In Ghost Boys, the toy gun that Carlos gives to Jerome represents how fear and racism cause people to misperceive boys of color as dangerous adult men, not as the children they are, and to damage or end the boys’ childhoods as a result. Ghost Boys first mentions the toy gun immediately after Officer Moore shoots 12-year-old Jerome to death. It excerpts from a Chicago Tribute article that quotes Officer Moore as saying he had to shoot Jerome because Jerome was in possession of a gun. The article excerpt, however, fails to mention that Jerome’s “gun” was a toy. This omission subtly suggests that the newspaper is willing to represent Officer Moore’s fear of Jerome as reasonable even though that fear is based on irrational, racist stereotypes about dangerous Black males and leads Officer Moore to fatally shoot an unarmed child.
In flashbacks, Ghost Boys reveals that the toy gun belongs to Carlos, a new boy in Jerome’s class at school. Carlos uses the gun to save himself and Carlos from a beating by Jerome’s seventh-grade bullies, Eddie, Mike, and Snap, who like Officer Moore misperceive the toy as a real firearm. This incident shows that these seventh-grade boys’ childhood is tainted by fear and violence: it’s implied that because the poor school district cannot afford to hire enough staff to adequately supervise all students, no adults have intervened in the regular beatings bullies inflict on Jerome. Further, the bullies themselves are so primed to believe a classmate might shoot them that they are easily fooled by Carlos’s toy. Later that day, Carlos offers to lend Jerome the toy to cement their friendship, and Jerome—in what should be a harmless childhood rebellion—takes it even though his Ma and Pop would disapprove because he wants to have fun and misbehave for once. Officer Moore, responding to a 911 call, shoots Jerome after misperceiving short, skinny Jerome as an adult man and mistaking Jerome’s play with the toy gun as Jerome brandishing a real firearm. Jerome dies for acting like a child, and the police officer who kills him sees him as an adult—two details that emphasize how boys of color often aren’t seen as children or allowed to act like children.
Toy Gun Quotes in Ghost Boys
“Emmett. Just like Emmett Till,” says Grandma. “He was a Chicago boy, too.”
“This isn’t 1955,” says Reverend, calming.
“Tamir Rice, then,” shouts Pop. “2014. He died in Cleveland. Another boy shot just because he’s black.”
“Black lives matter!” someone hollers.
I’m always good. (Teasing Kim doesn’t count.) I say what Grandma wants to hear. Calm her and Ma. Watch out for Kim. Play Minecraft for just an hour. (Okay, sometimes two.) Do my homework. Even act nice when Mr. Myers isn’t asking me (he’s asking the whole class!) to welcome the new kid. Sucker. That’s me. Why can’t I have some fun? Pretend I’m a rebel in Rogue One?
“You’re the Chicago boy? Murdered like me?”
“1955. Down South.”
Everybody knew the South was dangerous then.”
“Still is,” answers Emmett.
“I was in fear for my life,” he says, more forcefully.
If I were alive, my whole body would be trembling. Officer Moore speaks (I think) a truth he believes. When truth’s a feeling, can it be both? Both true and untrue?
“An emergency nine-one-one call, a young man with a realistic-looking gun, a concern for public safety, and an officer’s fear for his life are all facts I’ve considered.
“In the opinion of this court, there is not enough evidence to charge Officer Moore with excessive force, manslaughter, or murder.”
Scornful, Emmett boasts. “Life’s different in Chicago. I talk with white people all the time.”
“No, you don’t,” scolds Simeon.
“I do. I’ll show you.” He heads toward the store.
“Don’t,” says Simeon.
“Think I’m scared?”
Emmett murmurs, “Bear witness.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Everyone needs their story heard. Felt. We honor each other. Connect across time.”
“I was ashamed.”
“Never be. You’re a good son. Everyone gets scared sometimes. It’s how you handle it that matters.”
“Can’t undo wrong. Can only do our best to make things right.”