I've struggled to write this blog post. Partially because of my own sense of embarrassment or even shame. And because while it is a story about one good cop -- it's about so much more. Organizing my thoughts and feelings has been challenging.
In such spaces, I rely upon the inspiring wisdom and insights of others. In this case, Bryan Stevenson, as expressed in his commencement speech at Johns Hopkins in 2018. Even if you don't read this blog post, please watch his talk:
I am nowhere near as articulate as Stevenson so I hope don't inadequately describe his four main points:
So now onto my story...I will note that I did not hear everything clearly and it was dark outside. Nonetheless, I believe this story is a reasonable and true account in an essential sense.
After an especially long day and week of work -- none of which required me to expose myself to health risk or physical labor -- I sat down to watch my latest show on Netflix, an escape that has become even more welcome during the pandemic. Shortly after I started to watch, I heard a man yelling outside my window. His yelling became loud enough that I could not hear my TV.
Irritated, I moved to the window to examine the scene outside my house. There was indeed someone yelling at the top of his lungs. An African American man. With a white policeman standing over him.
For the sake of brevity, I will refer to them as the man and the cop.
My first very thought was that I did not want to be proximate to this scene.
The man kept yelling loudly and repeatedly swore "This is fucked up." Throughout the entire time, the cop simply kept saying: "I understand...I'm trying to help...relax." The cop was standing in the Baltimore heat, dealing with an incredibly angry man, and yet kept his patience. I pondered this as I reflected on my previous irritation, which had now shifted to nervousness and anxiety.
At one point, the man reached into his pockets. It was the first time I heard the cop's voice and stance change: "Don't reach into your pockets."
It must have been only a couple of seconds but it felt like an eternity before the man produced what appeared to some jewelry and money. He said something to the effect of wanting to make sure he kept an eye on it. The cop seemed to relax.
Eventually, other police officers showed up though the cop was the person who kept engaging with the man. As the man's anger subsided, the cop started to ask about hearing the man's side of the story. I couldn't make out all the details but it seemed that there was a group of people who had an altercation with this man.
The cop tried several ways of engaging this man and eventually seemed to gain his trust. The cop joked with the man, referring at one point to his salt and pepper beard. He asked him about any medical conditions. The cop seemed to be asking about possible social services the man might need. Eventually, the man described a scene where three kids attacked him and he fought back in self defense. His initial anger reflected the fact that the police were talking with him and not the three kids.
As the questioning continued, the man settled down and even started to laugh occasionally. I thought to myself that this is deescalation. I imagine that the cop must have assessed the potential threat but decided to adopt a...proximate approach.
Eventually, the cop told that man that they would take him away. I think the man and I assumed it would some type of ambulance.
Instead, another police car showed up.
The man became visibly upset, stood up and started yelling again: "Are you fucking kidding me?...you're going to take me in?" As three other police officers moved in, I thought one of them said: "We might have to cuff him."
While I was devastated by what was happening to this man, I was also selfishly imagining what I would do if this situation become worse. I took out my phone and wondered if I should start recording. Even from the safety of my home, I felt a deep sense of panic -- and admiration for those who have recorded police scenes with considerably greater risk.
I don't want my life to be affected by becoming involved. I kept thinking that selfishly as another man's life was going to be affected in a far, far worse way.
Then another type of outburst changed the scene completely. The man started crying. Sobbing. Uncontrollably. He kept saying that it was fucked up that he was being arrested when the kids were nowhere to be found. He then started talking about his kids. And how he couldn't go back to prison. He pleaded with the cop to listen.
The cop tried to be comforting saying that "I wasn't there..I can't speak for those kids." At one point, he said, "you'll have your day in court." The man, at this point, collapsed onto the ground, said: "You know it's 45 days before that happens..."
The cop simply said: "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."
As I stood watching this scene, unsuccessfully fighting back tears, I kept thinking about this man's life was about to change.
You have a better chance of justice if you're rich and guilty than if you're poor and innocent.
However, this cop was going to change the narrative and remain hopeful even if he had to become uncomfortable. After a series of conversations and calls, another police officer showed up. The cop explained to the man that this was an investigating officer. That he should tell him his story. Eventually the man did so -- after much effort from the cop.
The investigating officer walked away from the immediate scene and called someone in authority right near my front door. I heard the entire conversation. The key elements included that the man had a plausible case for being attacked first and defending himself. And that the cop on the scene seems to believe him.
