Balbir Singh Sodhi Tag

To commemorate the four-year anniversary of the murder of Balbir Sodhi, Arizona's East Valley Tribune ran a front page article about his story and our film Divided We Fall. Sikhs Still Living in the Shadow of Sept. 11. Nick Martin On a Saturday in 2001, less than two weeks after the S ept. 11 terrorist attacks, thousands gathered at Phoenix Civic Plaza to honor a man most had never met. (Gaurav Singh, a relative of Balbir Singh Sodhi, kneels by a memorial outside the Mesa Star Convenience store where Sodhi was

Four years ago today, BALBIR SINGH SODHI was murdered in front of his gas station in Mesa, Arizona. His murderer Frank Roque yelled upon arrest, “I am a patriot.” Sodhi (pictured) was the first person of as many as nineteen people killed in the thousands of hate crimes that followed 9/11. This summer, I have traveled across the country to meet with families in targeted communities to find out how much has changed. Although numbers have fallen, there are continued reports of vandalism, beatings, and shootings. Perhaps most

We spent the weekend in Richmond, California, a city known for the highest crime rate in California. While driving, we saw a stop sign with bullet holes (pictured). In June 2003, two SIKH cab drivers, GURPREET SINGH and INDERJIT SINGH, were shot here within three days of each other. The morning after Gurpreet's murder, his fiance in India, devastated by the news, committed suicide. Inderjit Singh was shot in the face and survivied. Nothing was stolen from either cab. Weeks later, another turbaned Sikh cab driver, DAVINDER SINGH,

After a weeklong break in production, we hit the road again. We spent five days in Phoenix, Arizona, to revisit THE SODHI FAMILY whose story set this film in motion nearly four years ago. On September 15, 2001, BALBIR SINGH SODHI (pictured) was standing in front of his gas station, preparing to plant flowers. A man in a black truck pulled around the corner and shot him five times. Balbir, 52 years old, was the first person to be killed in a post-9/11 hate crime. When arrested, the

Once again, I am living out of my suitcase. This happens a lot. Ever since September 11, 2001, my suitcase has been my home. That single event, that single day, has determined every part of my life. What I study. What I do. Who I know myself to be. And where I am. On this particular night, I am in Los Angeles, writing from a production office—a film production office. The place is an organized mess. Two rooms packed with editing equipment, camera gear, computers, stacks of papers