[Capital B] Delrawn Small’s Family Still Seeks Accountability 9 Years After NYPD Killing

Officer Wayne Isaacs was acquitted on murder and manslaughter charges in 2016.

by Christina Carrega

BROOKLYN, New York — In a neighborhood just miles from where his father was shot and killed by an off-duty police officer nine years ago, Zaiden Small sat on a couch, kicking and dangling his feet as he listened to stories about a man he never knew.

He was a protector, a provider, and a man who had turned his life around.

“I wish he would be right here. He’d just teleport right here,” the fourth grader said with an innocent grin as the room filled with laughter. 

On the night of the fatal shooting, Zaiden was just 4 months old, strapped into a car seat two lanes away.

Saying Delrawn Small’s name in front of his three children is sometimes met with smiles as they share memories of the 37-year-old. Frustration then sets in about how the homicide case has dragged on for too long. Then a somber pause — but someone eventually breaks the silence with laughter.

Two days after a long-promised New York Police Departmental trial was delayed again, the family still gathered in a rented space 3 miles away from the East New York shooting a week before this past Thanksgiving. Some traveled from as far as Georgia, while others commuted from upstate New York or the city’s neighboring boroughs to ensure no one forgets Small’s story. 

In the early hours of July 4, 2016, off-duty NYPD officer Wayne Isaacs shot and killed Small as he approached Isaacs’ car. The two men stopped at a red light after witnesses said Isaacs was driving erratically. Isaacs testified in his own defense at the November 2017 trial that he shot Small after he was punched in the face. Footage reviewed by prosecutors and investigators did not corroborate that claim.

Despite Isaacs’ unfounded testimony to jurors, the criminal prosecution resulted in an acquittal on charges of second-degree murder and first-degree manslaughter, a lawsuit settled, and an unfulfilled promise of a departmental trial. Isaacs is still employed by the NYPD, and Small’s family said their loss has been pushed to the margins of the police reform debate. 

“For the last nine years, something significant has happened with this case around the holidays,” Small’s brother, Victor Dempsey, told Capital B. “Every year. We can go the whole year with normalcy and then the holidays, something drastic happens to remind you of it again.”

The departmental trial for Isaacs was scheduled for this past November, but has been stalled indefinitely. Small’s killing not only became an early test of New York state’s efforts to prosecute civilian deaths involving law enforcement, but a test of a family’s resolve. 

“This is the last road,” said Dempsey, a community organizer with the NAACP Legal Defense Fund who has turned his grief into purpose. He was set to open a restaurant that was put on hold following his big brother’s death. Despite the frustration, Dempsey and other family members are still hopeful that they’re in the final round of a nearly decadelong fight for accountability.

A year before Small was killed in 2016, then-Gov. Andrew Cuomo signed an executive order giving the state attorney general authority to investigate and press charges against officers accused of killing an individual found not to be armed with a weapon. The move followed ongoing criticism that local prosecutors were too closely aligned with police to hold officers accountable through their own investigation or grand jury proceedings — a legally secretive process — particularly after the 2014 death of Eric Garner at the hands of an NYPD officer in Staten Island. 

The delay of the departmental trial for Isaacs followed a recommendation by an NYPD administrative judge to the NYPD’s commissioner, Jessica Tisch, to dismiss the disciplinary charges against Isaacs, concluding he acted as a private citizen in the killing of Small. That conclusion conflicts with the city’s 2021 decision to settle a wrongful-death lawsuit with Zaquanna Albert, Small’s girlfriend, even after Isaacs was acquitted in criminal court, the family, advocates, and local elected officials said. The $125,000 settlement was far lower than comparable police‑involved wrongful-death settlements that year.

The encounter was initially described by law enforcement as a road‑rage incident. It occurred at a stoplight between two Black men — one’s death left his family having to rely on one another for support without victim compensation funds, the other having law enforcement and taxpayer-funded resources for his defense. 

