CHICAGO - The fallout from "Surviving R. Kelly" was immediate and the backlash unmistakable. In the wake of the six-hour Lifetime documentary series, the aftershocks keep coming.
Millions of people tuned in to the marathon viewing experience that tracked decades of abuse allegations against the "Pied Piper of R&B."
Now, a new generation is grappling with Kelly's legacy for the first time, and alleged victims and their parents who were interviewed in the documentary tell the Tribune about their ongoing quest for justice. Chicagoans, along with outsiders keeping an eye on how the city reacts to its fallen hometown star, are waiting to see if this time fans renounce Kelly for good.
There are still supporters of Kelly - cars pulled up at a recent rally blasting Kelly's music and Erykah Badu sent up a "prayer" for the artist at a Chicago concert - but many who have watched Kelly's saga unfold say this moment isn't like previous tides.
"The difference is that if you now support R. Kelly, you can't do so ignorantly, and you can't do so naively," said Salamishah Tillet, a co-founder of A Long Walk Home, a Chicago nonprofit that helped with counseling services on the Lifetime series and is focused on using art to end violence against women and girls. "It's almost like this box has been opened up, and there's just more and more people who are finding their voice in this collective."
Tillet's sister Scheherazade, who is also a co-founder of A Long Walk Home and a driving force behind the emergence of the #MuteRKelly movement in Chicago, said the documentary was able to reach a massive audience because of executive producer Dream Hampton's mix of art and activism.
"Some people had these experiences, but the #MeToo movement didn't connect to them yet," said Tillet. "It's like you're surviving it with them."
Tillet said the response to the documentary reminds her of the backlash that has followed the release of videos depicting police brutality. "There's something very real about that element that doesn't allow you to turn your back in the same way," she said.
In 2002, Cook County prosecutors indicted Kelly on child pornography charges, alleging he filmed himself having sex with a girl estimated to be as young as 13, but a jury acquitted him of all charges in 2008.
Kelly has long denied all allegations of sexual abuse and running a "sex cult" - and for decades, his career has carried on as usual.
Then, on Jan. 3, the first episode of the documentary aired, and local reaction was swift.
In the following days, Cook County State's Attorney Kim Foxx called on accusers to come forward. Chance the Rapper apologized for collaborating with Kelly and protesters gathered outside Kelly's Chicago studio. Police were called to Kelly's Trump Tower residence, building inspectors were allowed to inspect his studio and a Springfield concert was halted.
Kelly's attorney Steve Greenberg said it's been an overreaction.
"I finally got around to watching it, and it just seemed like episode after episode of the same sort of rehashed interviews spliced differently," Greenberg said. "All these allegations that people have made and the allegations the parents are making now, they've all been investigated and dismissed."
'I LOOKED AT HIM LIKE A HERO'
Salamishah Tillet said there's a "pre- and post-documentary generation."
"And so what does it mean for young people in Chicago to now listen to R. Kelly?" she asked.
At a recent rally outside Kelly's Near West Side studio, Tebitha Kulikowska, 26, of the Belmont Cragin neighborhood, held a sign that said "'Age ain't nothing but a number' WELL jail ain't nothing but a room."
When Kelly went to court, Kulikowska said, she was too young to understand the situation. But the documentary provided a timeline and opened her eyes to the magnitude of the allegations. "The accessibility is the biggest thing," said Kulikowksa. "Because more people can see it, you become interested."
It also meant more people were exposed to his music. Streaming numbers for R. Kelly reportedly almost doubled after the documentary, according to Nielsen Music. Kelly's music streamed 870,316 times on Jan. 2, the day before the series premiere, Nielsen said, and streamed nearly 1.73 million times after the last episode aired Jan. 6.
But many young people who grew up with Kelly's music - lip-syncing to "Ignition" at homecoming or celebrating a graduation with "I Believe I Can Fly" and "The World's Greatest" - are turning their backs.
Ally Bridges, 16, a participant in the theater program at Nicholas Senn High School, attended an earlier protest outside Kelly's studio.
"I'm not going to lie to you, I was a huge R. Kelly fan," said Bridges. "And I used to really, really, really love his music. And I'm in the Chicago Children's Choir so he was an inspiration for me. I looked at him as a hero."
Bridges said when she heard about the allegations growing up, she didn't take them seriously.
"With my family, a lot of people weren't really talking about it, or talking about their experiences with R. Kelly," said Bridges, noting that members of her family had talked to the singer at events when he was coming up in Chicago's music scene.
But after watching the documentary with her mom and dad, something shifted. Bridges couldn't shake the moment in the series when Asante McGee revisits the empty Georgia home where she alleges she was abused by Kelly.
"It was hurtful, and no one's even in there," Bridges said.
Bridges started an Instagram account to protest Kelly and uplift victims of domestic violence. She said she plans to let fellow students know about any upcoming protests and hopes to persuade those who are still apathetic to take a stand.
Bridges said she doesn't plan to listen to Kelly's music again: "Somebody we listen to almost every single day, for every event that we had," she said. "We don't want to listen to him anymore."
Allison's mom, Glenda Bridges, 55, of Austin, was a self-described "pretty big fan" of Kelly's. When he was acquitted, she gave the man who she thought was a brilliant musician the benefit of the doubt.
"You don't know what's going on in people's lives," said Glenda Bridges. "He was proven not guilty, so I continued to listen."
She said it was her daughter's idea to watch the Lifetime documentary. "And I was like, OK, we'll sit down and watch it because here's a chance to hear more.
"It was actually kind of traumatic to hear all of this stuff," she said. "And the fact that it's so many different women basically saying the same type of thing, that's what made me say, 'OK, yeah, enough is enough of this. All these different people are not just out to get him.' "
Bridges said she was glad her family had the viewing experience together, so she could field questions from her daughter - who's interested in music and acting - about why the women might stay in Kelly's orbit or why parents might let them go.
"No more R. Kelly," said Glenda Bridges. "It's time to just stop. You have to put an end to it and let him know he needs to get help. People have to stand ground for these young women that have gone through this turmoil and tragedy."
'THE BALL IS IN LAW ENFORCEMENT'S HANDS'
Angelo Clary, a Florida father featured in the documentary, is still trying to make contact with his daughter Azriel, who he alleges has been part of Kelly's "cult" for the past three years.
"The awareness has been greatly needed," said Clary. "It gave voice to people that have been holding this inside for the last 20 years."
But there were aspects of his daughter's life that weren't presented in the documentary that drew the aspiring singer into Kelly's world, Clary said. He has previously accused a woman in Kelly's camp of misrepresenting herself in initial meetings.
"It's actually quite humiliating," said Clary, about comments the family has received criticizing their role in connecting their daughter with Kelly.
In May, the Clarys flew to Chicago from their Florida home after receiving a report that their daughter was at Kelly's Near West Side studio, the Chicago location at the center of 2017 reporting by Jim DeRogatis on Kelly's "sex cult." Once there, Clary said, police threatened to arrest them and appeared to be friendly with the bodyguards.
The Chicago Police Department said there was no record of reports or in-car camera footage of the incident and denied a Tribune request for body camera video.
R. Kelly's attorneys have denied anyone was living in his West Side recording studio, but city attorneys presented photos to a judge that showed toiletries in the bathroom, bathrobes on hooks and piles of clothes and mattresses on the floor. Read the story here.
Last week, Kelly's recording studio was found to have more than 60 code violations, including an illegal steam room and sauna, according to an amended complaint filed by the city, and a judge has ordered the second-floor living quarters to be shut down.
Clary said he is not deterred, and he and his wife plan to travel to Chicago again to protest.
"I will travel anywhere. If they tell me my daughter is in Hong Kong, I'll be there."
Gerald Griggs, an Atlanta-based lawyer who represents Timothy and Jonjelyn Savage, who have repeatedly accused Kelly of keeping their daughter Joycelyn from contacting them, said he hopes the documentary will lead to the family reconnecting and justice being served.
Griggs said he's been in touch with 15 accusers, some recent and some dating back to 1992.
"I think that from what I know I provided, to both prosecutors' offices, they have enough to open an investigation and ultimately charge," said Griggs, referring to investigations in Atlanta and Chicago. "I think the ball is in law enforcement's hands. And my hope is they will do what they've been charged to do."
Griggs said that the "reluctancy here is kind of telling, that it took a docuseries for them to even take interest."
A representative of the Fulton County, Ga., district attorney's office said the office has no comment at this time, but Griggs' office confirmed the firm has provided information to the district attorney's office. Cook County's Foxx has asked alleged victims to come forward, and CPD will follow up on all leads from prosecutors, said police spokesman Anthony Guglielmi.
'WE CAN'T AFFORD THE LUXURY OF OVERLOOKING THOSE THINGS'
Activists - and alleged victims - are seeking other paths to justice. Experts have warned that building a case could prove difficult and organizers have watched previous attention focused on Kelly rise and fall after the April cancellation of his hometown concert.
Still, local radio stations WGCI, Power 92 and V104, as well as local producer Jam Productions and Lollapalooza, did not return requests for comment on whether they would continue to play Kelly's music or book him again.
Scheherazade Tillet thought Kelly might face repercussions after the Time's Up movement, which had powerful black women at its helm, put its weight behind #MuteRKelly and called for a boycott of the artist. Spotify removed Kelly's music from playlists and Pitchfork said they wouldn't book him again.
"And then it went away so quickly. Like he could come back here and do a concert. I felt like the memories were wiped away, which is a constant pattern."
Some activists want to spread the spotlight on Kelly to all victims of abuse.
Lizzette Martinez, who appeared in the Lifetime documentary, will speak at an upcoming "Believe Survivors: Surviving R. Kelly and Beyond" town hall at Euclid Avenue United Methodist Church in Oak Park in February. In the wake of the documentary, Martinez said women, teenagers and men have reached out through social media. In between taking care of her family, traveling and working with a domestic violence nonprofit, she tries to respond to each message and posts about resources to assist others experiencing abuse.
Oak Park teacher behind R. Kelly protest wants men to step up, speak out
"They feel like they know me because I've shared something so personal," she said. "So it (the documentary) did its job. I wanted to help others, and that's where we are right now."
Martinez said she had no idea the documentary would affect so many people.
"The world woke up," she said. "We have to continue with the dialogue. We have to continue saving lives. We have to continue the talks in communities because that's where the kids are."
For Martinez, justice means accountability for abusers, other victims getting the help they need and young women finding the courage to speak out. She hopes the upcoming panel inspires others to share their stories and changes minds.
"Back when I was a child, you didn't have this movement," she said. "So me going up against someone so powerful, I didn't think it would work out too well for me. But today's a different day. And women feel like we're not going to take it anymore, and that's powerful."
Naomi Leach, a senior at Oak Park and River Forest High School also involved in the "Believe Survivors" panel, watched as allegations involving some members of Chance the Rapper's collaborators popped up on social media following the documentary.
The allegations opened into the hashtag #SurvivingLoudly, created by high school senior Kaiann Nash as a way to centralize stories of abuse experienced in Chicago's music and activism circles.
"The climate of awareness because of the 'Surviving R. Kelly' series coming out, it's something that I'm capitalizing on and really trying to take advantage of to make sure all those parts of the conversation (around sexual assault) are addressed," Nash said. "No one wants to have to delete artists off their playlist, they don't want to have to re-evaluate their actions or relationships or people they keep company with. But if we want to see real change, we can't afford the luxury of overlooking those things anymore."
Leach has also fielded arguments from older generations about why Kelly is being targeted when there are others accused of abuse, like Hollywood's Harvey Weinstein.
"It's not taken seriously," said Leach. "I think it's because it's black girls he's targeting."
Salamishah Tillet said if there's a real reckoning with Kelly it has to happen in Chicago, where he was grown, sustained and protected.
"And from there goes the nation," she said.
Chicago Tribune's Jessi Roti contributed.