A Latino Man Died in Police Custody in Tucson—and the Public Didn’t Find Out for Two Months

Bodycam footage showing Carlos Adrian Ingram-Lopez’s last dying moments has the progressive city reeling.

Family members at a vigil for Carlos Adrian Ingram-Lopez in Tucson, ArizonaCaitlin O'Hara/Getty

Fight disinformation: Sign up for the free Mother Jones Daily newsletter and follow the news that matters.

Hundreds of people stood in the summer heat of Tucson, Arizona, on Thursday, candles in hand. Fourteen times, they chanted the phrase “Nana, ayúdame”—Grandma, help me—the last words of a man named Carlos Adrian Ingram-Lopez, who in April died in police custody when officers responding to a domestic call handcuffed and pinned him face-down to the ground for 14 minutes, even as he told them he couldn’t breathe.

Ingram-Lopez died on April 21, but details weren’t made public until the Tucson Police Department held a press conference Wednesday. The secrecy surrounding his last living moments—even city officials didn’t know about Ingram-Lopez’s death until last week—has caused outrage in the southern Arizona city, whose progressive image, some residents believe, is at odds with the way police treat its largely Latinx population.

Shortly after 1 a.m. on April 21, Ingram-Lopez’s grandmother called 911, saying her grandson “was drunk, yelling, and running around the house naked.” At Wednesday’s press conference, Tucson police chief Chris Magnus showed video from an officer’s body camera, telling the crowd before he pressed play, “I will share with you that this is a very difficult video to watch, especially knowing that Mr. Ingram-Lopez dies at the end.”

The footage showed Ingram-Lopez running to the garage naked. “He was acting in a highly erratic manner but soon became more compliant,” Magnus said. He immediately followed an officer’s order to get on the ground and lay on his stomach. Officers quickly pinned him and handcuffed him with his arms behind his back. 

While laying face-down on the ground, Ingram-Lopez said he couldn’t breathe and repeatedly pleaded for water in English and Spanish: “Nana, please, some water, I beg you.” 

Carlos Adrian Ingram-Lopez, courtesy funeral website

Minutes went by. Ingram-Lopez began to scream between gargling or choking noises, but officers continued to keep him pinned on the ground. “You’re gonna get shocked dude,” one officer said, as Ingram-Lopez continued crying out for help. “You’re gonna get zapped.” One of the officers kept his knee on Ingram-Lopez’s back. This continued for a few minutes until Ingram-Lopez seemed to calm down. After a few more minutes, police realized he wasn’t breathing and flipped him on his side. Paramedics would unsuccessfully perform CPR, and Ingram-Lopez died on the floor of his grandmother’s garage. 

The medical examiner said that Ingram-Lopez had a preexisting heart condition and cocaine in his system but added that the cause of death was “undetermined,” Magnus said at the press conference.

The 27-year-old’s cries for his grandmother in the video quickly spread on social media under the hashtag #NanaAyudame. Some posted about the need for alternatives to police when family members are having a mental health crisis. Others tallied the number of times Ingram-Lopez cried for his grandmother and the times he said “I’m sorry” and “I need water” before his death.

His case is the latest instance of police killing a person of color in custody. The Tucson chapter of Black Lives Matter—which had helped organize some protests in the city following the death of George Floyd—said in a statement that it stood “in solidarity with the Latinx community that is mourning the murder of one of its own.” 

Over the last few weeks, at least three Latinos have been killed by police in California alone: Andres Guardado, Erik Salgado, and Sean Monterrosa. The calls for reform and for defunding the police continue to grow, even if, nationwide, protests are shrinking in size. On Twitter, the Latinx organization UnidosUS said of Ingram-Lopez’s death, “This epidemic of racialized violence must stop, and it must stop now.” 

At Wednesday’s press conference, Magnus added that an internal police investigation concluded that the three officers involved in Ingram-Lopez’s death—Samuel Routledge, Ryan Starbuck, and Jonathan Jackson—committed “multiple policy violations,” but that they did not use a chokehold or place their knees on Ingram-Lopez’s neck. Investigators determined that the officers at the scene “showed complete disregard for the training provided…but most importantly an apparent indifference or inability to recognize an individual in medical distress and take appropriate action to mitigate the distress.” On June 18, the three officers involved submitted their resignations, a day before the investigation concluded; Magnus said the department “would’ve terminated them” if they hadn’t resigned. (The Tucson Police Department did not put out a press release reporting the “in-custody death” on April 21.)

