Arsema Barekew was never afraid to speak up.
If one of the 12-year-old's classmates was upset or crying, Arsema was usually first to rush forward and offer comfort. And if one of her Washington Middle School teachers said something that didn't make sense, the sixth-grader was quick to ask for help.
Arsema's parents last spoke to their younger daughter the morning of March 6, hours before she was fatally struck by a car rolling down onto a sidewalk outside school during recess. But knowing their daughter's voice and strong sense of justice, the couple said it's clear what she would ask for, if she had the chance.
"All she would have wanted is the same thing as me," her father, Berihun Mekonnen, said through a translator. Mekonnen, 39, spoke in the Ethiopian language of Amharic as he pinched the front of his black hoodie between his fingers. "The truth."
Seattle Police Department and Seattle Public Schools officials have told Arsema's parents few details about what led up to their daughter's death, the couple said. The little those agencies have shared has created more questions — and pain — than answers for the family and their tight-knit Yesler Terrace neighborhood community.
Investigators said a 51-year-old woman failed to place her GMC Acadia in park and got out of the SUV, which rolled about 75 yards downhill and struck Arsema shortly before 12:30 p.m. Police have not publicly identified and did not arrest the woman, who two drug recognition experts determined was not impaired.
On Wednesday, the family and their attorney, Daniel Ajema, accused investigators of prematurely dismissing the crash as an accident, allowing the district, school staff and the driver to dodge accountability.
"The way (Seattle police) approached them, explained things, was like, 'Move on. This is an accident. Accidents happen,'" said Ajema. "But for me, there's criminal negligence. There's recklessness."
On their sixth day of Hazan (sometimes spelled Hazen), a traditional mourning period in Ethiopia that takes place before a body is buried, Mekonnen and his wife, 37-year-old Tigist Yitna, sat in the lobby of their apartment complex, plagued by questions.
Who allowed their daughter and other students to walk outside, rather than exit from a rear door of the building facing the playground? How could the woman's car travel 75 yards downhill when the street outside the school is fairly flat? And why, Arsema's parents asked, did police not arrest the driver if her behavior led to a child's death?
The family said their desperation for answers has only intensified with time.
While Seattle police and school district officials held a news conference in English outside the school last Thursday, Mekonnen and Yitna said they were not told how their daughter died until two days later, when a detective visited them for the first and only time on Saturday morning. The detective referred to the crash as "an accident," and said the family could not review surveillance footage because Arsema's death was still under investigation, Ajema said.
The Seattle Police Department did not respond to questions about the parents' comments on Thursday.
Officials from Washington Middle School and Seattle Public Schools did not contact the family until almost a week after the crash. Superintendent Brent Jones and several staff members visited the family at their apartment complex Wednesday morning and apologized for their "poor communication," the attorney said.
Police Department spokesperson Detective Brian Pritchard said he understood why Mekonnen and Yitna are frustrated. Police are limited in what they can share with the family or the public because of their active investigation. Detectives are "working as hard as they can," he said.
"This is something they want to make sure they get right," Pritchard said. "We want to make sure (the family feels) comfortable with the investigation that's going on, and that they know detectives are doing the best that they can do."
In a statement Friday night, Seattle Public Schools Chief of Staff Bev Redmond said district officials met with the family and "recognize they have many questions about how this devastating accident happened."
"The depth of their grief is unfathomable," Redmond's statement said. "We are committed to assisting the family in finding the clarity they need, and we will continue to offer support however we can."
March 6 started like any other school day for Mekonnen, Yitna and their two daughters, Arsema and 13-year-old Saron, an eighth grader at Washington Middle School.
Over breakfast and coffee, the family chatted excitedly about an upcoming trip this summer back to Ethiopia, the nation they left in 2019 to pursue better schooling and opportunities. There were only 98 days left until their voyage, Arsema counted cheerfully.
The sixth-grader seemed particularly excited for school that day, her parents said, the novelty of being in middle school still fresh. As usual, she packed in her bag the toy slime she liked to play with and pretended to begrudgingly accept a goodbye kiss from her mother. Their father drove the two girls to school and dropped them off, as he did every weekday.
The sisters ate lunch together that day in the school building, as they always did. When Arsema finished first, Saron waved her outside to recess, saying she would join her outside soon, their parents said.
At about 12:30 p.m., Mekonnen got a phone call from an unknown number while driving for Lyft in North Seattle. Saron had borrowed a friend's phone to tell him that their school had told students and teachers to shelter in place. He called his wife, and they both rushed to the school, arriving around 1 p.m.
The couple said they stood anxiously in front of the school with other parents for about 30 minutes as police vehicles flooded the neighborhood. Mekonnen called Saron back, who said she had heard a student had been killed by a car outside the school. She told her father she was worried about Arsema, who had gone outside to play.
Shortly before 2 p.m., a police officer called out Mekonnen's name. An officer escorted the couple inside the school and into a classroom, where they said they found Saron sitting down near an adult.
"I'm sorry," a police officer told the family in English. Before he could continue, Yitna began to scream, and an adult rushed Saron out of the room.
Mekonnen and Yitna said they sat in the classroom for two hours with police officers, who told them their daughter had died but revealed almost no other details. Neither the school nor police provided an interpreter for the family, the couple said.
A police officer drove them back to their Yesler Terrace apartment complex that Thursday afternoon. The couple entered the lobby and sat on a couch in the room's back corner. They have stayed there every day since, leaving sometimes as late as midnight only to sleep before returning.
Members from their neighborhood, Ethiopian, school and church communities have kept the family company at almost every moment, sharing in their grief and memories of Arsema. Their official mourning period will not end until the 12-year-old's funeral in Seattle on Sunday morning. To pay for the funeral and the family's other expenses, Washington Middle School's association for parents, teachers and students organized a GoFundMe fundraiser that had raised nearly $48,000 by Thursday night.
Among the family's visitors was Delish Lemma, owner of Delish Ethiopian Cuisine, who sat beside them on Wednesday during the couple's interview with The Seattle Times. He recounted driving to Washington Middle School last Friday to see if the school was open and seeing dozens of students gathered outside by the sidewalk where Arsema was struck. The family's interpreter played a TikTok video of the walkout, showing a crowd of children yelling, "Justice for Arsema."
Yitna closed her eyes and covered her ears, gently rocking herself, as the video's sound filled the lobby.
"There has been a lot of talk with our community, (asking) do we feel comfortable sending the kids to that school now?" said Lemma. "No."
A memorial for Arsema bloomed on a table feet away from the family and their visitors in the lobby. The collection of colorful tributes has grown every day since last Thursday's crash. A bag overflowing with handwritten letters from her classmates rested next to stuffed animals, flowers, candles and friendship bracelets spelling "Arsema."
Their daughter's sweetness, humor and humility were what Mekonnen and Yitna remembered first about her on Wednesday. She radiated kindness, making her a natural leader and a good friend, they said. She liked to play practical jokes, and playfully called her mother pet names like "my honey" and "my sweetheart," something Ethiopian mothers typically do for their children, Yitna said.
The 12-year-old liked to turn on music and dance with her mother for exercise. On her own, she enjoyed drawing and gaming, and hoped to study computer science one day. She was funny, and quick to smile.
Two photos of Arsema taped to poster board on the table showed the sixth grader beaming at the camera, her brown eyes twinkling.
At the base of the poster board perched a card with a colorful, glittering message: "Let your smile change the world."
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