COUNTRY CLUB HILLS, Missouri — Michael Brown Sr. sat in the front row of a little storefront church on Sunday, his head slightly bowed as the pastor delivered a thundering sermon on slow justice and children taken too soon.
At one point, the congregation drew close, clenching their eyes in prayer and extending their hands toward Brown, a father still grieving the death of his son, Michael Brown Jr., killed two months ago in nearby Ferguson.
“As I said last Sunday,” the Rev. Carlton Lee said, “there is a war going on against our young men.”
Brown Sr. nodded softly.
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The killing of Brown’s unarmed 18-year-old namesake by a Ferguson police officer on Aug. 9 rocked the family to its core, but also drew a fault line across race and class lines that has extended from the region throughout the nation. The family has kept a relatively low public profile since the younger Brown’s death, addressing the occasional crowd of supporters or leading marches in Brown’s honor.
But in a rare interview on Sunday, Michael Brown Sr. spoke exclusively with msnbc, detailing how his faith has helped him power through his grief, and how the pressure to fight for justice for his son belies his broken heart.
“To be honest, it’s a whole lot on my back now. It’s a situations where I’m not going to never heal in the inside,” Brown Sr. said, standing outside of the Flood Christian Church, about a two-minute drive from where his son was shot. “I can get by maybe day by day. People probably look and see me, probably think that I’m doing OK and I’m really not.”
“It’s just something I have to work on, just stay prayed up and be positive to people around the world and other folks, the people that need me to be strong with them,” he said. “Because we have a lot of support and I have to be strong for other people, too.”
This weekend, thousands of Brown family supporters including many from out of state, descended upon Ferguson for what organizers have billed as a “Weekend of Resistance,” in which protesters have marched, rallied and staged acts of civil disobedience. Hinged on calls for justice for the slain young men, organizers say the actions are to broaden the call for justice for countless nameless, faceless young people killed by cops each year and end to police brutality.
“I get my strength from a higher power. It’s hard to explain because I actually don’t even know how I’m moving around, but he does,” Brown said, glancing up into the clouds. “It’s petty hard. It’s just hard, it’s hard, it’s hard.”
On Saturday night, Brown’s mother, Lesley McSpadenn, led a two-mile march of a hundreds from the scene of her son’s killing to the Ferguson police department. A hush fell over the awaiting crowd as they parted to make way for McSpadden and members of her family. McSpadden, with dark sunglasses on her face, never addressed the crowd, which had swelled to about 1,000 people.
A family member grabbed a bullhorn from one of the protesters and asked them to remain focused.
“Peace, peace, peace,” he called out.
The events came just days after the killing of another black teen by police in nearby St. Louis addend an extra jolt of anger as protesters there have tangled with police and question the police version of events in that case.
The family of that teen, Vonderrit Myers Jr., 18, was scheduled to attend services at Flood Christian on Sunday, but in the middle of Rev. Lee’s sermon he received a text from the teen’s father cancelling.
“I just can’t move,” Lee said the text read.
Drenched in sweat and undoing his tie, Rev. Lee lamented that neither teen, both 18, both their father’s namesake, never got the opportunity to grow into men because officers “decided to be judge, jury and executioner.”
Police say Myers shot at an off-duty officer with a 9mm handgun, which jammed after Myers squeezed off three shots. The officer responded by firing 17 shots, police said.