So they decided not to arrest him.
The cop asked the man if he needed a ride, if he needed medical attention and even gave him advice on where to catch the bus.
As the scene dissipated, I ran outside to find the cop. After he was done speaking with other officers, I thanked him profusely. I was so overwhelmed that I forgot to ask for his name, something I regret deeply.
He simply responded: "I'm just doing my job, sir. You have a good night."
Perhaps some might think that all police officers should act this way. Speaking for myself, I have a long way to go from being irritated at the interruption of my Netflix viewing to walking on water. So I'll forgo that type of assertion.
My university issues crime reports. In this case, it would have almost certainly included something to the effect of:
"Affiliates (if they were university students) or non-affiliates (if not) were assaulted by a suspect who was subsequently questioned and arrested by the Baltimore Police."
And I would have believed that narrative. And worried about crime in my neighborhood. And, if I being uncomfortably and brutally honest, I would have wondered if the suspect was an African American man.
Our institutions are being questioned more than ever. Depending on your political or social orientation, your faith in the police or universities might be diminished or even shattered. But institutions are made of up of individuals. In most cases, they are made of individuals who are saints and sinners with the majority of them being in between. Bryan Stevenson does not believe we should be judged by our worst actions. But perhaps we can be praised for our best actions.
I watched an interview on Democracy Now of a former police officer who has started an organization focused on police reform. He stated that if you are in trouble, there is nothing worse than a bad cop...but there's also nothing better than a good cop.
And if you're an incredibly good cop -- a decent, kind, caring human being -- you can indeed be proximate, change the narrative, and remain hopeful even if it means being uncomfortable.
In such spaces, I rely upon the inspiring wisdom and insights of others. In this case, Bryan Stevenson, as expressed in his commencement speech at Johns Hopkins in 2018. Even if you don't read this blog post, please watch his talk:
I am nowhere near as articulate as Stevenson so I hope don't inadequately describe his four main points:
- "Get proximate to people who are suffering or excluded."
- Be close to the people or issues or institutions or spaces you wish to embrace. It's fine to read or think about them but real change needs proximity. My own interpretation is that proximity is the necessary ingredient for empathy. From his talk: "Proximity will empower you."
- "Change some of the narratives that are out there."
- Stevenson talks about the politics of fear and anger and racial division and the corresponding societal policies and structures. Stevenson notes that you have a better chance of justice if you're rich and guilty rather than if you're poor and innocent. And how such narratives are infectious to the personal level including my own assumptions and biases. He says: "It's like smog...we breathe it in the air..but we have to change it."
- I often talk about resetting the default, which has been established by those with power and privilege, both explicit and implicit. As an example, another person with inspiring wisdom and insight, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, recently spoke poignantly and powerfully about changing the default and narrative around mistreatment and abuse of women:
- "Stay hopeful...hopelessness is the enemy of justice."
- I am often called a cynic -- with good reason. And such cynicism leads me to complain rather than act. But I find great inspiration in Stevenson's casting of hope as "an orientation of the spirit", not an unrealistic optimism but a courageous stance to see injustice and remain vigilant and empowered enough to act.
- "Be willing to do things that are inconvenient and uncomfortable."
- Change -- personal or societal -- is never comfortable. I have plenty of experience with such inconvenience and discomfort in my personal journey but I have far less experience in the context of broader change, especially for others.
So now onto my story...I will note that I did not hear everything clearly and it was dark outside. Nonetheless, I believe this story is a reasonable and true account in an essential sense.
After an especially long day and week of work -- none of which required me to expose myself to health risk or physical labor -- I sat down to watch my latest show on Netflix, an escape that has become even more welcome during the pandemic. Shortly after I started to watch, I heard a man yelling outside my window. His yelling became loud enough that I could not hear my TV.
Irritated, I moved to the window to examine the scene outside my house. There was indeed someone yelling at the top of his lungs. An African American man. With a white policeman standing over him.
For the sake of brevity, I will refer to them as the man and the cop.
My first very thought was that I did not want to be proximate to this scene.
The man kept yelling loudly and repeatedly swore "This is fucked up." Throughout the entire time, the cop simply kept saying: "I understand...I'm trying to help...relax." The cop was standing in the Baltimore heat, dealing with an incredibly angry man, and yet kept his patience. I pondered this as I reflected on my previous irritation, which had now shifted to nervousness and anxiety.
At one point, the man reached into his pockets. It was the first time I heard the cop's voice and stance change: "Don't reach into your pockets."
