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'Who do I call?': Justine Damond march unites communities in fear over policing

Minneapolis: As a lone Aussie flag hung in the cool evening air, hundreds took to streets that were home to Justine Damond, to protest against the Australian healer's death by still unexplained police gunfire – in a rally that marked rare black-white unity on the vexed issue of police killings in the United States.

Wearing an "I am Philando" T-shirt in memory of his friend Philando Castile, who was gunned down by Minneapolis police in July 2016, Black Lives Matter activist John Thompson was warmly received when he told his predominantly white audience: "I never thought I'd have to speak on behalf of a white woman killed by a police officer.

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'Justine didn't have to die'

Minneapolis police chief Janee Harteau has dedicated her team towards getting justice for Justine Damond, stating she 'didn't have to die' after being shot and killed by a police officer responding to a 911 call.

"I wouldn't call the police, but she called the police because she thought she was safe."

After making a 911 call to report what she believed to be a sexual assault taking place in the alley behind her Washburn Avenue home, on Minneapolis' Southside, on Saturday night, Damond ventured out to investigate – and was killed by gunfire as she approached the driver's side of a police squad car.

On Thursday afternoon, Minneapolis police chief Janee Harteau returned from leave to make her first public appearance on a killing that has plunged her force into crisis. Conceding she had her work cut out to regain public trust, she said: "Justine didn't have to die ... this should not have happened."

Referring to a slogan that adorns the side panels of Minneapolis squad cars, the police chief said: "You'll find the words 'to protect with courage and to serve with compassion'. This did not happen."

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Harteau upbraided the two officers who responded to Damond's 911 call for not activating their body cameras.

But despite warnings that such killings had to be treated as a force-wide challenge, Harteau singled out Somali-American rookie officer Mohamed Noor, whose shooting of Damond was "one individual's action" that should not reflect on the whole Minneapolis Police Department.

She shed no new light on the circumstances of the shooting, instead piling full responsibility on Noor: "The actions in question go against who we are as a department, how we train and the expectations we have for our officers - these were the actions and judgments of one individual."

Thursday evening's twilight memorial march confirmed the fear in the police chief's declaration that she was "disheartened, [but] I understand the fear [of calling the police] and why it exists".

As a placard-waving crowd of about 400 moved along Washburn Avenue, it chanted enthusiastically: "No justice, no peace, prosecute the po-lice" –  a slogan rarely heard beyond Black Lives Matter gatherings.

There was a poignant pause outside Damond's home, where her fiance Don Damond emerged, tearful and barefooted, to be embraced by Valerie Castile, the mother of Philando Castile.

The marchers were subdued and at the same time feisty.

Most of the placards were homemade and one cleverly made fun of the law-and-order lobby's borrowing and twisting of the Black Lives Matter slogan into  "Blue Lives Matter" - a reference to the uniform colour of most police forces in the US. For Thursday's march it was rewritten to read "Blue Lies Matter".

On reaching a park several blocks from the Damond home, one of the first speakers was Sharon Damond, who was to have become Justine's mother-in-law and who joined hands with Valerie Castile.

"Justine was struck down," she said. "And now we know that any child can be struck down."

In a deliberate embrace of Officer Noor, she added: "This is not about racism … we stand with the Somali nation and its culture."

Speakers like Sarah Kuhnen, also a near neighbour, spoke passionately; admitting to what they now felt was a white person's false sense of security in dealing with the police.

"I felt completely safe living here for 28 years, but today I stand before you feeling scared – I don't feel safe in my neighbourhood any more. I've never had to worry about my safety in calling the police – but that's a luxury that people of colour don't have.

"Who do I call when I need help – the police?"

The crowd cried out: "No!"

Demands were read out and embraced by acclamation – that Noor be fired if he maintains his refusal to talk to investigators; that he charged over Damond's death; that there be an independent federal investigation of the killing; and that any police audio recording of the encounter in the alley be released.

The woman with the Aussie standard was Rochelle Gifford, who lives near the Damond household. She said her Perth-born husband had allowed her to borrow his precious flag because of the seriousness of the occasion.

"This is happening in my back yard," she said of the shooting. "It could have been my 18-year-old daughter coming back from the movies; or me returning from shopping. I called the police recently about a stolen bicycle – should I be scared now?"