Hear Foundation Built on a Philosophy of Healing and Forgiveness

By Ron Cichowicz

Nov. 11, 2012 is a date Leon Ford likely will never forget. It’s a day when he nearly lost his life and—although he didn’t know it at the time—started a new one.

That evening, during a routine traffic stop, Ford, then 19 years old, was mistakenly identified as someone wanted by the law. In a panic he did what he later admits was a mistake: he sped away, not realizing at first that one of the police officers was in his passenger seat.

“He shot me five times,” he recalled. “Once in the neck, two times in the chest, once in the arm and once in the head.”

“When I woke up in the hospital, I found out three things,” said Ford, now 32. “One, I was now paralyzed. Two, I was arraigned from my hospital bed. And three, my son was born while I was in the hospital.”

Ford, who is black, said he didn’t immediately see his ordeal as a racial issue. But that eventually changed.

“When I finally recovered my cell phone and Googled my name, the first thing I read was ‘Black teen shot by white police officer,’” Ford said. “The journalist decided to write the story through a racial lens. But I hadn’t felt that way.”

Ford admitted the news report nagged at him. It also said that, during his attempted escape, he dragged the police officer alongside his car.

“I read the comments after the article and they were very racial and said some very bad things about me and my family,” Ford said. “That I deserved to be shot, my family deserved to be shot and that I was only looking for a big payday.

“I started to say I hated police officers and I hated white people.”

Ford said this all created internal conflict for him. After all, he had always had good relations with his teachers, most of whom were white. His grandmother was white, as were most of the doctors and nurses who treated him in the hospital.

“I had hatred and anger in my heart and I wanted to put it on somebody,” he said.

Ford’s surgery involved cutting him open from his shoulder to his waist to open his chest. A bullet remains lodged in his spine, which has caused paralysis that relegates him to a wheelchair. He was in the ICU until late December, then sent to a step-down unit and eventually endured months of physical therapy. His pain was so extreme that he posted a sign in his hospital room that said, “Don’t Touch Me!”

It was two years before Ford returned home, where he faced major adjustments. His house was altered to accommodate his wheelchair and he couldn’t go upstairs. He had to teach himself how to drive without the use of his legs.

“It was so scary to go home,” he said. “In the hospital, if you feel pain, you press a button. At home, I had the support of my parents, but I also had time alone. You don’t think about it, but sometimes a simple thing like getting a drink of water might take 10 minutes. It was a completely different life to get used to.”

As daunting as Ford’s physical challenges were, the hardest to overcome were emotional and spiritual.

“The mental and physical is so interconnected,” Ford said. “I could do things physically, but I still looked to blame people and being frustrated and angry.”

Ford said he grew up in an eclectic religious environment.

“We didn’t go to church and my family included Jehovah’s Witnesses, Muslims and Christians,” he said. “A lot of my relatives didn’t get along but we all loved each other.”

In the midst of it all, Ford said he drew much guidance from one person in particular.

“I noticed that my grandfather got along with everyone and didn’t judge anyone,” he said. “His philosophy was: ‘I’m a student of all religions but I practice love.’ So I adopted that spiritual philosophy in my life. It helped remind me of the different people in my life, especially white people, who love me.”

Ford recalled a particular conversation with his grandfather that motivated him to rethink his attitude regarding what had happened to him.

Ford recounted his grandfather’s words: “I’m married, I love my wife and I love my house. If your life turns out not to be much, I’m sad for you but I’m still going to have a good life. So if you want to have a good life, you have to figure it out for you.”

The words motivated Ford. Eventually the young man who previously work in his uncle’s body shop, pursued a commercial driver’s license, did some boxing and dreamed of producing movies became an activist who overcame his feeling of hate, replacing them with a commitment to bringing the police and community together.

Over the next few years and now acquitted of the charges brought against him, Ford organized rallies in various neighborhoods despite some groups ignoring his requests for support at first.

“I wasn’t the perfect victim because I had a juvenile record and there was this lingering story that I (dragged) the police officer,” he said. “Nobody wanted to champion that person. So I turned to social media to tell my story.”

Ford recalled his first rally, in East Liberty, drew about 600 people representing a mix of interest groups, neighborhoods and religious groups—from the Quakers to the Nation of Islam. Before long, Ford was asked to speak at school and youth organization meetings, as many as four to five a week.

Ford also worked to reconcile individuals in his neighborhood to avoid conflicts, including those that could easily have escalated into violence. These efforts included bringing people together to discuss their issues face-to-face and a social media project featuring videos of people relating their stories.

Despite these efforts, it took a question about a basketball summer league organized in honor of a murdered young man to force Ford to decide how far his commitment to healing his community would go.

“The Pittsburgh Police wanted to be a part of the summer league and I was against that,” Ford said. “My friends then questioned my commitment to reconciliation and called me out.”

It took time, but Ford eventually met with the police, including the officer who shot him during the traffic stop. Later, he and former Pittsburgh Police Chief Scott Schubert formed The Hear Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to building trust and collaboration between residents and police by convening, funding and implementing community-led initiatives.

“When I began to meet with Scott Schubert, I realized how much we had in common,” Ford said. “Activists and police officers want the same thing. We recognized that, mostly because of violence, mental health was an issue not only for residents but for law enforcement. We shared how much we cared about public safety and how the community had a role to play in it.

“We have to listen to people. So many have voices. That’s where the name comes from: The Hear Foundation. We listen to those voices and fund what they think is important.”

Cindy Haines, who joined The Hear Foundation as president and CEO last year, said the guiding principle of the organization is not to promote what it wants but rather what others want and need. The foundation provides funding currently through impact grants to support three main efforts: to heal trauma, reduce gun violence and advance workforce opportunities.

“The elixir to what we are doing, whether it involves depression, anger or physical pain, is connection,” Haines said. “Getting outside ourselves, connecting with others and knowing there are people with you and supporting you.”

The eventual goal, both Haines and Ford stressed, is to share their philosophy across the country.

“Once we have proof of our concept here, we want to share it with other cities,” said Ford. “It’s not about us becoming a national organization but rather to help others start their own organizations in their own cities.”   

Indeed, The Hear Foundation has lofty goals and quite a few challenges ahead. But none of that seems to intimidate Ford, Haines or those with whom they are collaborating.

It’s been more than a decade since Leon Ford climbed into his car and soon saw the flashing lights of a police cruiser ordering him to pull over. The facts of what happened to him on Nov. 11, 2012 will never change. His body was shattered and the dreams he held then were gone. But from that pain and anger eventually came redemption and forgiveness.

“After I was shot, I first had to take my power back,” Ford said. “That was part of the process. But going to therapy and seeing the benefits of bringing people together in the community who had real issues taught me how forgiveness frees you.

“That’s what changed for me. Then, my life was all about me. Now, I’m always thinking about other people and how I can help them and our community."

For more information about The Hear Foundation, including ways to support its mission, visit www.HearFoundation.com.