Showing posts with label police. Show all posts
Showing posts with label police. Show all posts
Saturday, March 13, 2021
Breonna Taylor, One Year On
It's one year today Breonna Taylor lost her life.
The whole idea that an American citizen, a hard-working, smart, honest ER Technician and former EMT, no less, could be in her own home, at night, around midnight, only to have her front door knocked down and then be shot by police, dead, with 6 shots.
Un-freaking-believable.
#JusticeForBreonnaTaylor
Monday, March 23, 2020
Songs for a Pandemic
Herewith, some rather timely, I think, entertainment. Because we need it.
Be safe out there, campers. Try to enjoy. Something.
Be good to one another.
Friday, November 9, 2018
The KCPD Is Hurting Itself This Week. Big Time
Man drives car into stopped cars.
Innocent teen killed. 17 years old.
Also critically injuring his father and sister.
Car destroyed. 2 other cars also damaged.
Weather, dry. Road, clear.
No ticket issued.
17 days ago.
You and me?
We’d have been ticketed. On the spot. At the very least.
The difference?
He’s a police officer.
He was off-duty.
From the article:
“Although multiple witnesses and other drivers gave statements to police that were reflected in the crash report, the off-duty officer driving the van did not.
He still had not given a statement to investigators two days later, when Police Chief Rick Smith said he had ‘no idea’ what caused the wreck”
How many things are wrong with this?
“Investigators reported that the off-duty officer showed no evidence of alcohol use.”
Was the officer tested, on the scene or shortly thereafter, for alcohol use? Was he given a breathalyzer? The articles make no mention of it.
Does this not look like the police trying to protect “one of their own”, laws and justice and even common sense, be damned?
If it’s not, explain to us all why it’s not, please.
“Until Thursday,…” (yesterday, Nov 8) “…the Police Department had not released a standard police report from the wreck, even though Missouri law requires it.”
“As in all open investigations where possibility exists for a person to face charges, the identity of that person (is) to be withheld,” Colón said. “We respect the legal process and will honor it by not releasing the officer’s identity until which time is allowable.”
“…respect the legal process…”? Really? See above.
Since the wreck, Chandan’s father and sister have remained hospitalized.
His father Krishna Rajanna, 81, remained in the intensive care unit at Truman Medical Center.
Krishna Rajanna suffered multiple internal injuries in the wreck, including severe arm, rib and leg fractures.
Chandan’s sister Lisa Allen suffered a brain injury and was recently moved to a rehabilitation hospital in Lincoln, Neb.
Justice much?
By contrast and comparison, check out what happens to someone who isn’t a police officer. This posted yesterday.
Found 2 days later, he’s been arrested and charged.
But he's a regular schlub like you and me.
Go figure.
Monday, July 2, 2018
Area Police Do It Again
Last week, police shot and killed a woman who had an ornamental sword in North Kansas City.
Police shooting in Kansas City: Woman with sword shot
Yesterday, Grandview police do the same--shot and killed a man with two ornamental swords. A 49 year old man. His family had called because he was acting erratically. This is what they got for their phone call and concern.
To protect and serve.
Indeed.
Sunday, September 24, 2017
In Case You Don't Get or Agree With the Silent NFL Protests
One picture. One example.
Links:
Former NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue: Trump’s comments are ‘insulting and disgraceful’
Here's two teams, anyway, that aren't "taking a knee" during the National Anthem:
Friday, April 28, 2017
Monday, July 18, 2016
Harvard Study On Guns V
5. More guns = more homicides of police
This article examines homicide rates of Law Enforcement Officers (LEOs) from 1996 to 2010. Differences in rates of homicides of LEOs across states are best explained not by differences in crime, but by differences in household gun ownership. In high gun states, LEOs are 3 times more likely to be murdered than LEOs working in low-gun states.
This article was cited by President Obama in a speech to a police association. This article will hopefully bring police further into the camp of those pushing for sensible gun laws.
Swedler DI, Simmons MM, Dominici F, Hemenway D. Firearm prevalence and homicides of law enforcement officers in the United States. American Journal of Public Health. 2015; 105:2042-48.
Link:
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Breaking: Baton Rouge Shooter From Kansas City
Here's some sick, unfortunate news on top of the ugliness and tragedy and stupidity of the shooting of the police officers in Baton Rouge today.
