- April 25, 2024
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Marie Turner lives at 61 Brownstone Lane, the same house where her grandson, Troy Gordon, 32, was shot and killed by deputies on Dec. 15, 2012.
With her health deteriorating, she maneuvers around her home in an electric wheelchair. When I visited her on Aug. 26, she was chilled because the air conditioning was down to 69 degrees and she wasn’t able to reach the thermostat to adjust it. The television was blaring so loudly we could barely hear each other, but she had a hard time adjusting the volume, so I turned it down for her.
She contacted the Palm Coast Observer in light of the recent court case written about on this page, revealing that the deputies who fired the shots did not write reports of the events of that day.
Witnesses stated that Gordon threatened the deputies with a machete. They said that even after deputies stunned him with a Taser, Gordon continued to be a physical threat, necessitating the fatal shots. The State Attorney’s Office cleared the deputies, saying their use of force was justified.
This is her version of what happened.
Marie Turner
From the time they came in my house, the young rookie policemen, they didn’t ask me anything, they just came in and walked right past me to the laundry room in the garage, and started kicking on the door.
I was standing by the kitchen sink. It was happening so fast, I was in a little cyclone. You don’t know what’s going to turn out.
Troy was inside the garage, not even knowing the police was coming. He was sad all day, walking up and down the street, worrying about those children that was killed in Connecticut, at the school. Because we’re from Connecticut.
And he’s locked himself in there. When they got in there, he was holding a machete. He was always working on the yard with it and he would climb up and cut the palm trees. He was in the habit. I don’t know why he was walking around the street with it, but he was talking to God, and the Lord must have told him to go in the garage and stay quiet. So he did.
And now people are kicking on the door. If someone came to my house and I was locked in, and they’re kicking on the door, I would have something, too.
I heard them say, “Open this door, Troy.” I heard him say, “No, no, no, no, no.” The next thing I heard was gunshot: pop, pop, pop, pop, pop.
And then it was policemen coming out of the laundry room. A policewoman was holding a big yellow roll of tape, and when I seen that roll of tape, I knew that somebody was dead.
I said, “Where’s my grandson?”
The policewoman said, “Troy didn’t make it.”
“What do you mean, ‘Troy didn’t make it’?”
They just snuffed him out and went on about their business, and that was the end of it.
I told them right then and there, “You murdered my grandson. This is how you do? Your life don’t mean anything no more?”
The FDLE report said he fell down and was trying to get back up. That’s when they put 10 bullets in him. They shot him in the back of his head.
They could have shot him in the leg or someplace. They didn’t have to shoot him in the back of the head. He would have come out of the garage eventually.
But instead, he lay there on the concrete floor, losing his blood.
For the funeral, I understand that my grandson was in bad shape. They didn’t know whether they was going to be able to show his body. Bullet holes around his neck. I just let it out when I saw him at the viewing.
Something needs to be done about what they did to me. He was my caretaker. He took excellent care of me. He loved me. And they came in my home, killing my grandson and walking away, and not saying nothing to me. They never said sorry, they just walked away, like, they killed him and that’s the end of him.
It’s been almost two years now. It’s getting a little better. I used to cry all the time. But something needs to be done. They came and talked to people, but no one can tell the story like I can. I can tell the story better than anyone.
I have my moments. I went through this tragedy all by my cold self. Sometimes, I just come into the house, and I call out to the Lord. I’ll never get over it.
