I Do See Color

I Do See Color

Amber Guyger faced 10 years in jail the same day I walked into the wrong apartment

How a knee-jerk reaction killed someone’s child

Shamontiel L. Vaughn's avatar
Shamontiel L. Vaughn
Oct 04, 2019
∙ Paid
Photo credit: Pixabay

I am one of the only people I know who enjoys jury duty. I think it’s important for a diverse group of peers to sit in on criminal and civil trials so people get a fair shot at telling their sides of the story. But I would have been a horrendous juror for the defense team in the Amber Guyger trial in which the former Dallas, Texas officer shot and killed 26-year-old Botham Jean. According to her own testimony, she believed Jean had broken into her own apartment, which was on a different floor. In reality, she’d broken into his home — with “1478” plain as day on it.

Recommended Read: “The trial that I recalled from #TalkAboutBias”


ADVERTISEMENT ~ Amazon

As an Amazon affiliate, I earn a percentage from purchases with my referral links. I prioritize featuring intriguing products from small businesses, women-owned businesses and Black-owned businesses. All five of my Substack publications include a MINIMUM of one product sold by a VERIFIED Black-owned business.
Accented Glory Cowrie Wooden Earrings, Cowry Shell Jewelry, Wooden Jewelry, Island Jewelry, Gift For Women, Spiral Shape

I just couldn’t buy into her story. I have had nine total mailing addresses, primarily due to college and work-related moves. And I have never gone to the wrong door in any of those addresses. Even if I ignore that there was a red doormat in front of Jean’s apartment, my skepticism was a bit simpler. If I had a blackout in my apartment right now, I’d know where every single piece of furniture, artwork and even my dishes were. I know where I live.

On top of that, simply looking at the floor and numbers on the door would tell me where I was. I’d never tried to open the wrong door — until I did.

Photo credit: MasterTux/Pixabay

As of today, I’ve completed 253 dog walks with 48 different dogs. I’m used to walking into apartments, condos and homes that I’m unfamiliar with. Less than 10 homes had someone at home, so I was particularly confused when I grabbed the keys to a dog’s home, unlocked a door and the smell of marijuana smacked me in the face. I stood at the top steps and called out for the dog, assuming he wasn’t crated. Then I happened to look by a wall and saw a pair of long legs moving. I leaned over, still at the top steps, and the long legs stood up.

Around the corner came a 20-something white guy. I smiled at him and said, “Hi, I’m here to walk your dog.” And his response was, “You need to get out. You have the wrong apartment.”

This post is for paid subscribers

Already a paid subscriber? Sign in
© 2026 Shamontiel L. Vaughn · Privacy ∙ Terms ∙ Collection notice
Start your SubstackGet the app
Substack is the home for great culture