POPE, Miss. — In the two weeks since Kohen Kartier Wiley was killed by a Senatobia police officer, there have been protests, marches, tear gas, demands for video and righteous anger.
But on Saturday afternoon, June 27, inside Hosanna Family Worship Center in Pope, Miss., the shouts for justice gave way to quiet, heavy grief. Mourning over a life gone too soon.
Hundreds gathered for final services for Kohen, the 1-year-old boy whose death outside a Senatobia Walmart has drawn national attention and renewed scrutiny of the city’s police department. The sanctuary was about two-thirds full, filled with reminders of the life at the center of the controversy — a baby boy who loved toys, cartoons and cutting grass with his toy lawnmower.
Images of Kohen with Bluey, the popular children’s cartoon character, appeared throughout the funeral program. Stuffed animals were placed around the sanctuary. And when Memphis attorney Van Turner stood to offer what the program described as a “call to justice,” Kohen’s parents stood beside him. Vel’lesiya “Punkin” Wiley, Kohen’s mother, held a stuffed Bluey toy in her arms.
“We need to celebrate this precious young soul today,” Turner said, “but then, on tomorrow, we have to do something about it.”
Kohen was killed June 14 after Senatobia police responded to a reported shoplifting call at Walmart. The Mississippi Bureau of Investigation has said officers attempted to stop a vehicle carrying two women and a child, and that the vehicle drove toward officers, nearly striking one, before an officer fired. Kohen’s mother, who said she was holding her baby on her lap at the time, has disputed that account.
Turner, working with national civil rights attorney Ben Crump, and the family have called for an independent autopsy and the release of police body camera, dash camera and Walmart surveillance video. At a news conference earlier in the week, Crump questioned how a reported shoplifting call involving diapers or pull-ups could end with police firing into a vehicle with a baby inside.
Turner returned to that point Saturday, but in language shaped by the setting — a church, a funeral, a family sitting with the unthinkable.
“There is nothing at that Walmart store that is more precious than a baby boy,” Turner said. “There is nothing that is man-made that is so precious that you would take the life of something that’s God-made.”
Kohen, he said, “deserved to live.”
“He deserved to go to school,” Turner said. “He deserved to have a life full of love. He deserved to make his parents proud.”
Turner also warned that after the funeral, the burden of care and protection for Kohen’s family would fall back on the community.
“After today, the cameras will go away,” Turner said. “The news reporters will go back, and it’ll only be you and them and Senatobia. So it’s up to Senatobia to stand up for this family.”
The funeral caps a week of public pressure and repeated calls for officials to release video of the shooting. Friday morning saw protesters gather again to march. Later that evening, after family visitation, a town hall meeting was scheduled.
But by Saturday afternoon in Pope, 30 miles south of Senatobia, the movement paused long enough to do what no protest chant could do: Sit with the grief of a family preparing to bury its baby.
The family and funeral leaders appeared determined to protect the sacredness of the moment. Media were not allowed to shoot photos or video inside the service, which was livestreamed. Before public remarks, the agenda guide reminded those gathered that the family had asked speakers to limit their comments to two minutes and keep the focus on Kohen.
“We have already had our call to justice,” she said. “They have asked that you limit your expressions to joyful thoughts of Baby Kohen.”
Joyful thoughts were braided with sorrow
The funeral program described Kohen as a beloved little boy who “passed into the arms of Jesus” at age 1. Born Nov. 1, 2024, at 10:23 a.m. at Northwest Mississippi Regional Center in Clarksdale, Miss., he weighed 5 pounds, 7 ounces. His family wrote that although his time on earth was brief, his life was filled with “laughter, love and light.”
“Kohen brought joy to everyone he met,” the program read. “He loved playtime with his mom, playing with his toys, and cutting the grass with his toy lawnmower.”
In a letter printed in the program, his mother wrote that for “one beautiful year and seven short months,” Kohen filled her life with a love beyond measure.
“You were my greatest blessing,” she wrote, “and I will hold onto the cutest smiles and the best hugs that you shared with me.”
His father, Daveon Williams, wrote that his son would always hold a special place in his heart.
“You are deeply loved and will never be forgotten,” he wrote.
Those who mourn
The eulogy, delivered by the Rev. Keri Henson of Hunter’s Chapel M.B. Church in Como, Miss., leaned into the tension every mourner in the room could feel: Faith does not erase grief. It helps carry it.
“Grief is real,” Henson said. “Grief doesn’t follow a schedule. Grief doesn’t ask permission.”
She told the family that their tears were not weakness.
“They are a sign of love,” Henson said. “And love was present in this life we are honoring here today.”
Henson described Kohen as “loved and adored” by his mother.
“He was all she had,” Henson said.
Preaching from John 14, Henson reminded the family that the promise of heaven does not make loss painless, but it does give the grieving somewhere to place their hope.
“For Baby Kohen, everything Jesus Christ promised has already come true,” Henson said.
Outside the church, Kohen’s small casket was carried by a group of children and placed inside a white, windowed, horse-drawn carriage. His parents climbed aboard. The horse turned west, leading the motorcade toward the burial site.
Behind him, a community left with both parts of Saturday’s charge — to grieve him fully, and then to fight for justice.
