I was a young child when I called the police over an incident with someone close to the family. I remember the feeling of safety I had when the officers arrived, and that put into motion my strong desire to make sure others felt the same way. I decided at a young age to have a career in law enforcement, and everything I did carried me to that goal.
I studied law, interned with a district attorney, and attained my degree in criminal justice. I worked with the sheriff’s department. I also became a nationally certified emergency medical technician and was a student of a variety of martial arts. I wanted to be the best.
I took a defensive and evasive driving course that was geared toward protection specialists, but that only gave me a bloated sense of driving skills that I abused. I was too stupid as a young man to realize that you needed a clean driving record—for at least the past two years. This was a bit of a problem because of my proclivity toward racing. As a result, despite my many qualifications and even though I graduated college, no city would hire me.
My solution was to join the Air Force’s Security Police—as they were called at the time. This would give me military experience and allow time to clear my driving record. In that era, this specialty was divided into law enforcement specialists and security specialists, and I was a law enforcement. After a four-year stint, my plan was to work as a cop for a city.
The academy at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas is the same one used for the Navy’s police. It is so good that several police departments don’t require you to go through their training if you complete it. I was very impressed with the degree of instruction we received. We spent a lot of time learning how to diffuse situations, how to investigate, how to interact with different cultures, and had an entire section of the course dedicated to dealing with deadly force. Essentially, we were given a simulator and presented with numerous situations where we had to make a split-second decision.
It wasn’t easy. If you took too long to draw your weapon, you were shot. If you overreacted, you killed an innocent person. There was a rule, or at least there was when I went through the training: If you shot an innocent person, you failed automatically. However, that rule didn’t apply if you were the one who got shot.
One scenario I remember failing was a guy who refused to heed my orders to stop approaching. He reached in his jacket to pull out a gun, and I shot him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a gun. It was black cardboard stock paper that had bold white typeface with something along the lines of “I am deaf.” I had just shot a deaf kid. My instructor reamed me over that and pointed out that the headline in the paper the next morning would read that I murder handicapped children.
In another scenario, it was the exact same teenager. This time, however, the kid had a gun. I hesitated, and this time I got shot. I decided that I would rather get it right, and vowed to never draw my 9 mm, in this simulation or in real life, unless I was absolutely sure. I just couldn’t live with myself if I got it wrong, and that stuck with me throughout my years.
After graduation, I was stationed at an air base in San Antonio, Texas. I patrolled, executed warrants, pulled over drunk drivers, cleared buildings after alarms went off, and answered an abnormally high number of domestic violence calls. At that time, the city of San Antonio was the only one in the nation that had a town patrol because of the large number of military personnel who trained, lived, and worked in the city.
The city police got tired of calling up the military police to come get their soldier, Marine, or airmen downtown who got into trouble, so they offered up a place in their building. Thus, the Armed Forces Police Department was created, and local bases contributed military members who would patrol the city streets. I was among their ranks. (It has since been disbanded.)
This was the lowest-paid job I ever had, but it was the one that brought me the most job satisfaction. I remember an incident where a child accidentally harmed another child in a trampoline incident, and the mother asked me if I would talk to her distraught kid and let him know it was an accident and wasn’t his fault. It was the first time I remember that I felt like I was providing the care and safety that was given to me so long ago.
The years flew by, and I had to make a decision to stay or go. I had made connections and considered leaving to work as a police officer in a nearby city where I worked. Instead, I wound up leaving the military for another job in a new career field, although I did work as a reserve police officer for years.
I didn’t regret leaving the military. From time to time I had to be deployed to some rough places to protect bases in dangerous and remote areas. (We were trained in infantry tactics as well for this very reason.) Since this is outside my cop journey, I’ll just say that I had a tough time—at one site I was almost killed. That made me realize how fragile life is, and since I had a new wife and young child, I didn’t want to take as many risks.
My wife, being a Black woman, had a very different experience with the police growing up. She does not remember her encounters fondly. I hate to say it, but I see exactly what she means on the few occasions where she gets pulled over, as compared to the multiple times it happens to me. (I’m still a speed demon.) One time, my wife returned late one evening from the store. An hour later, the police came to our home and falsely accused her of a hit-and-run based on an eyewitness account.
Our house was surrounded, and even though there wasn’t so much as a scratch on her car, they detained and questioned her for over an hour. It wasn’t until the eyewitness recanted his story that they finally left. To this day, my wife does not drive at night in our city. If she needs something, she asks me to go get it. I don’t argue.
My time in law enforcement was long ago, but I think about it every single time there is a news story on police brutality. I always cringe. I’m thinking about it right now when reading about the police killing of Tyre Nichols in Memphis. I just have a few reflections:
1. I really, really, really hate bad cops.
2. I hate bad unions. Unions on the whole are awesome and in some cases are the only protections workers have. Yet some unions seem to solely have the purpose of protecting bad people, and sadly, most police unions seem to fall in this category. Not everyone can do this job, and some people should never do this job. Stop protecting them.
3. I would have loved to have body cameras. Good cops like them, and bad cops don’t. I wanted them because I got accused of doing things I didn’t do (which happens a lot in this field). Cameras show the truth. I didn’t have that option back then.
4. Don’t ever, ever, tell me that the job is stressful, and we need to give cops a pass. I know it’s stressful, which is why it shouldn’t be open to those who show they can’t handle it. Let them do something else. This isn’t a job you “grow” into. You do something else.
5. Cop shows and movies do a disservice. The belief that cops are constantly fighting and pulling out their gun is a myth. You can have a 20-year career and never draw your weapon. Whenever you do, it’s a serious and traumatic event. Also, Hollywood tends to show cops as tough by talking down to people. This is the opposite of how you get results. Finally—and this is a pet peeve of mine—cops can never handcuff you to a stationary object. I see that on the screen all the time.
6. The best cops are the ones who are skilled at de-escalation. Period. I was always called for domestic violence situations because I was good at de-escalating. Bad cops are those who try to escalate dangerous and violent situations.
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If I were to be put in charge of reform, I would talk about better recruiting, and much better training with a strong emphasis on legal knowledge, de-escalation tactics, and deadly force training. I would require body cameras and try to make it easier to get rid of those who shouldn’t be there. Don’t tell Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis, but diversity training is also critical. I was instructed in one of my classes by a former police chief who told me you can’t change people’s beliefs, but you can damn sure change their behavior and train how they react to situations.
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I used to like talking about this part of my history, but not always—especially now. Cops of all colors have been taught in certain police departments to view particular neighborhoods as war zones, and that it’s okay—even encouraged—to mete out street justice to get results. It’s okay because they aren’t like us, you see.
Good cops need to speak up and speak out more. They need to tell conservatives to shut their mouths when they try to justify bad behavior against minorities. I hate how they always pretend to support law enforcement only to get mad later when white supremacists get arrested.
And bad cops just need to be fired, like the ones who killed Tyre Nichols. I’m glad the police chief took such decisive action, but the fact that they were so comfortable killing means there’s a rot in the culture that needs to be expunged. I don’t think it’s limited to Memphis either.
I hope Democrats will take action on police reform. Even if something doesn’t pass this year, it will serve as a blueprint for when they can. The worst thing is to do nothing. I want change. Most of all, I want to be able to talk with pride again about a job that used to mean the world to me.