Ryan Hinton Was Murdered

On May 1, 2025, Ryan Hinton, an 18-year-old Black youth, was shot and killed by an officer of the Cincinnati Police Department (CPD). The state has called it "legally justified."

We call it what it is: murder. We reject every part of the state's story.

The truth is that Ryan was a Black teenager running from police, and for that, he was executed. The supposed justification—the mere presence of a gun—has been used time and time again to excuse the killing of Black youth in this country. We are told to accept it as routine, as regrettable but necessary. We refuse.

The entire incident, from the fall to the fatal shots, plays out in a matter of seconds. But that was enough time for an officer to kill, and the unclear and inconclusive footage enough for Prosecutor Connie Pillich to protect that officer from accountability. No grand jury, no trial, and no public process. Just a unilateral declaration: justified, necessary, legal.

But legality is not justice. The law has always worked to shield the enforcers of this system, from the slave catcher to the modern patrol officer. The courts exist not to restrain police violence, but to authorize it. The word "justified," in this context, does not mean "ethically correct." It means permitted, allowed, and expected.

Ryan Hinton had recently taken his senior pictures. He had a future. And in an instant, the state took that future away.

This was not an aberration or a mistake. It was the predictable outcome of a system that treats property as sacred and Black lives as expendable. The police were not sent to protect the community; they were sent to recover a car. That was their mission, and when Ryan began to flee, the officer chose to go beyond that mission by taking a life. This is not public safety.

In the days that followed, the state moved quickly to close ranks. The officer's identity was concealed under Marsy's Law. The prosecutor declined to press charges. And public officials began the familiar ritual: express performative sorrow, defend procedure, move on. But we will not move on.

This is not an exception. This is the norm for Cincinnati. On Saturday, April 7th, 2001, 19-year-old Timothy Thomas was shot and killed while running away from Cincinnati Police Officer Stephen Roach in Over-The-Rhine. In the two months prior, Thomas was pulled over 11 times and cited for 21 violations—most of which were for not wearing a seatbelt and for driving without a license.

Thomas was the fourth Black person killed by police since November 2000. Two weeks before Thomas was killed, a coalition including Cincinnati’s Black Citizens United and the ACLU worked together to charge the Cincinnati police with racial bias. Cincinnati police had murdered 15 other Black people since 1995 by that point (five years). Roach was acquitted of all charges.

Fast forward to 2003, those initial workings between the ACLU and Black Citizens United had finally come to a head in the form of the Collaborative Agreement. This document, described as unprecedented and later looked at as a model for police and community collaboration, would be instrumental in the manufacturing of the narrative that the Cincinnati Police Department, and its operations, are legitimate and subject to community input and criticism. It also helped establish the Citizen's Complaint Authority. To this day, Cincinnati ranks amongst the lowest in complaints against police being ruled in favor of the citizen in the country, clocking in at 14% according to city data.

Between 2003 to 2015, there was a massive shift in how CPD "worked" with the community, all set in motion by and in response to Thomas's murder, and informed by the Collaborative Agreement. A budding relationship with the University of Cincinnati (UC) had flourished into a system where consent for all police operations were manufactured by relying on the word of studies funded by UC's Criminal Justice program, with the primary goal of soliciting public buy-in. The two departments also worked together in, at the very least, determining zones and patrol routes, specifically for University of Cincinnati's Police Department (UCPD).

In 2015, Sam Dubose was shot and killed by UCPD Officer Ray Tensing. Prior to this, Dubose had been pulled-over more than 50 times in two decades with fines totaling above $12,000. Dubose was ordered to exit the vehicle. When he refused and tried to drive away, he was shot and killed. Tensing claimed that he only shot once the vehicle started to drag him. However, body-cam footage refutes this. All officer testimony refuted the claim of Tensing being dragged, as well.

Dubose wasn't a UC student. Tensing, an officer of UCPD, engaged Dubose on a street and neighborhood that, prior to 2009, wasn't considered UCPD territory. Only after a quiet agreement with CPD did UCPD expand patrols to neighboring areas, creating a "no-fly zone". This agreement was made in partnership with then-Cincinnati Police Chief James Craig, in form of a Memorandum of Understanding. Tensing was charged with murder and involuntary manslaughter. Two mistrials led to him being acquitted on both charges.

The Hinton, Thomas, and Dubose tragedies were not simply murders. They were messages and a warnings to every young Black person in Cincinnati: stay in line and obey, or you will be executed. CPD's message to every poor person struggling at the margins of this economy: your life is worth less than a car. And their message to every critic of police power? We can do this, and no one will stop us.

But we are not afraid. We have heard this message before, and we know how to answer it.

Ryan Hinton was murdered. Not by accident, and not by mistake, but by design. We will not let his name be buried under a prosecutor's press release. We will not accept a legal ruling as the final word on justice. We will not allow a stolen car to mean more than a stolen life.

The state has made its position clear. Now we, the people of Cincinnati, must make ours. And we must make it loudly, publicly, and with unwavering solidarity.