The shooter? Reported to be a Kansas City, Missouri resident.
Baton Rouge shooter was from Kansas City
Dammit.
Thursday, July 7, 2016
What's Wrong With These Pictures?
And in the case last evening, in Minnesota, Philando Castile was legal, legally carrying a weapon, cooperating with the police and was still shot and killed, in his own car, in front of his girl friend, in front of his daughter, shot four times, and all because of suspicion only of a very minor traffic violation.
Dead.
Sixteen Examples of What's Wrong
Go to this New York Times page and watch all 16 videos. See if you don't think something is wrong and that we need change, we need justice, for all, in our nation. Sixteen times an American was shot down and killed--or strangled, in the case of Eric Garner--without being arrested, charged and tried.
The Videos That Are Putting Race
and Policing Into Sharp Relief
"Qui tacet consentit":
"Silence gives consent".
Yes, unequivocally, police have a tough job, no doubt about it. I'm the first to admit it.
But they, we, can't react only and immediately with guns, with shooting, first, any and every time they fear. We can't be tried and condemned, both, right on our streets, immediately.
They can't live like that.
Clearly, we Americans can't live like that.
Last Night's Killing
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
What White People Don't Get (Guest Post)
I saw this last evening on Facebook and thought it important to post.
Steve M Williams
December 5, 2015 · Clovis, CA
This put me damn near in tears; read this encounter with police that professor Steve Locke went through, and it will explain everything you need to know about being black in 21st century America. If you don't get it from this then really, I'm wasting my time trying to explain it.
This is what I wore to work today.
On my way to get a burrito before work, I was detained by the police.
I noticed the police car in the public lot behind Centre Street. As I was walking away from my car, the cruiser followed me. I walked down Centre Street and was about to cross over to the burrito place and the officer got out of the car.
“Hey my man,” he said.
He unsnapped the holster of his gun.
I took my hands out of my pockets.
“Yes?” I said.
“Where you coming from?”
“Home.”
Where’s home?”
“Dedham.”
How’d you get here?”
“I drove.”
He was next to me now. Two other police cars pulled up. I was standing in from of the bank across the street from the burrito place. I was going to get lunch before I taught my 1:30 class. There were cops all around me.
I said nothing. I looked at the officer who addressed me. He was white, stocky, bearded.
“You weren’t over there, were you?” He pointed down Centre Street toward Hyde Square.
“No. I came from Dedham.”
“What’s your address?”
I told him.
“We had someone matching your description just try to break into a woman’s house.”
A second police officer stood next to me; white, tall, bearded. Two police cruisers passed and would continue to circle the block for the 35 minutes I was standing across the street from the burrito place.
“You fit the description,” the officer said. “Black male, knit hat, puffy coat. Do you have identification.”
“It’s in my wallet. May I reach into my pocket and get my wallet?”
“Yeah.”
I handed him my license. I told him it did not have my current address. He walked over to a police car. The other cop, taller, wearing sunglasses, told me that I fit the description of someone who broke into a woman’s house. Right down to the knit cap.
Barbara Sullivan made a knit cap for me. She knitted it in pinks and browns and blues and oranges and lime green. No one has a hat like this. It doesn’t fit any description that anyone would have. I looked at the second cop. I clasped my hands in front of me to stop them from shaking.
“For the record,” I said to the second cop, “I’m not a criminal. I’m a college professor.” I was wearing my faculty ID around my neck, clearly visible with my photo.
“You fit the description so we just have to check it out.” The first cop returned and handed me my license.
“We have the victim and we need her to take a look at you to see if you are the person.”
It was at this moment that I knew that I was probably going to die. I am not being dramatic when I say this. I was not going to get into a police car. I was not going to present myself to some victim. I was not going let someone tell the cops that I was not guilty when I already told them that I had nothing to do with any robbery. I was not going to let them take me anywhere because if they did, the chance I was going to be accused of something I did not do rose exponentially. I knew this in my heart. I was not going anywhere with these cops and I was not going to let some white woman decide whether or not I was a criminal, especially after I told them that I was not a criminal. This meant that
I was going to resist arrest. This meant that I was not going to let the police put their hands on me.
If you are wondering why people don’t go with the police, I hope this explains it for you.