Since 2016, seven NYPD commissioners haven’t made a decision on Isaacs’ future employment with the department. In 2020, the department’s Civilian Complaint Review Board, an independent agency tasked with investigating complaints of misconduct made against NYPD employees, recommended firing Isaacs.

Tisch was appointed in November 2024. She will remain in the role under new Mayor Zohran Mamdani, and she will retain the authority to decide whether Isaacs’ departmental trial will proceed. 

Capital B reached out to the NYPD for comment. A spokesperson said the “disciplinary process remains ongoing.”

Isaacs, 47, earned more than $155,000 in 2025, which is a drop from his previous year’s earnings of $218,327, according to online records. Weeks prior to shooting Small, Isaacs was accused of using excessive force against a 27-year-old woman for a traffic violation. The June 27, 2016, incident was closed months later when the motorist allegedly did not cooperate with the CCRB’s investigation, according to online police misconduct records. 

“He was stolen from us”

All Zaiden knows of his dad are photographs, videos, and stories of his protection — lessons he wishes he could learn firsthand, like how to drive when he’s old enough. Small provided structure within his immediate family that they didn’t appreciate until he was gone. 

“I got to experience him as a father more than my brother did,” said his now 23-year-old stepdaughter, who asked not to be named. “I wish I could get a father-figure for my brother.”

Belly laughs over stories from the moments leading up to the day that changed their lives forever brought tears to some eyes. Loved ones wove in accounts of the challenges they have faced with law enforcement, the public, and themselves ever since. 

The laughter eventually gave way to grief, as Dempsey reminded them how much Small disliked driving — especially on a holiday marked by heightened concerns about impaired drivers.

As fireworks lit the sky on July 4, 2016, Small was driving Albert’s sister’s car to bring Albert and her then-14-year-old daughter home, with newborn Zaiden strapped into a car seat in the back.

Coming from Queens, Small drove along Atlantic Avenue. Isaacs was allegedly seen weaving his car between the three lanes of traffic. The two men later stopped at the same red light at Bradford Street.

When Small stepped out of his car and approached Isaacs’ vehicle, three shots rang out, according to trial testimony. 

Isaacs was off duty when the shooting occurred. Even if he had been on duty, there wouldn’t be any police body camera footage because the NYPD didn’t complete the rollout of the devices until April 2017. 

As a result, investigators relied solely on eyewitness statements, footage from nearby businesses and street cameras to reconstruct the events. Those eyewitnesses were among Small’s closest loved ones, who said they were questioned by investigators while planning his funeral and remain traumatized by the shooting.

His then-teenage stepdaughter sat in the backseat and called 911, unaware the bullets came from an officer heading home after a shift at the 79th Precinct in Bedford-Stuyvesant.

“When he was stolen from us, it was in a moment where he was identifying his path in life and making some adjustments for himself,” Dempsey, 39, told Capital B as Small’s toddler grandson sat nearby. 

Dempsey giggled at the memory of Small’s enjoyment in his Manhattan janitorial job and his eagerness to learn in school, embracing higher education after a late start in life.

Shondell Small, 24, remembers her father as “one of a kind” — someone she wishes her son had known.

“We didn’t want that … failure”

As phone technology advanced over the past decade, everyday people gained the ability to record alleged misconduct in their communities — bringing visual proof to stories of police brutality that people of color had reported for decades but were often not believed, even when backed by statistics. The footage fueled public outrage and, in response, pushed some law enforcement agencies to adopt body camera policies aimed at increasing transparency and accountability following protests, criminal investigations, and lawsuits.

In the case of Small’s death, his family said his case isn’t recognized like other higher-profile cases. Their tragedy, they said, has been overshadowed by bystander-recorded videos of on-duty police brutality that have made national news headlines. 

Small’s name rarely appears in lists about victims of police brutality. 

“I just felt like he didn’t get the recognition that he deserved, or even the family deserves,” Albert told Capital B. 

