Mickey Kim said it’s been an “extremely difficult” time for the family since his brother was gunned down June 19 by Trepierre Hummons, 21, on the streets on Madisonville. Hummons also died in the shoot-out.
According to various accounts, Hummons, a 2012 Withrow High School graduate with a criminal record, called 911 twice to lure police to the area by saying a man had a gun. That man was him.
Now, Kim’s family and friends said, it’s time to celebrate his life and not debate the way he died.
“Sharing this with you is comforting,” Kim told the funeral service crowd.
He described his brother as “a man about character. Some of you who knew him from his earlier years may have thought I said, ‘He was a character.’ But he was a man about character.”
He said his brother never judged people based on the color of their skin, or their gender. To him, everyone was the same. Equal.
“He looked at the character of the person,” Kim said. “That was a lesson that will be with me forever. Until he married Jessica, I wasn’t even sure he liked Asian people very much.”
That comment drew laughter from the crowd, many of them in uniform already weeping.
He compared his brother to the Incredible Hulk. He was a black belt. When they disagreed, Mickey Kim said he was smart enough to let his brother win.
“There was nothing much as a fight,” he said with a smile. “It probably was one way.”
He said his brother’s hard exterior hid his softer side. Most of his answers were “yes, no and get out of here,” his brother said.
“But there was a day, I still remember when all that changed,” he said. “He was holding Timothy. He held baby Timothy and it was different. He was so proud to be a family man. He doesn’t get to do that anymore. But today, I’m heartbroken but there is hope in my heart again. I will see him in heaven.”
Sonny Kim always wanted to be a police officer, his brother said. Mickey Kim said he dreamed of being an astronaut or a professional baseball player, like all the children in the neighborhood.
Not his brother. Being a police officer was his No. 1 — and only — goal.
“I grew up with a police officer,” Mickey Kim said. “He had that tunnel vision to be a police officer. He was so proud to be part of that fraternity.”
And the fraternity was equally proud to have him as a member, they said.
Cincinnati Police Chief Jeffrey Blackwell said Kim was the model police officer: fit, well trained.
“Sonny was the best of us,” the chief said. “God still called him home. We are heartbroken and we will never ever forget Sonny. Yet we stand tall. Together, unified by purpose, committed to the safety and well being of others, selflessly standing in the gap between good and evil, to serve and protect the citizens of this great city, we have not stood down, nor will we ever. We press on.”
Blackwell said Kim worked in District 2 and residents there knew his name, trusted him, respected him.
He turned at the podium, and addressed Kim’s three sons — Jacob, Joshua and Timothy — who were sitting in the front row, a few feet from their father’s flag-draped casket. He assured them they’ll never be alone.
“You have 1,023 uncles and aunts who will not leave your side,” Blackwell said, referring to the Cincinnati Police Department.
Kim’s parents immigrated from South Korea and moved to Cincinnati in 1974 when Sonny was 8. They lived in the Queen City for four years, then moved to Chicago. He then returned to Cincinnati, and attended high school there.
Buddy Blankenship, a fellow Cincinnati police officer and a groomsman in Kim’s wedding, said Kim, like all Cincinnatians, realized Chicago was a nice place to live but it was “no Cincinnati.”
Blankenship said Kim learned that Cincinnati was the city for him.
“He chose us,” Blankenship said.
They both attended the University of Cincinnati, then entered the police academy together. When they went out at night, in some diverse entertainment venues, Kim’s personality allowed them to blend in with the patrons. He never was out of place, Blankenship said.
While Kim was in college, he rarely visited his parents in Chicago. Or at least he didn’t visit enough to satisfy his mother, Blankenship said.
Then during one of the trips back home, Sonny Kim met a young woman named Jessica. He couldn’t stop talking about her.
“She was for him,” Blankenship said.
Blankenship and three of his buddies were invited to Kim’s wedding in Chicago. Kim warned them that the Asian wedding would be like no other ceremony. His family and friends all stayed within the Korean community.
Blankenship laughed and said he didn’t mind being the tallest person at the ceremony. Kim’s family put them at ease.
“We felt like family,” he said, fighting back tears.
Through a wavering voice, Blankenship also addressed one of Kim’s sons, Timothy.
“I do believe God lets you read Instagram posts in heaven. So keep writing,” he said.
Last week, Timothy left a powerful goodbye message to his father on Instagram.
“To the rest of us,” Blankenship said, “please keep telling those Sonny Kim stories.”
He paused, then added: “Goodbye Sonny.”
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