My Career as a White Police Officer
We often hear that all black families have “the talk” with their children — especially boys — to explain that any white officer is looking for any excuse to kill them, so they must always cooperate and be polite. If there is a “talk,” it must be a mother telling her children (fathers are almost never around) that they don’t have to do anything the police say or follow any of our directions, that they should talk back to us and be as hostile as possible. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of black suspects who have been “meek, calm, and cooperative.” From the beginning of my career in the early 1990s to today, any time I have dealt with a black suspect, he or she has been confrontational, invariably complaining of “racism” or “profiling.”
Even victims are hostile. Either they are angry that we have not immediately caught their attacker, or they refuse to cooperate. I have stood over black or Hispanic shooting victims, moaning in pain, as paramedics work on them, asking basic questions: Who did this to you? Who were you with? Where were you? The answer was almost always, “I dunno” or a shrug of the shoulders. They wanted to “handle the problem” on their own with street justice, and they saw any type of cooperation with the police as a sign of weakness. I took many attempted murder reports for which there was absolutely no suspect information or leads to follow up on — because the victim or witnesses refused to give us any.
The media are constantly on the lookout for any story that can be spun into victimization of blacks, so I make a point of warning command staff after virtually any contact with blacks. Anything can blow up into a big news story, and if the department is called upon for a comment, it has to know the basics of what happened. All this means officers are reluctant to get involved with blacks.
There were many Hispanics in the area where I was first hired, and their most common crimes were domestic violence, drug sales, and robbery. Nearly all the gangs in our city were Hispanic, and they claimed specific territories.
Hispanics would prey upon any race of people for robberies, burglaries, thefts or other crimes for material gain — usually to buy drugs. As for violence, they mostly attacked other Hispanics, since shootings and stabbings were usually either gang or — strange as it may seem — family related. During our pre-shift briefings, when our sergeant told us he had received intel that there would be a quinceanera party that evening, the shift would let out a collective groan.
A quinceanera is a celebration of a girl’s 15th birthday, and most Hispanics throw the most lavish party they can afford. Almost without exception, it would culminate in a stabbing, shooting, or large brawl, for which there were only two causes: a distant uncle would drink too many Budweisers (the beer they drank almost exclusively) and would “disrespect” another family member. The other cause was when the Hispanic gang of the area tried to crash the party, and the family tried to keep it out — which would mean a fight and maybe some stabbing and shooting. One of those two outcomes was almost inevitable.
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A quinceañera before the trouble starts.
It was very rare for Hispanics to commit “random” violent attacks on whites, old people, or women of the kind so frequent among blacks. There was a lot of domestic violence, but Hispanic women never called police on their spouse/boyfriend; if we were called, it was always by someone else. The main concern for the woman was that the sole breadwinner of the household might be arrested. A huge majority of the Hispanics were illegal immigrants and feared deportation above all else. I have seen frightened, horribly beaten women sitting on a couch, staring silently into space as I interviewed them through an interpreter; they refused to cooperate. There were always children wandering around the house who must have seen their mother being beaten. I often wondered how many beatings the woman had suffered without the police being called.
I also dealt with many white criminals, mostly for property crimes, methamphetamine (possession and intoxication), and the occasional violent crime. Whites did not commit the shocking and abhorrent crimes common among blacks, whose preferred activities seemed to be takeover robberies committed by organized groups, violent assaults on the elderly, rape, carjacking, and shootings. I was always struck by the incomprehensible, gratuitous nature of their violence. I have no recollection of any memorable or shocking Asian crimes during my time with this agency.
In my nearly 30 years of police experience, I have never treated a suspect differently because of race. Today’s anti-police hysteria would have you believe that police start and end their shifts hunting for black people to stop, but the reality of police work is simple. We have radios and computers in our cars that dispatch us. We don’t just appear where black people happen to be. We are sent there. We don’t control who commits crime. We don’t control the victims or witnesses who call 911. We stop, investigate, and arrest blacks disproportionately because of one indisputable fact: Blacks commit more crime.
If the radio or computer in our car tells us a green Martian wearing a silver spacesuit just committed an armed robbery, we go to the location and look for a green Martian wearing a silver space suit. If the radio or the computer tells us that a black man just shot several people, we flood the area and look for — you guessed it, a black man. George Floyd, Michael Brown, Rayshard Brooks et. al. weren’t randomly chosen. In every incident, they were committing crimes that had been called in by victims or witnesses. The fact that they chose not to cooperate or to attack the police was entirely their choice.
Our job is to enforce the law. If a suspect resists, we are allowed to use force. Each of those black men would be alive today if he had followed lawful commands and had submitted to lawful arrest. There is no disputing that fact. Police officers want to arrest dangerous criminals to protect their community, and we will go wherever that call for service takes us.
Unfortunately, the city where I now work is destroying itself in the name of “diversity.” As the federal government foists hundreds, if not thousands of African refugees upon our town, crimes that were unheard of are becoming common: children stabbed to death, gun crime, and murder for hire. I now see sub-Saharan Africans walking down Main Street with 40-pound bags of rice on their heads. People from Third-World countries full of squalor and corruption come to our city and demand special treatment while contributing nothing. No politician can complain without committing career suicide. I am now in a supervisory position and can say, without hesitation, that every major crime here involves a black person. The most dangerous service call of each shift for the last several months has involved a black man with a gun or large mobs of violent blacks.
As the “defund the police” movement gains momentum, police officers are leaving the profession in droves. My agency is no exception. Soon, very few people, if any, will apply for this job. In order to fill vacancies, agencies will have to eliminate written tests, lower hiring standards, and look the other way on questionable backgrounds. This has all been tried before in the name of “diversity,” and led to incompetent, untrustworthy, corrupt officers. This is a disaster for any society.
White people are too frightened to talk about the rampant black crime that is documented every day. Whites have become the “silenced majority,” in order to protect their livelihood and to avoid being called the word against which there is no defense: “racist.” This police department is full of men and women who can tell city council exactly what happens when a city submits to the corrosive grip of the black hand. Will they listen before it’s too late?
