When I was a child, I had nothing but respect and adoration for (and, of course, a slight fear of) the police. These men (and women, but back then, mostly men) were admired and I considered them to be heroes. I went through the brief period that I think many young boys (and probably some girls) go through of dreaming about being a cop one day: carrying a gun, driving really fast with lights flashing and sirens blazing, stopping the bad guys and saving the innocent. “To Protect and to Serve”… awesome, right?
And then I grew up and something changed.
My dealings with the police have been relatively limited during adulthood. The occasional speeding ticket, a couple of “warnings” for failing to signal at a turn or whatever. Fix-it tickets for an out headlight or taillight. Although none of these encounters were a good time, I wouldn’t describe them as horrible or terrifying.
In the past 6 months or so, I have had two dealings with the local police. Neither of these were even remotely pleasant, and in both cases, I did absolutely nothing wrong.
***
The first instance happened at the beginning of the summer. It was a Friday night between 9pm and 10pm. I had just left Fresh Foods (a grocery store in Gering) on a run for food to make supper the following night. I had turned on the radio and some song came on that I liked. So, to enjoy the song, I drove around a little instead of driving straight home. I drove up a side street, and then onto the main street, and down another side street. I wasn’t speeding, I was signaling, I wasn’t breaking any laws. I glanced in my rear view mirror on occasion and noticed that there was a car in the distance behind me, but I didn’t think anything of it. I turned off of the side street and back onto the main street. The song was almost over and I could take the next side street as the most-direct path to head home. As I turned onto the side street, I heard a motor gun behind me and headlights glared in my rear view mirror. Then the police lights started flashing and the cop was right on my ass. Freaking out and thinking he was on an emergency call and I was in his way, I jerked my car to the parking spots along the street to my right. To my surprise (and chagrin), the cop didn’t jettison past me as I expected him to. Instead, his car jerked to a stop behind me and the cop was quickly at my window.
Now, a little background, I was driving my oldest son’s car. It’s like a 2004 Dodge Stratus. It’s been in a fender bender or two, so it has a few dings on it, but it’s really not in bad shape. It also has tinted windows, legal, but dark. So, I guess the look of the car could have had something to do with why the cop was following me. No, that’s just me trying to make justifications for the bullshit that followed.
After I roll down my window, the cop says, “I’ve been following you for awhile and you seem to be driving aimlessly. What are you doing out?”
“I went to get some groceries at Fresh Foods and now I was just driving around listening to some music before I go home,” I say. I’m having a hard time catching my breath because the way his car flew up on my tail really did freak me out.
“Why did you jerk your car to the right into the parking spaces when I turned my light on?” he asked. There was zero pleasantness in his disposition.
“Because the you scared the shit out of me!” I snapped. I could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t like my honesty.
He shined his flashlight directly into my eyes.
“Your eyes are bloodshot,” he said. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”
Are you freaking kidding me! I could be out getting wasted at one of the over-abundance of local bars like many of the local yahoos on a Friday night, but I was just getting groceries and listening to some music before going home and, most likely, going to bed. Nothing I was doing would have indicated that I had been drinking and driving.
“I haven’t had anything to drink tonight,” I tell him as calmly as possible. Just follow their directions and do what they say and everything will be okay. I’m a middle-aged white guy. I have nothing to worry about, right? We are given instructions on how we have to interact with the police so nothing bad happens to us. Just follow the instructions.
He asks for license, registration and proof of insurance, which I give him, and he disappears back to his car. Now, the incident is almost over and I’m waiting for him to come back, give me my stuff, and let me be on my way. And really, that is what happens. But while I’m sitting there, my racing heart starting to slow, I try to imagine if this interaction would be playing out differently if, say, I was a young black man, or a Latino. What if a young black man who was doing exactly what I was doing had told the cop that the cop had “scared the shit out of him”? Would that black man still be sitting in his car with the cop checking his information? I’d like to think it would be all playing out the same, but I wonder. And would I have been equally able to remember to follow the unwritten “instructions” that we are told we must follow when dealing with the police if I thought I was solely being pulled over (while doing absolutely wrong) even partially because of the color of my skin or where my ancestors came from? And I wonder if the cop was taken off-guard with there being a middle-aged white dude in the dented Dodge Stratus with the tinted windows…
The cops came back to my car, told me I was free to go, told me he could tell by the way I was talking that I hadn’t been drinking, said that his eyes were probably a little bloodshot too because it had been a long day, and we parted company.
***
The next dealing I had with the local police was in Scottsbluff. Again, 9pm on a Friday night a couple of weeks ago. I was playing (GEEK ALERT) Pokémon Go. Yes, I play Pokémon Go. Yes, I’m an almost 50-year-old man. People with money play golf or people with friends have friends over or something. I play Pokémon Go. It’s what I do.
So I tell the wife that I need to go hit some PokéStops, because I’m out of gifts and I need some to send to friends. I tell her I’ll be back in like half an hour. She tells me how proud of me and my amazing Pokémon Go skills she is, and I depart.
There is this little area around the local Humane Society that is a good spot to hit for Pokémon Go. There are three gyms and six PokéStops within a short walk/drive. I figure I’m just going to spin each of these and I’ll be good for the night. I pull up to the gym right in front of the Humane Society, park the car, dim my lights and spin the gym with both of my Pokémon Go accounts (yes, I have two accounts). The nice thing about this area for Pokémon Go is it’s off of the street. It’s just little dirt road with very little traffic.
After I spin the gym, I turn my lights back on and drive a short distance to the first PokéStop. Further up ahead, I see two or three vehicles parked haphazardly in the parking area by the Boy Scout office. I think this may be another group of people out playing Pokémon Go and don’t give it a second thought. Again, I park the car, dim the lights and pull out my phones to spin the PokéStop when I notice a dark figure with a flashlight quickly approaching my car.
‘Oh crap,’ I think as I prepare to be robbed or murdered or something. I set the phones back on my passenger seat and ready myself to get the hell out of there when I realize the approaching figure is a cop. Relieved, I roll down my window.
“Hello,” I smile as I am figuring out how to explain I’m playing Pokémon Go without sounding like a complete dweeb.
“Where are you coming from!” demands the obviously agitated cop.
His question completely catches me off guard. Where am I coming from? I know he’s looking for a particular answer, but I don’t really understand the question.
Just follow the instructions…
“I don’t understand the question,” I meekly whisper.
“I ASKED YOU A QUESTION,” the cop screams at me as I’m pretty sure he is trying to make my head explode with the intensity of his gaze. And I’m pretty sure he has one hand on his sidearm.
No shit, Sherlock! I think I obviously acknowledged the fact that you asked a freaking question with my response of “I don’t understand the question.” Can you pull your head out of your ass for two seconds and ask a question that someone who isn’t guilty of whatever crime your investigating here would be able to understand and answer.
That’s what I wanted to say. Oh, I was actually starting to shake with the desire to launch this little gem back into the cop’s face (well, the desire coupled with the intensifying fear that I could die), but I could tell that he was triggered. A triggered cop is something to be feared, even if you are a middle-aged white guy.
“My house?” Just like that, a question, because it was true, but I knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but he wouldn’t tell me what he was looking for and he was triggered and already pissed at me for questioning his question-asking ability (which sucked, by the way).
Even more intensely, he asks, “DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING IN YOUR CAR?”
Dear everything sweet and holy… if you are going to keep asking questions like this that I can’t answer, you might as well just shoot me now. I’m in my car. My keys? I have my licence, registration and proof of insurance; is that what you’re looking for? Yes, I have things in my car, but I don’t have illegal things in my car. I don’t understand the question!
Of course, none of that emerged from my lips. But I honestly had no idea how to answer the question. And I obviously couldn’t tell the cop that I didn’t understand his question again, because that didn’t go over so well the first time. And I can tell he is obviously fishing for something, and he’s trying to hook me, but I don’t even know where the freaking hook is. I feel like I need to find the hook as soon as possible or triggered T.J. Hooker may have me face down in gravel (or worse) in a matter of seconds.
“I… uh… wha… buuu…” I can think of nothing to say. I’m literally speechless, and it is scaring the shit out of me. JUST SAY SOMETHING!
But I can’t…
Obviously very upset that his intense gaze had yet to send my skull and brains flying throughout my car, the cop yells, “A LASER POINTER?”
The suffocating fog that had completely stupefied me began to lift. I began to understand…
“No,” I said as the cop shined his flashlight throughout my car.
I grabbed the two phones from my passenger seat that still had the game on their screens, held them out to him like some kind of magical shield, and muttered, “I’m playing Pokémon Go.”
The cop rolled his eyes and stormed off somewhere behind me. Shaking more violently than I can ever remember, I spun the PokéStop with both accounts. I glanced up at the cars in the Boy Scout Office parking lot.
Cop cars, every one.
I turned my phones off, set them in the passenger seat, and drove home feeling neither protected nor served.
I don’t know exactly at what point in our history as a country our police forces changed, but they have changed. “Protect and Serve” seems to have been replaced with “Interrogate and Intimidate.” I guess if there is a chance that any person you approach could potentially have a gun and the intention of killing you, “protect and serve” kind of flies out the window. And I know that there is a large percentage of our population which is willing to put up with a more militarized-style of police force in order to protect their right to own a gun. Personally, I don’t want my tax money going toward the wages of someone who makes me (or anyone) feel threatened when absolutely nothing wrong has been done.
Just follow the instructions…
But, sometimes the instructions aren’t clear…
But if you don’t understand the instructions, you can’t ask for clarification…
I’m sure there are a significant number or people who disagree with my thoughts on this subject, but I really don’t care. I want a police force that has my back when I am obeying the law and is out to get me when I’m breaking the law. The methods they use to discern which category I fit into shouldn’t make me despise them when I’ve done nothing wrong.