What The Hell America!

Sharon Jenkins received a late-night call at home in The Woodlands, Texas, from a Lubbock County officer the week of Thanksgiving 2024.

She was told there had been a “horrible accident” involving her son. 

The words hit hard. 

Although she understood them, she couldn’t quite process the reality. She never imagined her only child, a psychology major at Texas Tech University, would become another hashtag — a Black life killed by law enforcement.

One thing was certain — she needed to get 504 miles northwest to Lubbock as quickly as possible to understand what had happened. 

Jenkins’ 20-year-old son Erskin Charles Jenkins, was fatally shot by a Lubbock County sheriff’s deputy on Nov. 23, 2024, inside a Wolfforth home where a friend lived. Her disbelief turned into rage weeks later when she watched what she describes as a “heavily edited” montage of law enforcement officers’ body- and dash-camera videos. Unable to finish watching the short clip with Texas Rangers, Sharon said she immediately lost trust as the video contradicted the initial police statement and news reports that made it appear that her son had created a hostage situation.

Despite the limited insight into what happened four months ago, the case is still under investigation by the Texas Rangers, a division of the state’s Department of Public Safety responsible for investigating police shootings. 

Frustrated by the lack of transparency, Sharon, an accountant, funded and joined an independent investigation into her son’s fatal police killing — a costly option many families can’t afford — while also seeking online donations to keep fighting for answers. 

“My son was raised right. My son was no criminal,” Sharon, 50, said as she wiped away tears during a Zoom call in January. “This experience has really shown me that this system isn’t for us. They used the media to create a crafty way of changing who my son was to fit their narrative.”

The unidentified sheriff’s deputy who shot and killed Erskin has been placed on administrative leave with pay, according to the Lubbock County Sheriff’s Office. In a media release, authorities also misspelled and rearranged Erskin’s name. 

Law enforcement in Lubbock County are withholding evidence as the Texas Rangers continue their investigation, and not many details about the killing have been released.

Capital B has requested copies of evidence, such as 911 calls and video recordings, related to Erskin’s homicide investigation. All of the requests made to Lubbock County agencies — including the Sheriff’s Department, Police Department, Medical Examiner’s Office, District Attorney’s Office, and Department of Public Safety — have been forwarded to the Texas Attorney General’s Office for guidance.

“We were initially told he shot because he [the officer] was in fear for his life,” said Erskin’s stepdad, Elvis Kelly. But then what they saw was the complete opposite of a hostage situation, his parents said. 

“If you’re going to show us a video, then show us the whole video from the officer,” Kelly said. “I don’t want to see a partial.”

The night an officer shot and killed Erskin Jenkins

The Lubbock County Sheriff’s Office and the Wolfforth Police Department responded to a “disturbance involving an armed subject” in the 400 block of 14th Street at 10:17 p.m., according to the sheriff’s office. Before authorities arrived, they were told the suspect “Jenkins, Erskine Charles” was not only armed but also “threatening other people at the residence,” according to the media release. 

Most local news outlets that received initial information from law enforcement about the fatal police shooting, misreported Jenkins’ name.

The specific “weapon” that the suspect allegedly “brandished” before shots were fired wasn’t disclosed in the sheriff’s office media release. However, a custodial death report published on Nov. 25, 2024, by the state attorney general’s office, said the 20-year-old “showed up to a house gathering with friends to celebrate Thanksgiving” with a firearm. The report called Erskin’s death a “justifiable homicide.” 

“Erskine appeared to be intoxicated, emotional, and unstable during the gathering. Erskine began brandishing a pistol towards the occupants inside the residence, which resulted in an occupant calling 911,” according to the custodial death report.

According to a toxicology report provided to Capital B, his alcohol level was 8.220 — more than 100 times the legal limit of 0.08%. However, his family and friends dispute the findings of that report, insisting he had not consumed any alcohol, either with them or in social settings. 

Responding officers and sheriff deputies allegedly heard Erskin say from inside the house that “he needed to kill people,” according to the custodial death report. Police began “evacuating all occupants from the residence” when a deputy, who was removing a woman through a window in the backyard, said that the suspect allegedly pointed a weapon at the deputy from inside. In response, the deputy fired his rifle, killing him.

The shooting officer was described by officials as a 28-year-old “Hispanic or Latino” man, according to a Nov. 25, 2024, Peace Officer Involved Injuries or Death report. The report was provided to Capital B through a public information request. 

Weeks later, Sharon and Kelly, were shown the police version of the video evidence. Erskin’s parents took a deep breath before talking about Dec. 19, 2024 — a date now tied to anxiety. It’s the day when they sat in an office with Texas Rangers and their lawyer, preparing to watch Sharon’s only son’s final moments alive.

Sharon said in the body camera footage she saw her son was unconscious or asleep on a couch inside the house, when various female-sounding voices said with urgency, “help Erskin,” and that “he’s not himself because he doesn’t drink.” In the next video clip, she said, an officer outside of the house allegedly broke a window at the back, which startled or woke him up.

“He stood up, bent down, they assumed to pick up something,” she said. Sharon said at that moment the footage was stopped by one of the case detectives. Their lawyer, who was present, watched the rest of the footage, which showed the shots being fired, she said.

“I couldn’t bear to watch,” she added. “I asked if he pointed the gun… the attorney said he didn’t.”

This is not the first shooting death in Lubbock County

Unlike other cities where protests may erupt after a person is killed by law enforcement, Lubbock has seen no such demonstrations for Erskin, said Nicole Gocher, who was Erskin’s loctician. 

“This is something Lubbock [police] does and they get away with it, abusing their power,” said Gocher, who is a lifelong Lubbock resident. 

