Alex Pretti was a nurse. A caregiver. A man trained to preserve life. When he saw a woman being shoved, he did what many of us hope we would do. He paid attention. He tried to document what he believed was wrong. He stepped closer, not to wield a weapon, but to show concern. Within moments, he was tackled, sprayed with chemicals and shot. He did not leave that street alive.

I have heard the official explanations. I have listened to the language of fear, split-second decisions and perceived threats. I have heard calls for patience and assurances that the process will sort it out. I recognize this language because I have lived with it most of my life. It is the language that appears whenever power is questioned, and someone ends up dead.

When I was a young man working for civil rights, we were told similar things after bodies were found in jails, fields and rivers. I remember James Chaney. Andrew Goodman. Mickey Schwerner. They were civil rights workers, white and Black, standing up for people’s rights in Mississippi back in 1964. The very men sworn to enforce the law took their lives, instead. They told folks back then that they acted in good faith. They said those young men were resisting. But the truth came out, slowly and painfully, like it always does.

What pains me about Alex Pretti’s death is not just the loss of a life, though that alone should stop us cold. What pains me is how quickly the authorities moved to defend themselves before fully reckoning with what happened. How fast labels were applied. How instinctively force was justified. How easily the burden of proof shifted to someone who could no longer speak.

A nation reveals its soul in moments like this. If our first response is to protect authority rather than examine its use, then we are not guided by justice. We are guided by fear. And fear is a poor steward of power.

I say this with sorrow, not anger. America has a problem. This administration has a problem. It is a problem of priorities, of moral clarity. Something essential has gone wrong.

I have preached for decades that justice is more than law. Laws, after all, can be written to excuse cruelty. Procedures can be followed while conscience is ignored. But true justice demands humility. It demands restraint. It demands the courage to say, even when it is inconvenient, that something should never have happened.

Some will say it is unfair to draw lessons from the civil rights era. They will say this is different. I wish that were true. The names change. The agencies change. The language softens. But the structure remains. A citizen challenges authority. Authority escalates force. A life is taken. The system closes ranks. The country is urged to move on.

Age has slowed my steps, but I still know the difference between order and righteousness.

Alex Pretti did not wake up intending to be a symbol. He acted as an ordinary human being who refused to look away. That simple refusal has always been dangerous in America.

If we are serious about who we claim to be, then we must ask difficult questions. Why does accountability come so slowly? Why does compassion arrive after outrage? Why does standing up for someone else so often end in death?

I have buried too many people to treat this lightly. I have prayed with too many families whose loved ones were explained away. I do not believe America is beyond redemption, but redemption requires repentance and truth.

The truth is an American was killed for trying to protect another. The truth is something is deeply broken. Whether we choose to face that truth will define us.

Peter Johnson has been a civil rights leader in Dallas since 1969. He is a Dallas Morning News contributing columnist. His columns are written with assistance from Don Robinson, executive director of the Peter Johnson Institute for Non-Violence.