Nury Martinez, you, are living proof that these must be the last days.

I don’t know why you felt the need to disparage a defenseless little eight-year-old Black boy who hadn’t been disrespectful to you, or probably even “winked” at you while he was minding his business doing what little boys do.

Run. Play. Create Mayhem.

Most people find that normal and not worthy of a beat down “around the corner.”

But not you.

You, however, just got the ultimate beat down. You lost your seat on the LA City Council. Your rep has been tarnished and even President Biden has called for you and the other councilmen on the call that day to resign. 

Something tells me you didn’t want to ever be this famous. But your comments about your white colleague Mike Bonin and his Black son were so inflammatory that you trumped Trump.

Mad props girlfriend. It takes a real bad ass to do that in prime time.

I can only imagine, however, that your distasteful comments about Bonin’s son were prompted by one or more traumatic experiences involving people with a little more pigment in their skins. I’m thinking that maybe some Black dude cut you off in traffic that day. Or you disagreed with something Don Lemon said on CNN. Maybe you hate that LeBron got injured last season and the Lakers failed to make the playoffs. Perhaps you’re offended that Oprah has so much money or that the city you call home may have a new Black female mayor.

Yep, your new boss lady could have an Afro.

Since none of that makes much sense, maybe you’re just the kind of sick, twisted racist that makes me believe — and sometimes hope — that there soon will be a second coming.

Somebody’s got to save us.

If you are so bothered by an active little Black boy with a white daddy, there’s little hope for humanity because I’m sure there are more like you. Maybe that will be your saving grace — knowing that you’re not alone, Karen.

That, however, is a different column.

Your weepy apology after it took you nearly 48 hours to resign your seat was wasted on the masses because last year during that phone call with your colleagues, you revealed that there’s an empty space in your chest cavity where your heart should be. That kind of makes me wonder why you’re so broken-hearted now.

You have to have a heart in order for it to break.

It also occurs to me, and perhaps the more enlightened among us, that you might be missing a few key brain cells because anyone with a fulling functioning mind would know that politicians have no real friends.

Your voice mails, your texts and emails will always come back to haunt you. That’s why most of your colleagues don’t wait for Halloween to hide behind a mask. They wear them every day. 

But you and everyone who was on that call with you have been unmasked. Their silence speaks volumes about who they are. We need them out, too. Perhaps none of you realized it but you got caught up in own distorted view of entitlement on tape.

So, the next time you want to call a young Black kid a “monkey,” maybe you’ll have the good sense to do background checks on your amigos. 

All skin folk ain’t kinfolk. Maybe one of them heard you talking about their kid. Or maybe they just don’t like women who have the courage of their convictions.

You’ve got a lot to think about.

You were in a position to truly help your people and mine. It’s unlikely, however, that you realize how much you have contributed to widening the divide. The allyship between Black and Brown Angelinos was growing. But once you indicated that only white kids are entitled to do what children do, a lot of doors were being slammed from View Park to East LA.

I bet sales for that 40 oz bottle of hatorade were at an all-time high on Monday.

Yep you got that bill passed.


​Your next motion should involve free heart transplants for former ostracized city officials. Do it quickly. Our days may be numbered.

Miki Turner is an Award-winning veteran journalist, who is now an associate professor a professional practice at the USC Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism.