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In this candid interview, filmmaker Brad Bailey discusses his latest documentary, Her Fight, His Name: The Story of Gwen Carr and Eric Garner. The 30-minute film chronicles the life of Gwen Carr, mother of Eric Garner, whose tragic death at the hands of police in Staten Island, New York, ignited a nationwide call for justice.
Bailey shares the challenges of documenting Gwenn Carr’s six-year journey—from her personal grief to her emergence as a powerful advocate for social justice and systemic reform. With a focus on resilience, memory, and action, this conversation explores the emotional depth of the Gwenn Carr’s story and the broader implications for change in the fight against police violence. [NOTE: This interview was slightly edited for clarity, though care was taken to assure the initial meaning was retained.]
Interview of Brad Bailey on Her Fight, His Name: The Story of Gwen Carr and Eric Garner
VENTS: What do you hope audiences take away from Her Fight, His Name?
Brad Bailey: This is a 30-minute documentary that deals with the life of the mother of Eric Garner, Gwen Carr, who was a train operator for the New York City transit system. She drove the A train through Manhattan and all the boroughs.
She was thrust into a media hurricane after the death of her son, Eric Garner, to police in Staten Island, New York, in 2014. She became essentially an icon, almost like the godmother of the Mothers of the Movement, which is a loose collective of mostly African American mothers who lost their children to violence, whether it be community or police violence.
They’ve created a sisterhood of mothers where they come together, bond, and heal. Unfortunately, they all feel like they’re part of an exclusive club no one wants to join, with a high price of membership: the death of a loved one.
When we started this film, I had no idea what to expect. I thought it would take only three months, but it turned into six years—six years because Gwen Carr is a tour de force. She is like no one I’ve ever met before. She’s a masterclass in power, resilience, and strength.
At the same time, I wanted to show in the film the process she undertook—of self-care and reflection—to get to the point where she could do some of the amazing things she does on screen.
VENTS: How do you, in the film, balance personal grief with the broader systemic issues of police violence and injustice?
Brad Bailey: I wanted to show in the film how her living room is covered in pictures. Many mothers and aunts have pictures of their loved ones on the walls, but with Gwen Carr, there’s not one space in that room without a photo. She had lost cherished mementos in a fire a few years earlier, so these pictures are the only tangible recollection she has outside of her memory.
They are incredibly valuable and precious. I wanted to show two things: how these photos serve as conduits of memory and how she uses memory for two purposes. First, to prevent herself from going to dark places in her mind, as one might after such a traumatic event. Second, as fuel for action and purpose—motivating her to fight for disciplinary action against the officers involved and for social justice in many ways.
She speaks not just to honor her own child but to protect all sons and daughters who need protection from police and community violence.
Has Anything Changed Since the Death of Eric Garner?
VENTS: Has anything changed since the death of Eric Garner? What still needs the most urgent attention, in your view?
Brad Bailey: Gwen Carr has brought a national spotlight to these issues. She was instrumental in the passage of an Anti-Chokehold Act in New York State, named after Eric Garner. Through her efforts, she’s protecting children who aren’t even born yet.
She’s also pushing for legislative change on a national scale. Beyond that, she’s made this story resonate internationally. When Black Lives Matter emerged, it impacted people worldwide. Outside the political group, the issues of social justice, individual rights, and basic safety struck a chord globally.
Just the other day, I was at an airport gate, and a police officer approached me with some attitude. Luckily, another officer clarified that I wasn’t the person they were looking for. They soon found an African American man nearby who was the actual individual of interest.
But what if that clarification hadn’t happened? That sort of situation plays out every day. It doesn’t matter your education or geography—it can happen to anyone. For me, telling this story is about addressing those realities.
VENTS: Were there moments where you had to adjust the direction or focus of the film to reflect unfolding events?
Brad Bailey: It was like white-water rapids. We had to adjust all the time. Wherever Gwen Carr went, we followed, even if I was on the other side of the country.
Sometimes, I had to direct remotely, relying on a skilled team to capture critical moments, whether it was a protest, a meeting with the mayor, or national media appearances. With a micro-budget, this was a test of strength and character. It also required a consistent, dedicated team who believed in the project throughout.
The Role of Art in Driving Change
VENTS: How do you see the role of art, particularly documentary filmmaking, in driving social change in this moment?
Brad Bailey: We’re in an interesting political moment, and a lot of people are afraid of what’s coming next. I think the role of art and documentary is to shine a spotlight and act as a guidepost.
Miss Carr’s story demonstrates that people with great courage can affect change—not just in their own lives, but in their communities and the larger world. I hope this film inspires people to find their own strength for whatever comes next.
VENTS: I remember the Amadou Diallo incident when I was in high school. He was shot multiple times, and it turned out he didn’t even have a weapon. It’s been a long-standing issue.
Brad Bailey: A lot of people don’t know this, but I used to work as an investigator for the Civilian Complaint Review Board in New York City right after graduating from Yale. My job for two years was to investigate police misconduct. That experience informed this film and my understanding of the landscape.
It’s an unfortunate reality in our country, but a story like this can help change minds. Seeing human faces on screen creates a deeper connection than statistics ever could.
The Importance pf Giving Faces to Names
VENTS: There’s a saying [in this context, regarding giving a movement a face]: “The death of one is a tragedy; the death of millions is a statistic.” I think that’s often attributed to Stalin, oddly enough. What are your thoughts on the different treatment people give to human faces versus names on paper, or in statistics?
Brad Bailey: Absolutely. I wanted to show what happens to families when the cameras go away. What happens in their private moments?
There are many private moments over these six years that I won’t share, but the ones included in the film reveal that these are real people, not so different from anyone watching.
We’re all one family at the end of the day. Gwen Carr, like other mothers, loves her son deeply. Her pictures are ties through time, connecting her to those she loves—both past and present. These bonds are universal.
VENTS: Final question: Were you ever concerned about whether you were tackling these issues with enough sensitivity?
Brad Bailey: I see this as not just a documentary or journalism—it’s also oral history.
As an oral historian, I have a duty of care to my narrators. Their well-being comes above everything else. With Miss Carr, I ensured she had fully engaged consent throughout.
I probably messed up many things over the years, but I believe I got that part right. Transparency, honesty, and authenticity were crucial in our relationship. Gwen Carr recognized that, and I think that’s why we got to where we are today.
VENTS: Thank you for your time…