Something weird happens when you are on the street being detained by the police. People look at you like you are a criminal. The police are detaining you so clearly you must have done something, otherwise they wouldn’t have you. No one made eye contact with me. I was hoping that someone I knew would walk down the street or come out of one of the shops or get off the 39 bus or come out of JP Licks and say to these cops, “That’s Steve Locke. What the FUCK are you detaining him for?”
The cops decided that they would bring the victim to come view me on the street. The asked me to wait. I said nothing. I stood still.
“Thanks for cooperating,” the second cop said. “This is probably nothing, but it’s our job and you do fit the description. 5′ 11″, black male. One-hundred-and-sixty pounds, but you’re a little more than that. Knit hat.”
A little more than 160. Thanks for that, I thought.
An older white woman walked behind me and up to the second cop. She turned and looked at me and then back at him. “You guys sure are busy today.”
I noticed a black woman further down the block. She was small and concerned. She was watching what was going on. I focused on her red coat. I slowed my breathing. I looked at her from time to time.
I thought: Don’t leave, sister. Please don’t leave.
The first cop said, “Where do you teach?”
“Massachusetts College of Art and Design.” I tugged at the lanyard that had my ID.
“How long you been teaching there?”
“Thirteen years.”
We stood in silence for about 10 more minutes.
An unmarked police car pulled up. The first cop went over to talk to the driver. The driver kept looking at me as the cop spoke to him. I looked directly at the driver. He got out of the car.
“I’m Detective Cardoza. I appreciate your cooperation.”
I said nothing.
“I’m sure these officers told you what is going on?”
“They did.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“From my home in Dedham.”
“How did you get here?”
“I drove.”
“Where is your car?”
“It’s in the lot behind Bukhara.” I pointed up Centre Street.
“Okay,” the detective said. “We’re going to let you go. Do you have a car key you can show me?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out my car key.”
“Okay.”
I showed him the key to my car.
The cops thanked me for my cooperation. I nodded and turned to go.
“Sorry for screwing up your lunch break,” the second cop said.
I walked back toward my car, away from the burrito place. I saw the woman in red.
“Thank you,” I said to her. “Thank you for staying.”
“Are you ok?” She said. Her small beautiful face was lined with concern.
“Not really. I’m really shook up. And I have to get to work.”
“I knew something was wrong. I was watching the whole thing. The way they are treating us now, you have to watch them. ”
“I’m so grateful you were there. I kept thinking to myself, ‘Don’t leave, sister.’ May I give you a hug?”
“Yes,” she said. She held me as I shook. “Are you sure you are ok?”
“No I’m not. I’m going to have a good cry in my car. I have to go teach.”
“You’re at MassArt. My friend is at MassArt.”
“What’s your name?” She told me. I realized we were Facebook friends. I told her this.
“I’ll check in with you on Facebook,” she said.
I put my head down and walked to my car.
My colleague was in our shared office and she was able to calm me down. I had about 45 minutes until my class began and I had to teach. I forgot the lesson I had planned. I forget the schedule. I couldn’t think about how to do my job. I thought about the fact my word counted for nothing, they didn’t believe that I wasn’t a criminal. They had to find out. My word was not enough for them. My ID was not enough for them. My handmade one-of-a-kind knit hat was an object of suspicion. My Ralph Lauren quilted blazer was only a “puffy coat.” That white woman could just walk up to a cop and talk about me like I was an object for regard. I wanted to go back and spit in their faces. The cops were probably deeply satisfied with how they handled the interaction, how they didn’t escalate the situation, how they were respectful and polite.
I imagined sitting in the back of a police car while a white woman decides if I am a criminal or not. If I looked guilty being detained by the cops imagine how vile I become sitting in a cruiser? I knew I could not let that happen to me. I knew if that were to happen, I would be dead.
Nothing I am, nothing I do, nothing I have means anything because I fit the description.
I had to confess to my students that I was a bit out of it today and I asked them to bear with me. I had to teach.
After class I was supposed to go to the openings for First Friday. I went home."
~Steve Locke
On my way to get a burrito before work, I was detained by the police.
I noticed the police car in the public lot behind Centre Street. As I was walking away from my car, the cruiser followed me. I walked down Centre Street and was about to cross over to the burrito place and the officer got out of the car.
