By Jesse L. Jackson Sr. | SACOBSERVER.COM WIRE SERVICES

(NNPA) - On the Sunday following Thanksgiving, Nathaniel Jones, a Black man, died from a police beating in Cincinnati; his death was ruled a homicide by the coroner. The official response seems almost scripted. The police chief defends his men. The union president says that the police, caught on tape repeatedly beating the victim with their aluminum nightsticks, "exercised restraint." The mayor defends the police chief. The coroner rules that the victim had drugs in his system.

But this is Cincinnati. The victim was the 18th Black man to die in custody of the police since 1995. In the same period, only one White man has died. Only two years ago, Cincinnati was shaken by riots caused by a White policeman shooting an unarmed Black teenager who was running away. Try to imagine what would happen if a White man died after being beaten on tape by Black police officers, after 17 other White men had died in custody of a largely Black police force. The governor would step in. The Justice Department would act. The national press would descend.

The police have released a videotape that shows an angry Jones, a 350-pound man, lunging and taking a swing at a policeman. That tape answers all questions for many in Cincinnati. "I wouldn't say he got what he deserved," said one anonymous caller on a radio call in show, "but he got what he started."

But for those who knew Nathaniel Jones, it doesn't make sense. Jones was known as a gentle man, a churchgoer, attentive to his teenage sons who lived in Cleveland. He had just returned from Cleveland early on a Sunday morning. He went to a White Castle restaurant, where he was a regular, to meet with two waitresses who were his friends. He was not a threat to them. He was not armed, and not hostile. Due to drugs or fatigue or illness, he started acting funny, dancing and jumping around. He went outside and passed out. The restaurant called for emergency medical assistance. By the time the paramedics arrived, Jones had been revived.

The paramedics thought Jones was acting erratically and called the police. Police arrived with the camera running in their cruiser. But in the tape that police released, there is a one minute and 37-second gap. Something happened in that gap to turn a jovial gentle man into an angry one, willing to take a swing at an officer. Police claim that the camera was turned off because they were certain that everything was under control and then turned on again when it went out of control. Given Cincinnati's history, it would take a heroic act of faith for the African American community to believe that.

More telling, the paramedics left the scene when the police arrived. That probably caused Jones his life, since they were not there to deliver CPR or render other assistance, and the police left him lying on his face, his hands handcuffed behind his back for crucial minutes without moving to help. Did the firefighters leave because they didn't want to witness the beating that started to take place?

Jones' aunt and his grandmother object strongly to the way the media has portrayed Nathaniel Jones. He was "never violent," says his grandmother. He was a "loving man," says his aunt. They want to know what provocation made him so angry.

They want an investigation and justice. But they have also called on Cincinnati to learn to live together, and called on the African American community to stay calm. The city's ministers cancelled a planned protest march to honor the spirit of their concerns.

Surely, the relatives of the victim should not be the only responsible people in the city. For African Americans, police brutality is still too widespread. Justice is still too scarce. The police who beat Rodney King in Los Angeles walk free. The police who shot Amadou Diallo in New York walk free. The policeman who shot Timothy Thomas in Cincinnati walked free. Eighteen Blacks killed while in custody of police in Cincinnati. A minute and 37-second gap on the police tape - a gap at the very moment of provocation.

Mayor Charlie Luken has responded with a public relations campaign, urging the media to play the tape, jumping in defense of his city. He seems oblivious to the fears of the Black community. "We've gone through a culture change in Cincinnati," he says.

"We still have a problem in Cincinnati," says Juleana Frierson, staff director of a leading civil rights group. "We need a cultural change in the police department. These policemen are still allowed to kill."

The gulf between those statements speaks for itself.

It is time for the Justice Department and the governor and the mayor and the police chief to exhibit the same kind of concern for the city as Nathaniel Jones' grandmother and aunt have shown. It is time for them to act to bring the city together. The way to do that is not to wage a public relations campaign, but to wage a campaign for justice and accountability for the citizens of Cincinnati. After the riots two years ago, Cincinnati started down the path of reform. But clearly it has a long way yet to go.

Jesse L. Jackson Sr. is founder and president of the Chicago-based Rainbow/Push Coalition.