Former Minneapolis Police Chief Medaria Arradondo vividly remembers the midnight call from a community activist that would forever change his career and his city. The caller urged him to watch a video spreading rapidly across social media—footage showing one of his officers, Derek Chauvin, pinning George Floyd to the ground with a knee on his neck despite Floyd's fading pleas of "I can't breathe."
"It was absolutely gut-wrenching," Arradondo, 58, recalled in a recent interview ahead of the fifth anniversary of Floyd's murder. "What I saw conflicted completely with what my own officers had initially reported about the encounter."
Arradondo, who in 2017 became Minneapolis's first Black police chief, knew immediately that the May 25, 2020, incident would have profound implications for his department and the city. Within 24 hours, he made the unprecedented decision to fire all four officers involved—a move that broke sharply with the typically slow-moving disciplinary process in police departments nationwide.
"I would have pushed harder and sooner at trying to dismantle some of the toxic culture that allowed that indifference to exist that evening," he said, reflecting on his 32-year career with the department. "There's no doubt May 25th, 2020, is a defining moment for me in my public service career."
The decision to terminate the officers came after an emotional meeting with his command staff the day after Floyd's death. "I don't want to surround myself with 'yes people,'" he told investigators later, "but they all unequivocally agreed that was the right decision."
Arradondo also took the extraordinary step of testifying against Chauvin during his murder trial in 2021—breaking the so-called "blue wall of silence" that traditionally protects officers from accountability for misconduct.
"Once Mr. Floyd had stopped resisting, and certainly once he was in distress and trying to verbalize that, that should have stopped," he testified. The actions he witnessed on the video were "in no way, shape or form" in line with department policy or training.
Before making his decision public, Arradondo consulted with community leaders, including civil rights pioneers and faith leaders. He also contacted the FBI to request an external investigation—another unusual move reflecting the gravity of what he had witnessed.
Now retired from the department since 2022, Arradondo has published a book titled "Chief Rondo: Securing Justice for the Murder of George Floyd," exploring leadership, justice, and race. In it, he addresses a letter to Floyd's daughter, Gianna.
"I never had an opportunity to meet Gianna, but I wanted her to know that, even though I was not out there that evening at that intersection when her father was pleading for help, that I heard him, and I was going to do everything I could to bring him justice," Arradondo said.
Looking back on Lake Street—the major artery that saw some of the worst destruction during the unrest that followed Floyd's death—Arradondo noted it still bears "remnants of the pain and anger of what occurred five years ago." Buildings remain boarded up, and empty lots mark where businesses never returned.
He stands by his controversial decision to abandon the Third Precinct police station and let protesters burn it, explaining: "During the most significant crisis we've ever experienced, arguably in the state, when it's life or death, I've got to go on the side of keeping people alive and safe."
Arradondo believes police departments nationwide have made progress on accountability in the years since Floyd's death, albeit incremental progress. But his words to Floyd's daughter perhaps best capture his personal reckoning with the tragedy—the words Floyd never heard from the officers involved: "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for your father being taken from you."
