The death of DeShawn Leeth, a 30-year-old Ohio man, could’ve easily been spun into a “George Floyd 2.0” narrative — and it’s certainly not for a lack of trying.
Early and ongoing accounts painted him as a “community leader,” priming him for martyrdom.
But body camera footage shattered that illusion, proving once again the value of unfiltered evidence.
Leeth’s fatal encounter with police on April 4, as reported by CBS News, sparked immediate sympathy. A GoFundMe page mourned him as a “dedicated community leader” whose “light was extinguished too soon.”
Without context, it’s certainly a compelling story: a black man killed by police, ripe for outrage. Activists were ready to cry systemic racism, likening it to George Floyd’s 2020 death.
But the truth wasn’t so tidy.
Any attempt to liken this to George Floyd was dispelled the moment the video was released. Body cam footage from the Ohio State Highway Patrol told a different story, one of aggression, not martyrdom.
The community activist and charity worker was immediately hostile with an officer on contact, eventually striking him and stealing the patrol car. Leeth crashed a vehicle on the Ohio Turnpike, then attacked the responding trooper, per WKBN-TV.
The officer who first made contact with him was wearing a body camera, however. What it showed dispels any notion of a peaceful suspect. Leeth charged the trooper, knocked off his camera, and overpowered him in a violent struggle.
The entire clip has since been widely shared on social media, which you can view for yourself below:
WARNING: The following video contains footage that some viewers will find disturbing.
From Nonprofit Leader to Fatal Pursuit: The Final Hours of Deshawn Leeth
On April 4, 2025, an Ohio trooper approached a man, now identified as 30-year-old Deshawn Leeth, who had crashed his vehicle on the side of the turnpike near the state line. After about 20 seconds, the man… pic.twitter.com/oluCHq48Wa
— Police Incidents (@PoliceIncident) April 16, 2025
Before body cameras, there would have been no time wasted turning Leeth into a martyr. Social media would’ve exploded with hashtags, and protests might’ve erupted before the facts emerged.
(Heck, all of that almost still happened, regardless.)
Leeth’s behavior suggests a mental health crisis or drug influence. He rambled incoherently during the chase, rebuking “anything behind me.” But his actions — assaulting an officer, stealing a cruiser — were inarguably and undeniably dangerous.
Pennsylvania State Police ended the pursuit by flipping Leeth’s stolen cruiser. As they approached, he resisted, leading to his fatal shooting. The footage leaves little room for debate: this wasn’t a targeted killing.
Body cams have flipped the script on race-peddling narratives. Leftists who pushed for cameras, expecting a flood of police brutality evidence, now face inconvenient truths. Leeth’s case doesn’t fit their mold.
The initial whitewashing of Leeth’s actions shows how quickly stories can be twisted. Without video, his “community leader” label might’ve stuck, fueling division.
Funny how body cams, once championed by activists, now undermine their claims. Police aren’t always the villains when footage tells the full story. That’s not so neat and clean, is it?
To be clear, this isn’t to dismiss Leeth’s humanity. Mental health struggles are real, and his death is tragic. But painting him as a saint distorts reality and dishonors truth.
Body cameras protect officers and civilians alike. They cut through spin, forcing us to confront facts over feelings. In Leeth’s case, they stopped a false narrative.
The rush to martyr Leeth ignored his violent choices. Footage shows he wasn’t hunted — he was a threat. That clarity matters to the blind eye of justice.
Without body cams, we’d be mired in speculation, with riots looming. Instead, we have transparency, however brutal. That’s a win for truth, no matter how painful the circumstances may be.
Leeth’s case reminds us: narratives aren’t facts. Body cameras ensure we don’t confuse the two, no matter how loudly activists scream.
Police deserve scrutiny, but so do suspects. Videos like this keep the conversation honest, sparing us another divisive myth-turned-“mostly peaceful” rioting.
Body cams saved this from becoming George Floyd 2.0. They’re not perfect, but they’re proving indispensable.
Let’s keep them rolling.
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