Dolphin and sea turtle snagged in those nets will ride those waves no more
They rip the heart out of the deep blue sea, their boats increase every year
Now the greedy bastards want to push their bloody products here

And you called upon me brother and you asked what could I do
And I told the truth dear brother, when I spoke these words to you:
I will stand beside your shoulder when the tear gas fills the sky
And if a national guardsman shoots me down I'll be lookin' him in the eye
And if I will wash their pepper from your face and go with you to jail
And if you don't make it through this fight I swear I'll tell your tale
And I will stay with you in the prison cell in solidarity
And I will not leave that cursed room 'til you walk out with me
For we the people fight for freedom while the cops just fight for pay
And as long as truth is in our hearts we're sure to win some day
I will not falter when the iron fist comes out of the velvet glove
I will stand beside you brother and defend this land I love
I will not falter when the iron fist comes out of the velvet glove
I will stand beside you brother and defend this land I love

- By Desert Rat and Brad