The 45-year-old mom, who works in health care, tugged at the scarf draped across her chest, steadying herself as she fought back tears while recalling Small’s death and the steady stream of headlines chronicling the loss of over 1,000 Black lives since, according to the Mapping Police Violence database that tracks the number of fatal police encounters since 2013.

Less than 24 hours after Small was killed, a bystander in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, captured 37-year-old Alton Sterling being shot and killed by two police officers. Yet no federal or state charges were filed. The following day in St. Paul, Minnesota, 32-year-old Philando Castile, a licensed gun owner, was fatally shot during a traffic stop, his girlfriend broadcasting the shooting live on Facebook. The officer involved, Jeronimo Yanez, was acquitted of all state charges in 2017. 

It’s incidents like those that sparked change at least in Ramsey County, Minnesota, where its local prosecutor implemented a policy in 2021 declining to prosecute non-public safety traffic crimes such as a broken tail light in honor of Castile. The 2015 executive order in New York came in response to the disproportionate number of people of color, particularly Black individuals, killed by law enforcement each year. It also sought to address the imbalance in criminal convictions and civil protections, where qualified immunity often shielded officers from financial accountability.

Isaacs’ acquittal raised questions about the executive order’s effectiveness in securing accountability on the state level. The Brooklyn district attorney’s office, which would have prosecuted Small’s case, has since indicted current and former law enforcement officers in the borough on charges beyond homicide, including assault, bribery, perjury, and official misconduct. 

Without second-guessing the criminal case, Dempsey said he believes pursuing a federal investigation or filing a federal civil lawsuit — during the first Trump administration or now — is a lost cause.

“We didn’t want that to be a failure,” he said. 

Pattern and practice investigations reserved to investigate police departments with allegations of misconduct were frozen until Joe Biden was president. By that point, having the NYPD’s Civilian Complaint Review Board’s recommendation to fire Isaacs in 2020 and a departmental hearing pending, the family gambled on that. 

“And now Trump is back in office — again,” Dempsey said. “The federal route is just not an option for us at this time.”

But for Albert, she awaits that “happy” feeling she once had when the television cameras went away after the verdict. She felt relief not having to answer questions from strangers, clients, and co-workers after returning to work from maternity leave. 

“People just want to know … and have their opinions,” Albert said with a shrug. “I felt I had to explain all those things, when the trial started, people were like ‘Oh, I’ve seen this,’ but my director [supervisor at work] put a pause to that.”

She said her focus has always been — and will remain — on her family’s well-being as they navigate grief, growing increasingly weary of the next legal hurdle that is sure to make headlines.

“Time does not heal,” Albert said. Her composure broke after two hours of conversation as tears welled in her eyes. “Raising a child who lost their father is the hardest thing — explaining it, trying to fill that void, being careful.”

She wiped her eyes with her scarf and paused. 

“Delrawn — he was a real one,” she said. Dempsey, Shondell Small, and Kyree Small nodded and hummed in agreement, with a “yup” from Shondell in the background. 

“I will not find anyone like that,” Albert said.

Still, the Small family clings to hope. They know Rosemarie Maldonado, the NYPD disciplinary judge who oversaw the 2019 departmental trial and recommended firing Daniel Pantaleo — the officer never criminally charged in Eric Garner’s 2014 death — is assigned to Isaacs’ hearing. 

“I just remember saying ‘Damn, they killed another Black man,’ never knowing that it would come to our footsteps,” Dempsey admitted. “But when it did … I remember going online saying ‘This can happen to you,’ and ‘I don’t hate police, I hate bad cops.’”

It took six years before an NYPD commissioner moved to fire Pantaleo.

For Dempsey, the emotional preparation has taken a deeper toll than any strategic planning for justice.

“I felt like my brother was murdered twice with the acquittal,” Dempsey said. “I don’t know how I would do it a third time — having to tell my family if the commissioner doesn’t grant a hearing — and not feel like I let them down.”

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