The city and county have a deep-rooted history of racial segregation and exclusion, according to a series published in the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal. Founded in 1909, Lubbock was largely unwelcoming to Black residents and by 1920 fewer than 200 Black people lived there, the article read. 

Lubbock wasn’t excluded from redlining and Jim Crow-era segregation that restricted Black residents to neighborhoods near the railroad tracks on the east side, limiting their ability to purchase property elsewhere. The Ku Klux Klan also maintained a presence in the area, reinforcing racial divisions and intimidation, the article reported.

These historical injustices have had lasting effects, shaping Lubbock’s racial dynamics and contributing to the systemic inequalities that persist today, according to the article.

Erskin’s family lived in predominantly Hispanic and white communities in Texas. His hometown in Harris County just outside of Houston, has a Black population of 4.1%, according to the U.S. Census. 

But in Lubbock County, Black and Latinx people are at least six times as likely to be killed by police as white people, according to the Police Scorecard. The website is a comprehensive data resource that provides metrics on 13,147 police departments and 2,878 sheriff departments across the country.

Since 2013, at least 200 Black people have been killed annually by law enforcement across the country, according to the Mapping Police Violence database, which began tracking fatal police killings that year. These numbers remained steady through the pandemic and after George Floyd’s murder. Texas leads the nation with 1,366 fatal police incidents, including 323 Black people who were killed by police.

Since 2014, Lubbock County has seen 16 fatal police incidents, including Erskin’s. The breakdown includes another Black man, one white woman, nine people who were Hispanic, and four white men, according to the Mapping Police Violence database. None of these investigations led to charges against an officer.

Two days after Erskin’s death, a Lubbock police officer seriously injured a Black woman shooting her six times during a verbal dispute with her husband. The woman’s mother, who was nearby at the time, said she heard no de-escalation commands. The police chief justified the shooting and confirmed the officer was on paid administrative leave.

“Something has to change in Lubbock, in Texas, after all of this is said and done,” said Sharon, who has spent upwards of $50,000 and counting on her mission for answers.

She hired a private investigator and attorneys to probe her son’s death after she said police became dismissive and unhelpful in her fight for justice. Her struggle is one many Black families face each year, regardless of the circumstances or how the investigation is portrayed. Even receiving a copy of the autopsy report has been a challenge, she said.

Black Lives Matter Grassroots is supporting the Jenkins family by providing support for their independent investigation, elevating Erskin’s name at rallies, and supporting them as needed. 

What really happened to Erskin Jenkins

Jabori Trussel received a late-night call from a mutual friend who witnessed the shooting. Trussel, who lives in Chicago and was Erskin’s friend, said his death left them all devastated, especially as media reports tarnished his character. Many who hadn’t heard directly from Erskin’s mom initially thought that someone else with a similar name was killed. Erskin was not identified as a Texas Tech student, which is where they all met.

“It didn’t sound like Erskin — drinking, rambling, pulling a gun out and waving it around,” Trussel, 21, said. “Erskin didn’t drink so that was strange. I never seen him drink before at all, not one beer.”

Gocher said the narrative written within hours of his death read as if they “didn’t try to de-escalate the situation with Erskin at all.” She also noticed that news articles on various websites were “updating to match the officer’s account” and it irritated her that they couldn’t “get his name right.”

Erskin, a sophomore at Texas Tech University, had dropped a class to help his family financially. Sharon said she wished he had been better advised about dropping the class and how it impacted his status as a student. The family was working on restoring his full-time status before his death, she said.

Since the prim-and-proper animal lover technically withdrew before his death, the university followed policy and didn’t consider him a full-time student. When students pass away, the university usually provides services and takes actions such as lowering the flag. But that did not happen after Erskin’s death because of his status, said Allison Hirth, assistant vice president of marketing, in an email.

When parents send their children to college, they hope institutions will additionally provide mental health support services, not just education, Sharon said. She and Kelly made sure their extremely shy son built a community during freshman orientation in 2023. There, he met his first friend, Rylan Edwards, along with Gocher, who gave him his weekly — sometimes even twice a week — haircuts, and became close with the Edwards family.

“We felt comforted knowing that they were friends,” Nikol Bowers Edwards, Rylan’s mother, said. “We knew right off that this is a good kid, pure at heart, not tainted.”

Erskin, who took six months to open up to Gocher after she initiated a conversation about psychology, later befriended Trussel and Esmeralda Flores in psychology and writing classes. It took a year for Erskin to respond to Flores’ first text. All of them said they have grown suspicious about what happened at the party that led police to the house.

Edwards, 20, lived at the Wolfforth home where Erskin was killed, but avoided the weekly parties because he said he felt unsafe. Edwards was not there the night Erskin was fatally shot.

“I told Erskin about the party but I wasn’t going to be there. He wouldn’t know anyone else there, so I was shocked he went,” Edwards said. “He doesn’t usually hang out with strangers — and to be drinking, that’s not Erskin… It’s suspicious. Why was he there?”

Edwards also said that the parties, mainly attended by people connected to the homeowners’ son, often featured the casual use of racial slurs in conversation. The son of the homeowner is Edward’s childhood classmate from Dallas.

“They have a propensity to say the N-word — a lot,” Edwards added. “I think something sinister happened. Erskin was the only Black person at that party.”

Edwards said after the killing, he returned to the home, which was back to normal days after it turned into a crime scene, to collect his belongings. He moved to a new place and never returned.

Sharon said she has so many questions that are left unanswered about her son’s death.

“When the funeral home picked up his body, all they gave me was a necklace and two hair ties, because his hair was long,” she said. “Where’s his [Erskin’s] phone, his wallet?”