It must have been only a couple of seconds but it felt like an eternity before the man produced what appeared to some jewelry and money. He said something to the effect of wanting to make sure he kept an eye on it. The cop seemed to relax.
Eventually, other police officers showed up though the cop was the person who kept engaging with the man. As the man's anger subsided, the cop started to ask about hearing the man's side of the story. I couldn't make out all the details but it seemed that there was a group of people who had an altercation with this man.
The cop tried several ways of engaging this man and eventually seemed to gain his trust. The cop joked with the man, referring at one point to his salt and pepper beard. He asked him about any medical conditions. The cop seemed to be asking about possible social services the man might need. Eventually, the man described a scene where three kids attacked him and he fought back in self defense. His initial anger reflected the fact that the police were talking with him and not the three kids.
As the questioning continued, the man settled down and even started to laugh occasionally. I thought to myself that this is deescalation. I imagine that the cop must have assessed the potential threat but decided to adopt a...proximate approach.
Eventually, the cop told that man that they would take him away. I think the man and I assumed it would some type of ambulance.
Instead, another police car showed up.
The man became visibly upset, stood up and started yelling again: "Are you fucking kidding me?...you're going to take me in?" As three other police officers moved in, I thought one of them said: "We might have to cuff him."
While I was devastated by what was happening to this man, I was also selfishly imagining what I would do if this situation become worse. I took out my phone and wondered if I should start recording. Even from the safety of my home, I felt a deep sense of panic -- and admiration for those who have recorded police scenes with considerably greater risk.
I don't want my life to be affected by becoming involved. I kept thinking that selfishly as another man's life was going to be affected in a far, far worse way.
Then another type of outburst changed the scene completely. The man started crying. Sobbing. Uncontrollably. He kept saying that it was fucked up that he was being arrested when the kids were nowhere to be found. He then started talking about his kids. And how he couldn't go back to prison. He pleaded with the cop to listen.
The cop tried to be comforting saying that "I wasn't there..I can't speak for those kids." At one point, he said, "you'll have your day in court." The man, at this point, collapsed onto the ground, said: "You know it's 45 days before that happens..."
The cop simply said: "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."
As I stood watching this scene, unsuccessfully fighting back tears, I kept thinking about this man's life was about to change.
You have a better chance of justice if you're rich and guilty than if you're poor and innocent.
However, this cop was going to change the narrative and remain hopeful even if he had to become uncomfortable. After a series of conversations and calls, another police officer showed up. The cop explained to the man that this was an investigating officer. That he should tell him his story. Eventually the man did so -- after much effort from the cop.
The investigating officer walked away from the immediate scene and called someone in authority right near my front door. I heard the entire conversation. The key elements included that the man had a plausible case for being attacked first and defending himself. And that the cop on the scene seems to believe him.
So they decided not to arrest him.
The cop asked the man if he needed a ride, if he needed medical attention and even gave him advice on where to catch the bus.
As the scene dissipated, I ran outside to find the cop. After he was done speaking with other officers, I thanked him profusely. I was so overwhelmed that I forgot to ask for his name, something I regret deeply.
He simply responded: "I'm just doing my job, sir. You have a good night."
Perhaps some might think that all police officers should act this way. Speaking for myself, I have a long way to go from being irritated at the interruption of my Netflix viewing to walking on water. So I'll forgo that type of assertion.
My university issues crime reports. In this case, it would have almost certainly included something to the effect of:
"Affiliates (if they were university students) or non-affiliates (if not) were assaulted by a suspect who was subsequently questioned and arrested by the Baltimore Police."
And I would have believed that narrative. And worried about crime in my neighborhood. And, if I being uncomfortably and brutally honest, I would have wondered if the suspect was an African American man.
Our institutions are being questioned more than ever. Depending on your political or social orientation, your faith in the police or universities might be diminished or even shattered. But institutions are made of up of individuals. In most cases, they are made of individuals who are saints and sinners with the majority of them being in between. Bryan Stevenson does not believe we should be judged by our worst actions. But perhaps we can be praised for our best actions.
I watched an interview on Democracy Now of a former police officer who has started an organization focused on police reform. He stated that if you are in trouble, there is nothing worse than a bad cop...but there's also nothing better than a good cop.
And if you're an incredibly good cop -- a decent, kind, caring human being -- you can indeed be proximate, change the narrative, and remain hopeful even if it means being uncomfortable.
