For Koran Irvine: Why I Drive With Courtesy on the George Washington Bridge

On the night of Tuesday, October 20, I was sitting in traffic trying to get home to Rockland, like thousands of other people on the George Washington Bridge. Nothing was moving and nobody knew why. I was doing what we all do in that moment, checking my phone, looking for another way around, thinking about my family waiting for me at home.

Later that night I found out why the bridge was closed. A man named Koran Irvine had been shot on the New Jersey-bound upper level, just after 7 p.m. He was 46. He worked for Con Edison, and his family says he had stayed late at work and was on his way home. He was a husband and a father of two, a 14-year-old daughter and an 11-year-old son. He lived in Valley Cottage. Prosecutors say it started with a near collision between two cars, what police have called a road rage incident. He died at the hospital.

Why the George Washington Bridge shooting hit so close to home

I live in Rockland County too, not far from Valley Cottage. I'm a Black man, a business owner and a professional who commutes into New York City over that same bridge. When I read about Koran, I didn't feel like I was reading about a stranger. I felt like I was reading about a neighbor. He was doing the same thing I was doing that night, working late and trying to get home to his family.

I was hurt by it, and I still am. Some days it feels like a battlefield out there. We're all just trying to get to work, do our jobs and come home to the people we love. Nobody should lose their life on the way home from work.

The family is being represented by attorneys including Keith White. I've known Keith for a long time. I met him 10 to 15 years ago, back when I was working with Keyshia Cole, along with other Black men who became mentors to me and showed me what was possible. Those men are a big part of the reason I'm where I am today. I know Keith will fight hard for this family.

Why full accountability has to include police officers

The man charged in Koran's death is a retired NYPD detective. After his arrest, he was charged with murder. At his arraignment, that charge was lowered to manslaughter, and he was let out on $1 million bail. Koran's family called it a miscarriage of justice. On October 27, a grand jury indicted him for second-degree murder. He is presumed innocent, and it's up to the court to decide what happened on that bridge.

I'm not a lawyer, and I'm not going to judge this case before the court does. But watching the charge go down and then back up made me think about something a lot of us in the Black community have felt for a long time. When police officers are accused of a crime, it often looks like the charges come in lighter and the process moves differently.

I try to understand the other side. Officers are on the streets every day. They see traumatic things most of us never will, and that takes a real toll. It can wear a person down and make them numb to what they see. I respect the risk that comes with that job.

But they took an oath. That oath comes with responsibility, and it has to come with full accountability. Police have privileges that come with the badge. Getting away with a crime can't be one of them. Justice means the same rules for everyone, whether you wear a badge, used to wear one, or you're a Con Edison worker driving home to your family.

Why I drive with courtesy in New York City traffic

What I want to talk about is what the rest of us can do on the road every day.

I get cut off all the time. Anyone who drives in and out of New York does. When it happens, I check that my car and everyone in it is safe, and then I keep moving and put some distance between me and whoever caused the problem. That's it. I don't chase anybody down. I don't try to teach anybody a lesson.

The person who cuts you off might be rushing home to their kids. They might have just gotten bad news. They might simply have made a mistake, the same way all of us do. It's not personal, and it's never worth a life. When we react with anger, we turn a moment that should be over in five seconds into something nobody can take back.

The only person I can control on that road is me. I don't drink and drive. The thing I fight is being tired after long days, so I make sure I'm alert enough to get home safe. That's my responsibility to my family, and to every other family sharing the road with me.

So let's not escalate. Let a mistake be a mistake. Give people room. Drive with a little more courtesy than you think they deserve.

Keep your head up and keep pushing

There's a heaviness in the world right now, and a lot of people are carrying it. I understand feeling discouraged. I've felt it. But I don't want any of us to fall into that pit of feeling hopeless.

Stay strong. Be resilient. Take care of yourself and the people around you. Brighter days are coming. Keep your head up and keep pushing.

To the Irvine family

To Koran Irvine's wife, his children, his sister and his whole family, I'm so sorry. To his coworkers at Con Edison, to our neighbors in Valley Cottage and across Rockland, and to everyone who makes that commute every day, I'm sending love and my deepest condolences.

Please drive safe, everybody. Let's all make it home.