Get to the Other Side of the Moment

One life lost, one future imprisoned, and a lesson our sons cannot afford to ignore

Category: Culture & Commentary
By: The Black Baby Boomer

Editor’s Note: This commentary is based on publicly reported information and reflects a personal perspective on youth, violence, accountability, grief, and the justice system. It is not intended to retry the case, dismiss the jury’s decision, or minimize the pain of either family.

Some stories are bigger than the headline.

They are bigger than the courtroom.

They are bigger than the argument people have on Facebook before they even finish reading the facts.

The tragedy involving Austin Metcalf and Karmelo Anthony is one of those stories.

One young man is dead. Another young man may spend decades in prison. Two families are grieving in different ways. Two communities are left trying to understand how a moment at a high school track meet could turn into a lifetime of pain.

And somewhere, right now, there is another young man standing near the edge of a decision that could change everything.

That is why this must be said plainly:

Get to the other side of the moment.

Whatever it costs your pride, it is cheaper than what comes after.

This is not about making excuses. This is not about choosing one family’s pain over another. This is not about turning a young man into a martyr or forgetting the life that was lost.

Austin Metcalf mattered.

His family’s grief matters.

Karmelo Anthony’s future matters too, even while he must face the consequences of his actions.

That is the uncomfortable truth. And grown folks know life is full of uncomfortable truths. We do not get to pick only the easy ones.

A quick decision can cost more than you can afford. A flash of anger can become a prison sentence. A moment of pride can leave one family at a graveside and another family at a prison visit.

That is not drama.

That is real life.

For young Black men especially, the stakes are even heavier. We can talk about personal responsibility and still tell the truth about the system they may face. We can say, “You made a choice,” and still say, “The justice system does not always hand out mercy evenly.”

Both things can be true.

That is the kind of wisdom our sons, grandsons, nephews, students, and young brothers need before the moment comes — not after.

They need to know walking away is not weakness.

They need to know silence can be strategy.

They need to know every insult does not deserve a response.

They need to know every argument is not an assignment.

They need to know pride is expensive — and prison does not offer refunds.

There is a moment before the moment. That small space where you can still breathe. Still step back. Still call somebody. Still leave. Still live.

That is where the teaching has to happen.

Not at the funeral.

Not at the sentencing.

Not during the prison visit.

Before.

We have to teach our young men to fight differently. Fight in classrooms. Fight in courtrooms. Fight in boardrooms. Fight at ballot boxes. Fight with discipline, patience, knowledge, and longevity.

But do not throw your whole life away under a tent, in a parking lot, at a party, in a gym, on a sidewalk, or in front of people who will go home while your family is left crying.

Being alive and free is not cowardice.

It is victory.

So to every young man reading this:

You are not disposable.

Your future is not worth losing over somebody’s words.

Your mother’s tears are not worth a moment of pride.

Your freedom is not worth proving you are tough.

Get to the other side of the moment.

Let them talk.

Let them laugh.

Let them misunderstand.

But you go home.

You stay free.

You keep building.

Because life is too short — and too precious — to be surrendered to a single second.

Teach them.

Talk to them.

While there is still time.