Perspective on our Police
Bottom Line: Yesterday one of the many comments I received in response to my comments regarding the rush to judgement to condemn the police in Sunday’s incident in Kenosha, Wisconsin was this: You are scared to say the police were wrong...Period... It’s a variation of a frequent falsehood I’ve heard time and again. That I’ll support police no matter what. That I’ll never understand, whatever. I wanted to share a little perspective on this issue with a story I’ve not shared previously because I do know what it’s like to be wronged by a police officer and I’m exhausted by people who operate on assumptions and throw the entire profession under the bus.
Twenty-two years ago, around midnight, I was on my way home on a highway in Savannah. My right front tire blew out on a stretch of the highway with a curb just past a curve in the road. By the time I was able to stop, the rim had flat spotted so I wasn’t able to drive it to a place where I could pull off the road. Traffic was light, I put on my hazards, remained in the car with my seatbelt and called for assistance. The next thing I knew I was laying on the highway in my seat on my side literally not knowing what hit me. In what was a miraculous moment, I stood up not a scratch on me, feeling fine and looked around to see what happened. Parts of my car were spread across all four lanes of the highway and I saw a truck which had jumped the curb and was embedded in a tree. I walked over to the truck and before I got there, the driver crawling out of the truck, said don’t tell anyone I’ve been drinking ok? Please don’t tell anyone I’ve been drinking. Needless to say, he was wasted. Thankfully, while he needed medical attention, his injuries were minor and he was alone in the truck. I say that because he managed to hit me going so fast that the entire front end of my car had been ripped off starting at the driver's side door, yet he still had enough speed to hop the curb and hit a tree hard enough that the passenger's side of his full-sized Dodge Ram was crushed to the bed of the truck. He’d managed to take the curve going so fast that he failed to see my stopped car and hit me at an angle that was just perfect enough to spare me by about six inches and him by about a foot. This is where it becomes about the police.
The arriving officer to the scene immediately went over to the driver of the truck and told me to stay where I was. A few minutes later he came over to ask me what happened. When I told him about my flat tire and how I was calling for assistance, he stopped me and said I was lying. He said the only way that accident could have happened was if I caused it. I plead my case and asked for another officer to respond to the scene. In the meantime, I asked for him to conduct a breathalyzer test on the other driver. He refused saying that if anyone needed a breathalyzer test it was me - alleging, I’d been drinking (which I had not at any point). Before another officer arrived at the scene the driver was gone. I later found out he had walked to a hospital which was only a couple of blocks away. When the second officer arrived, I explained the situation to him, but he said there really wasn’t anything he could do because the other driver wasn’t at the scene but he was kind enough to drive me home and told me the report would be available in the morning.
When I received the police report I was shocked. The report stated that I was at fault in the accident and was suspected to have been driving under the influence – though no conclusive sobriety test was conducted. I immediately contacted my insurance company and started an investigation with them. Long story shorter, after successfully conducting an investigation in conjunction with internal affairs, we learned:
- The arriving police officer was close friends with the father of the guy who hit me
- The driver already had one DUI
- The driver’s blood alcohol level monitored at the hospital was nearly three times the legal limit
- The driver was told by the cop to walk to the hospital by himself and tell the medical staff he was shaken up during an accident and had a few drinks before coming over - which he did
Upon the conclusion of the investigation I was cleared and the cop was fired. I decided not to pursue charges. So yes, I was nearly killed by a drunk driver, my car was totaled, and I was framed by a bad cop who was attempting to protect the son of his buddy. I know what a bad cop can do. It was after this my dad told me his saying which I adopted. There are few people better than good cops and few worse than bad ones but thankfully most are good cops. The moral of the story is this. There are good and bad people in all walks of life. But when it comes to law enforcement, we're all screwed without them – including the ingrates which slander and abuse police officers who put their lives on the line for us daily. We need as many good people in the profession as possible. What happens if/when good people no longer choose to be in law enforcement? And here’s the problem with the false narrative of systemic racism in policing and a rush to judgement around every turn. Every time this happens it further disincentives good people entering the profession. Every time this happens it further disincentives proactive policing. Every time this happens it further disincentives risk taking by law enforcement which may save lives. In other words, every time this false narrative is advanced it makes all of us less safe. That's stuck on stupid in addition to being wrong. Criminals like Michael Brown, George Floyd and Jacob Blake are held up as heroes while hundreds of thousands of actual heroes in law enforcement are subjected to abuse daily. Political correctness can kill. Just ask the families of hundreds of fallen officers who’ve been murdered in recent years.
Police who break the law must be held accountable to it but we all must stand up for what’s right and support those who keep us safe. What you see with the rioting is what happens the moment there’s the slightest breakdown in our system. Back the badge and spread the word.