Part I: How a Ugandan became an American police shooting statistic
On what would be the last day of his life, Alfred Olango showed up at his sister’s apartment in El Cajon, California, in the morning hours. His knocking woke her up.
Alfred was acting strangely – confused, paranoid – and said he hadn’t slept for two days. Lucy Olango, an aide in a psychiatric facility, recognized signs of a mental breakdown.
So she called the 911 emergency number to report that Alfred was mentally unstable and needed hospitalization. It was the first of three such calls she made, pleading for help.
More than an hour later, El Cajon police did respond, although not with the help Lucy expected. As she watched in horror, Alfred was shot four times during a tense encounter with officers. Although he was unarmed, he made a gesture that looked as though he was pointing a gun.
The death of Alfred Olango, 38, on Sept. 27, 2016, was among several captured on video in a year when anger over U.S. police shootings, particularly of black men, rose to new heights.
But his case stood out: His status as a Ugandan refugee brought international attention not only to the issue of race, but to how police react to people with psychiatric problems – a factor in about 25 percent of all fatal civilian encounters with police.
For those reasons, VOA and NBS-TV in Kampala teamed up to more closely examine what happened after Lucy Olango called for help – and whether the shooting could have been prevented.
Our finding: Although Alfred Olango took actions that put him at risk, the system designed to defuse encounters between police and the mentally disturbed also failed him.
A special police team to respond to mental health calls was on duty that day in El Cajon. Previously, local authorities said the two-person Psychiatric Emergency Response Team (PERT) was busy elsewhere and unavailable to respond to Lucy Olango’s calls.
But in answer to a public records request from VOA and NBS, the city of El Cajon released documents – summaries of 911 call records – showing that, in fact, the PERT unit did become available. Although Lucy Olango waited nearly an hour for help, the special psychiatric team was sent to a possible trespass at a youth club.
The summaries for the youth club call make no mention of a mental health issue and the situation resolved without an incident report.
Meanwhile, the Olango call ended in tragedy – one of 963 police shooting fatalities in the U.S. during 2016, according to a count by The Washington Post. (There were 987 such incidents in 2017, according the Post's statistics.)
The local district attorney ruled that El Cajon police Officer Richard Gonsalves was justified in using deadly force when Alfred Olango pointed a vape pipe – for electronic smoking – at him during the encounter. Officials said Olango took what looked like a shooting stance.
But Lucy Olango, Alfred Olango’s estranged wife and two of his three children, and his father have sued the city and Gonsalves, claiming emotional distress and violations of Olango’s civil rights.
Now, the 911 call summaries reveal a new element in the tragedy – a missed opportunity for the unit trained for such incidents to intervene.
“This was a big mistake not sending that PERT team to this (Olango) call because they had every evidence needed that this was the call that required the PERT team,” said Daniel Gilleon, the attorney representing Lucy Olango.
Lucy Olango said Gonsalves used an aggressive approach that only increased the tension with her brother when de-escalation tactics could have helped to calm him down.
“Pulling your gun and saying ‘Put your hands up’ is not a way you come at a person who is having a mental breakdown,” Lucy told VOA and NBS.
“You haven’t even engaged in with this person. You did not find out what was wrong. Can I help you? What is wrong? Is there something that I can do?” she said.
From northern Uganda to US
Alfred Olango was born in Lukutu Village in northern Uganda in 1978, a middle child among nine in his family.
His father, Richard Olango Abuka, wrote on Facebook that he served with the Ugandan National Liberation Army before being exiled to Kenya. The family spent time in a refugee camp before being allowed into the United States in 1991. They settled near San Diego, where there is a diverse community of African immigrants.
Richard Olango Abuka quickly established himself, winning a “Point of Light” award from then-President George H. W. Bush for helping other African refugees. He studied to be an accountant and coached children’s soccer.
Walter Lam is president and CEO of the Alliance for African Assistance, a nonprofit that helps settle refugees and works with underprivileged and immigrant communities around San Diego.
“Normally when I see the refugees coming down the escalators, I can tell whether this will be a successful case or will be a bad end. And when I saw the Olangos, I celebrated,” Lam said. “This is a family that looks unified; they are all together and on and on.”
The Olango children went to a Catholic school, then on to San Diego High School.
Pamela Benge, mother of Alfred breaks down at a news conference
Alfred's siblings say he was jovial, protective and generous.
“Alfred was someone who always made sure you were fine,” said his brother Apollo Olango. “He’s given his shirt to a homeless person while we were walking down the street in San Diego. Apparently he had an extra one in the car.”
But growing up in an adopted country wasn’t always easy. Starting in his teen years, Alfred Olango tumbled into a string of run-ins with the law.
At age 17, he was convicted for taking a car without consent. Three years later came a conviction for receiving stolen property. Two convictions for driving under the influence followed, as did another for selling drugs.
Then, one night in late 2005, police in Aurora, Colorado, stopped his car for having tinted windows and found marijuana, two hits of the amphetamine ecstasy and, under a floor mat, a 9mm semiautomatic pistol. Officers ordered Alfred Olango out of the car at gunpoint, police reports state.
As a felon, it was illegal for Olango to possess a gun; he said it was for protection. A judge sentenced him to 46 months in federal prison and three years of probation.
After his release from prison in 2009, Alfred Olango returned to the San Diego area and found work as a cook. Apollo and Lucy Olango said Alfred was estranged from his wife, but relished spending time with their daughter.
He dreamed of opening his own restaurant one day – featuring African and other cuisines. “He was one of the best cooks as well,” sister Lucy recalled. “I beat him at cooking so far, but mom taught us and all of them how to cook. It didn’t matter whether it was a boy or girl – everybody.”
Apollo Olango said that by the time of the shooting, his brother had left his rough times behind.
“All I can say in that particular situation, when you come to a new country, sometimes it’s difficult learning the ropes,” Apollo Olango said. “But I believe he put himself on the straight and narrow track eventually and started walking a direct line.”
Editor's note: This story is the result of a reporting collaboration with NBS-TV and VOA.