“It is simply not acceptable that mayor and council and the public were not notified of this event after the incident took place,” Tucson Mayor Regina Romero told reporters Wednesday.

Magnus offered his resignation after playing the video at the press conference Wednesday. But Tucson’s city manager, Michael Ortega, rejected his resignation on Thursday. According to the Arizona Daily Star, Ortega and Romero, the mayor, expressed support for Magnus, saying he has brought “forward-thinking” changes to the police department and is “exactly what we need in these difficult times.” Magnus took over as police chief in 2016 as the first openly gay man to lead the department. 

Thursday’s vigil was held at El Tiradito, a centuries-old local shrine that has long served as a gathering place for Tucsonans to mourn and protest. People often leave notes with wishes and tuck them in the holes of El Tiradito’s adobe walls. That night, Ingram-Lopez’s family demanded that the police department be held accountable, and urged those at the ceremony to not “forget him and help us fight.”

WE'LL BE BLUNT.

We have a considerable $390,000 gap in our online fundraising budget that we have to close by June 30. There is no wiggle room, we've already cut everything we can, and we urgently need more readers to pitch in—especially from this specific blurb you're reading right now.

We'll also be quite transparent and level-headed with you about this.

In "News Never Pays," our fearless CEO, Monika Bauerlein, connects the dots on several concerning media trends that, taken together, expose the fallacy behind the tragic state of journalism right now: That the marketplace will take care of providing the free and independent press citizens in a democracy need, and the Next New Thing to invest millions in will fix the problem. Bottom line: Journalism that serves the people needs the support of the people. That's the Next New Thing.

And it's what MoJo and our community of readers have been doing for 47 years now.

But staying afloat is harder than ever.

In "This Is Not a Crisis. It's The New Normal," we explain, as matter-of-factly as we can, what exactly our finances look like, why this moment is particularly urgent, and how we can best communicate that without screaming OMG PLEASE HELP over and over. We also touch on our history and how our nonprofit model makes Mother Jones different than most of the news out there: Letting us go deep, focus on underreported beats, and bring unique perspectives to the day's news.

You're here for reporting like that, not fundraising, but one cannot exist without the other, and it's vitally important that we hit our intimidating $390,000 number in online donations by June 30.

And we hope you might consider pitching in before moving on to whatever it is you're about to do next. It's going to be a nail-biter, and we really need to see donations from this specific ask coming in strong if we're going to get there.

payment methods

WE'LL BE BLUNT.

We have a considerable $390,000 gap in our online fundraising budget that we have to close by June 30. There is no wiggle room, we've already cut everything we can, and we urgently need more readers to pitch in—especially from this specific blurb you're reading right now.

We'll also be quite transparent and level-headed with you about this.

In "News Never Pays," our fearless CEO, Monika Bauerlein, connects the dots on several concerning media trends that, taken together, expose the fallacy behind the tragic state of journalism right now: That the marketplace will take care of providing the free and independent press citizens in a democracy need, and the Next New Thing to invest millions in will fix the problem. Bottom line: Journalism that serves the people needs the support of the people. That's the Next New Thing.

And it's what MoJo and our community of readers have been doing for 47 years now.

But staying afloat is harder than ever.

In "This Is Not a Crisis. It's The New Normal," we explain, as matter-of-factly as we can, what exactly our finances look like, why this moment is particularly urgent, and how we can best communicate that without screaming OMG PLEASE HELP over and over. We also touch on our history and how our nonprofit model makes Mother Jones different than most of the news out there: Letting us go deep, focus on underreported beats, and bring unique perspectives to the day's news.

You're here for reporting like that, not fundraising, but one cannot exist without the other, and it's vitally important that we hit our intimidating $390,000 number in online donations by June 30.

And we hope you might consider pitching in before moving on to whatever it is you're about to do next. It's going to be a nail-biter, and we really need to see donations from this specific ask coming in strong if we're going to get there.

payment methods

We Recommend

Latest

Sign up for our free newsletter

Subscribe to the Mother Jones Daily to have our top stories delivered directly to your inbox.

Get our award-winning magazine

Save big on a full year of investigations, ideas, and insights.

Subscribe

Support our journalism

Help Mother Jones' reporters dig deep with a tax-deductible donation.

Donate