12 years after Ferguson
Twelve years after 18-year-old Mike Brown was shot and killed by a Ferguson police officer, his father, Mike Brown Sr., still grieves. But not like before. Today, Brown and his wife, Cal, operate “Chosen for Change,” a nonprofit that supports families grieving the loss of a child from tragic circumstances. The organization was founded as […] The post 12 years after Ferguson appeared first on St. Louis American.

Twelve years after 18-year-old Mike Brown was shot and killed by a Ferguson police officer, his father, Mike Brown Sr., still grieves. But not like before.
Today, Brown and his wife, Cal, operate “Chosen for Change,” a nonprofit that supports families grieving the loss of a child from tragic circumstances. The organization was founded as Brown Sr. tried to grapple with loss, guilt and even revenge.
That day, Aug. 9, 2014, still haunts his soul.
Brown received a call telling him his son had been shot and was lying in the street. After a brief but frantic drive, Brown and Cal arrived at Canfield Drive. Even though it was almost 100 degrees outside, a huge crowd had gathered. Police had the area cordoned off and used police dogs to keep everyone, including Brown, from approaching the body.
He vividly remembers warnings from two officers as he tried to get to his son.
“They said if I came any closer, they would shoot me,” Brown recalled.
Those were the hours that Brown revisits most. Standing in that crowd, he was in denial. His son’s body was covered, but the familiar Cardinals hat and flip-flops near the body weren’t enough to convince him Mike was gone.
Then he recognized a unique pair of his socks the sheet didn’t cover.
“That’s when I knew it was him,” Brown said. “That’s when it became real.”
During the following days, months and years, Brown said he was in various stages of shock, grief and fantasies of revenge.

Lawrence Bryant | The St. Louis American
“It was a long process, man,” Brown admitted. “I was angry and confused … asking myself over and over again, ‘Why did something so traumatic have to happen to my family?’”
Brown said media portrayals of Mike Jr. as a violent criminal or drug dealer hit him hard.
“The public or the media really didn’t know my son,” Brown stressed. “He was a bright young man who knew what he wanted out of life. … He was stripped of all that.”
Brown began blaming himself.
“You know, men are supposed to protect their families. I felt like I failed him.”
Brown said his son’s killer, Officer Darren Wilson, had a previous encounter with Brown Jr. months before the shooting — an encounter Brown learned about from his son.
“He called me on his way back from his grandmother’s house, saying that an officer with the nametag, ‘D. Wilson’ had stopped him and threatened to beat him with his nightstick,” Brown said.
Although his son insisted it was no big deal, Brown, in retrospect, still has regrets.
“I feel some kind of way because I didn’t file a police report. To learn — years later — that this was the person who murdered my son …”
Then there were the reappearing happy memories of Mike.
“I remember my son smiling, being silly,” Brown Sr. told St. Louis Public Radio in 2025. “Just a fun guy. Loved his grandparents. Treated them like they were his girlfriends. He just loved different. His character was just amazing.”
The father reluctantly revisited a conversation he’d had eight days before his son’s death. Mike had shared his ambitions for the future with his father after graduating from Normandy High School. He was two days from starting a training program for heating and air conditioning repair at Vatterott College technical school. Brown said he fully supported his son’s plans.
“I thought it was a good idea. Everybody needs heat and everybody needs air conditioning.”
Brown said he’d also had “the talk” with his son. He, too, had been harassed by police in his younger days. Because Mike had the look of an adult, he warned him to always be aware of his surroundings and to be extra cautious if police ever approached him in a threatening way.
Brown said the entire family underwent therapy which, he said, put him on the path to healing.
Searching for a way to continue Mike Jr.’s legacy in 2014, Brown saw a poster featuring his son’s photos beneath the words “Chosen for Change.” Months later, he and Cal founded the Michael Brown Sr. Chosen for Change Organization.
The nonprofit initially set out to help fathers. For Brown, it also became a way to rebuild his own life.
“Actually, my purpose was to reinvent myself and then help other fathers like me.”
The founding duo later expanded its services to any grieving parent who had lost a child to unimaginable violence.
Phyliss Adams, whose 20-year-old son, Ezell Walker Jr., was fatally shot in 2015, said Chosen for Change helped her find a path through grief.
“I’ve come a long way, thanks to Chosen for Change,” Adams said. “If it had not been for them, I don’t know where I’d be today.”
Adams isn’t alone. Atif Mahr, whose 19-year-old daughter, Isis, was killed in a 2021 drive-by shooting, also found support through Chosen for Change and now leads its Chosen Fathers program.
“It has brought my life full circle … and I’m so grateful,” Mahr said.
Last weekend, Chosen for Change hosted its “Legacy Weekend,” a series of events that included a fundraising fashion show, a rally and remembrance on Canfield Drive in Ferguson and a panel discussion exploring what real “justice” looks like.
“Our family never really got justice from the system,” Brown said.
The annual remembrances, the outpouring of support, the media’s attention each year and his work with other grieving parents have helped him cope, Brown said.

Lawrence Bryant | The St. Louis American
“My emotions have just returned. I’ve learned how to deal with grief and loss,” Brown said. “I’ve learned how to shield my heart from being so angry, so upset and so sad.”
Every year around this time, Brown said he’s surrounded by people who honor his son’s legacy. It helps him not dwell on the “death part.” he said.
“It does get sad, but every year, I can just think about the good parts of my son’s life. And I can hang onto that until I leave this earth.”
Sylvester Brown Jr. is the Deaconess Foundation Community Advocacy Fellow.
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