Body camera footage released Monday shows a St. Louis police officer shooting 17-year-old Emeshyon Wilkins in the back of the head as the teen ran away, directly contradicting an earlier police statement that Wilkins had pointed a gun at officers. The video, obtained through discovery in a federal lawsuit, has forced the department to admit its initial public account of the June 2024 shooting was wrong.

The St. Louis Police Department now acknowledges that "information provided by a third-party to investigators in the immediate aftermath of the incident was not consistent with the actual events or what was initially shared with the community." That bureaucratic phrasing amounts to a concession: what the public was told about how Emeshyon Wilkins died was false.

The question now is whether anyone will be held accountable, for the shooting itself, and for the misleading narrative that followed it. More than a year later, neither has produced a criminal charge.

What the bodycam video shows

The shooting took place on June 18, 2024, just two weeks after Wilkins turned 17. Detectives attempted to stop an SUV reported stolen. A brief pursuit followed. Family attorney Al Watkins told The Associated Press the chase was slow-speed, with the SUV traveling only about 10 miles per hour.

When the vehicle stopped, Wilkins fled on foot. Two officers gave chase, one holding a Taser, the other a firearm. The federal lawsuit filed against the police department states that an officer yelled commands and then fired. One of four bullets struck Wilkins in the back of the head, killing him.

The video did not show Wilkins holding a firearm in his hand or pointing it at the officer. A gun was found in his pocket, but the lawsuit states it was disassembled, in multiple pieces, and incapable of being fired.

That last detail matters. The original police account said the teen pointed a gun at officers. The bodycam footage shows something very different: a teenager running away, shot from behind.

A year of resistance before the video surfaced

The footage did not come to light through any act of police transparency. Watkins, who represents the Wilkins family, said his office first sought the video through a records request and was refused. He obtained it only through the discovery process in the federal lawsuit, a fight he says the department dragged out for more than a year.

Watkins did not mince words about the department's posture. He told The Associated Press:

"They fought that video issue for over a year. We had to file a federal lawsuit to get it. That's not transparent. That's not integrity. Indeed, it's irresponsible."

That timeline deserves scrutiny. If the department had reviewed its own body camera footage promptly after the shooting, the false narrative about Wilkins pointing a gun could have been corrected within days. Instead, the public was left with a misleading account for more than twelve months. The department itself now admits that "an earlier review of body-worn camera footage would have provided greater clarity than what was available in the initial moments following the incident."

In other words, the department had the means to correct the record and did not use them. In cases involving bodycam evidence in fatal shootings, the footage often becomes the single most important piece of the public record. Withholding it, or failing to review it, erodes the trust that police departments depend on.

The department's response

St. Louis Police Department spokesperson Mitch McCoy issued a statement after the video's release. He said the department has updated its internal protocols since the shooting to improve the accuracy and timeliness of information released to the public. A member of the department's body-worn camera unit now "responds directly" to shooting scenes so that investigating commanders can review footage before receiving detailed accounts from the public.

McCoy also offered a broader statement on the use of force:

"We recognize that the use of deadly force is difficult for everyone involved and for the community. We are committed to being as transparent as possible, even in dynamic and rapidly evolving situations."

The word "transparent" rings hollow when the department resisted turning over the very footage that exposed its earlier account as false. Protocol changes are fine. But protocol changes after a year of stonewalling do not undo the damage.

The officer who fired the fatal shots has not been publicly identified. Watkins said the officer was placed on desk duty with pay. Whether the officer remains in that status is unclear.

Circuit attorney's office offers no timeline

The St. Louis Circuit Attorney's Office said it received the police investigative report in October. It stated that it conducts its own "review of the evidence and law to determine whether there is a basis for criminal liability." The office added that it is "committed to reviewing each matter as expeditiously as possible while ensuring that all available evidence and legal considerations are carefully and thoroughly evaluated."

No timeline for a charging decision has been provided. No indication of where the review stands has been made public. The family is left waiting, and Watkins has said plainly that "time is of the essence" and "the lives of our children are at stake."

This kind of institutional delay is not unique to St. Louis. Across the country, fatal police-involved shootings routinely produce long investigative timelines. But delay without communication breeds suspicion, and suspicion is corrosive, both to public trust in police and to the officers who serve honorably.

A mother still waiting for answers

Shaina Wilkins, Emeshyon's mother, told CBS affiliate KMOV that authorities still have not provided a full explanation of what happened to her son.

"I'm still waiting, I need answers."

She said her son "should still be here." The shooting happened when he was 17. He had turned 17 just two weeks before.

Watkins framed the stakes in broad terms, telling The Associated Press that residents of St. Louis and Missouri "deserve better than this." He added: "The nation is watching. Indeed, the world is looking at St. Louis. It is a vulnerable time in the U.S., one which requires adults in the room to act responsibly and without delay or gamesmanship."

The comparison to Ferguson is unavoidable. St. Louis still carries the weight of the 2014 shooting of 18-year-old Michael Brown by a white police officer in the nearby suburb. That case reshaped national debates about policing, use of force, and accountability. The Wilkins case lands in a city that knows what unresolved police shootings can cost.

What accountability demands

Conservatives who believe in law and order should be the first to demand that law and order apply to everyone who wears a badge. The vast majority of police officers serve with honor and restraint. That is precisely why cases like this one, where the official account collapses under the weight of the department's own footage, must be handled with speed and transparency.

A teenager was shot in the back of the head while running. The gun in his pocket was in pieces and could not fire. The department told the public he had pointed a weapon at officers. The video shows otherwise. And for more than a year, the department fought to keep that video out of public view. When public officials, whether elected leaders facing felony charges or police departments resisting disclosure, evade accountability, the system weakens for everyone.

Watkins put it simply: "The family needs answers, and the only way answers can be given is if there is justice that is open and transparent." He also noted that the video showed "no threat to the public" and "no furtive movements" by Wilkins.

None of this means the officer acted with malice. That is for investigators and, if warranted, a jury to determine. But the gap between what the department initially told the public and what its own camera recorded is not a minor discrepancy. It is a credibility collapse. And credibility, once lost, is not restored by press releases.

The facts here are not complicated. A department's bodycam captured a shooting. The department's public account of that shooting was wrong. The department resisted releasing the footage. The circuit attorney's office has offered no timeline for a decision. And a family is still waiting for answers about why their 17-year-old son was shot in the back of the head.

Cases like this test whether institutions meant to protect the public can also hold themselves to account. Across the country, from manslaughter charges against security staffers to officer-involved shootings that drag on without resolution, the pattern is the same: delay, deflection, and a public left to wonder whether the rules apply equally.

If the system works, it should be able to say so, with evidence, on the record, and without a federal lawsuit to pry the truth loose.