OAKLAND, Calif. — Last week, Oakland's newly elected mayor, Barbara Lee, found herself thrust into a moment of raw communal sorrow, consoling the friends and family of John Beam, a revered community college football coach who was shot on campus in broad daylight. The 66-year-old Beam, a fixture in Oakland's sports and youth development scene for over four decades, succumbed to his injuries the following day, leaving a void in the city's tight-knit athletic community and amplifying the urgent national conversation on urban violence.
The shooting occurred around noon on Thursday, November 13, 2025, at the Laney College athletic field. Beam, who had transitioned from head football coach to athletic director at the Peralta Community College District school the previous year, was struck in the head by gunfire. Oakland Police described the incident as a targeted attack. The suspect, 27-year-old Cedric Irving Jr., a former high school football player known to frequent the campus despite having no official affiliation, was arrested the next morning. He faces murder and weapons charges, with his public defender citing mental health issues.
Beam’s death sent shockwaves through Oakland. Featured in the final season of Netflix’s docuseries Last Chance U in 2020, he was known not only for leading Laney College to multiple championships but for mentoring thousands of young men, many from difficult backgrounds, with a rare blend of toughness and compassion. More than 20 of his players went on to the NFL. At a hospital vigil the night of the shooting, hundreds gathered, holding signs and sharing stories of how Coach Beam had changed their lives. “He gave people what they don’t really get,” one former player said.The day after visiting Beam’s grieving family, Lee sat for a one-hour interview with The Associated Press in her downtown Oakland office. At 79, the longtime Democratic leader—who represented the East Bay in Congress from 1998 until early 2025—has been mayor for only six months, taking office in May after a special election following the recall of her predecessor, Sheng Thao. No longer advocating from Washington, D.C., she now lives the daily reality of Oakland’s vibrant culture and its toughest streets.
“I was a cheerleader in high school, so I’m sort of a cheerleader for Oakland,” she said with a smile, invoking her deep roots in a city that became a postwar magnet for Black families fleeing Jim Crow and later the birthplace of the Black Panther Party.
As the interview neared its end, Lee received the news she had dreaded: Coach Beam had died. Her face fell. The normally composed leader struggled for words. “Heartbroken,” she finally whispered.
Oakland’s long struggle with violent crime remains a defining challenge. Between 1996 and 2020, the city’s homicide rate ranged from 16.2 to 36.4 per 100,000 residents—three to seven times the national average of around 5. A post-pandemic spike peaked in 2023, but 2024 brought significant relief: murders dropped 32 percent to 81, and overall violent crime fell 19 percent. Shootings were down 33 percent. Preliminary 2025 numbers show the decline continuing, with violent crime down another 28 percent in the first half of the year compared to 2024.
Lee credits much of the progress to the city’s Department of Violence Prevention, created in 2017. The department employs “violence interrupters”—credible messengers with lived experience of incarceration or gun violence—who mediate conflicts, coach at-risk youth, and connect people to jobs, mental health services, and housing support. An independent evaluation by the Urban Institute found the program has reduced trauma and improved outcomes in Oakland high schools.
Still, perception often lags behind statistics. Many residents, like lifelong East Oakland resident Wil Ash, remain cautious: “Only God knows if she can really turn the page. We pray that she does.” Tinisch Hollins, executive director of Californians for Safety and Justice, notes that “less crime is good news, but it also matters whether people feel the change.”
The city’s challenges are now compounded by tensions with the Trump administration. In August 2025, President Trump described Oakland and Baltimore as “so far gone… we don’t even mention them anymore” while announcing federal interventions in several high-crime cities, many led by Black mayors. Though Trump ultimately called off a planned federal “surge” in the Bay Area after speaking with San Francisco’s mayor and tech leaders, Oakland officials spent weeks preparing for the possibility of federal agents or National Guard troops being deployed to their streets.
Lee, who spent decades opposing Trump in Congress, sees racial and political motives in the threats. “We’re not letting Donald Trump divide and conquer Black and brown and white people from each other,” she said. “Nobody in Oakland knows Donald Trump and his playbook better than Barbara Lee.” She vowed peaceful resistance to any federal occupation, warning that violence would only “play right into Trump’s hand.”
Asked if she would welcome the president to tour Oakland’s vibrant neighborhoods and see the city’s strengths firsthand, Lee was unequivocal: “No, thank you.” Instead, she urged the administration to prioritize health care, housing, economic development, jobs, violence prevention, and getting guns off America’s streets.
As Oakland mourns Coach Beam and continues its fragile progress on public safety, Mayor Lee finds herself balancing grief, hope, and defiance. Surrounded in her office by photos of Black Panther-era protests and modern community murals, she remains, in her own words, Oakland’s cheerleader—determined to prove that the city’s best days are still ahead.
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