“Hey my man,” he said.
He unsnapped the holster of his gun.
I took my hands out of my pockets.
“Yes?” I said.
“Where you coming from?”
“Home.”
Where’s home?”
“Dedham.”
How’d you get here?”
“I drove.”
He was next to me now. Two other police cars pulled up. I was standing in from of the bank across the street from the burrito place. I was going to get lunch before I taught my 1:30 class. There were cops all around me.
I said nothing. I looked at the officer who addressed me. He was white, stocky, bearded.
“You weren’t over there, were you?” He pointed down Centre Street toward Hyde Square.
“No. I came from Dedham.”
“What’s your address?”
I told him.
“We had someone matching your description just try to break into a woman’s house.”
A second police officer stood next to me; white, tall, bearded. Two police cruisers passed and would continue to circle the block for the 35 minutes I was standing across the street from the burrito place.
“You fit the description,” the officer said. “Black male, knit hat, puffy coat. Do you have identification.”
“It’s in my wallet. May I reach into my pocket and get my wallet?”
“Yeah.”
I handed him my license. I told him it did not have my current address. He walked over to a police car. The other cop, taller, wearing sunglasses, told me that I fit the description of someone who broke into a woman’s house. Right down to the knit cap.
Barbara Sullivan made a knit cap for me. She knitted it in pinks and browns and blues and oranges and lime green. No one has a hat like this. It doesn’t fit any description that anyone would have. I looked at the second cop. I clasped my hands in front of me to stop them from shaking.
“For the record,” I said to the second cop, “I’m not a criminal. I’m a college professor.” I was wearing my faculty ID around my neck, clearly visible with my photo.
“You fit the description so we just have to check it out.” The first cop returned and handed me my license.
“We have the victim and we need her to take a look at you to see if you are the person.”
It was at this moment that I knew that I was probably going to die. I am not being dramatic when I say this. I was not going to get into a police car. I was not going to present myself to some victim. I was not going let someone tell the cops that I was not guilty when I already told them that I had nothing to do with any robbery. I was not going to let them take me anywhere because if they did, the chance I was going to be accused of something I did not do rose exponentially. I knew this in my heart. I was not going anywhere with these cops and I was not going to let some white woman decide whether or not I was a criminal, especially after I told them that I was not a criminal. This meant that
I was going to resist arrest. This meant that I was not going to let the police put their hands on me.
If you are wondering why people don’t go with the police, I hope this explains it for you.
Something weird happens when you are on the street being detained by the police. People look at you like you are a criminal. The police are detaining you so clearly you must have done something, otherwise they wouldn’t have you. No one made eye contact with me. I was hoping that someone I knew would walk down the street or come out of one of the shops or get off the 39 bus or come out of JP Licks and say to these cops, “That’s Steve Locke. What the FUCK are you detaining him for?”
The cops decided that they would bring the victim to come view me on the street. The asked me to wait. I said nothing. I stood still.
“Thanks for cooperating,” the second cop said. “This is probably nothing, but it’s our job and you do fit the description. 5′ 11″, black male. One-hundred-and-sixty pounds, but you’re a little more than that. Knit hat.”
A little more than 160. Thanks for that, I thought.
An older white woman walked behind me and up to the second cop. She turned and looked at me and then back at him. “You guys sure are busy today.”
I noticed a black woman further down the block. She was small and concerned. She was watching what was going on. I focused on her red coat. I slowed my breathing. I looked at her from time to time.
I thought: Don’t leave, sister. Please don’t leave.
The first cop said, “Where do you teach?”
“Massachusetts College of Art and Design.” I tugged at the lanyard that had my ID.
“How long you been teaching there?”
“Thirteen years.”
We stood in silence for about 10 more minutes.
An unmarked police car pulled up. The first cop went over to talk to the driver. The driver kept looking at me as the cop spoke to him. I looked directly at the driver. He got out of the car.
“I’m Detective Cardoza. I appreciate your cooperation.”
I said nothing.
“I’m sure these officers told you what is going on?”
“They did.”
“Where are you coming from?”
“From my home in Dedham.”
“How did you get here?”
“I drove.”
“Where is your car?”
“It’s in the lot behind Bukhara.” I pointed up Centre Street.
“Okay,” the detective said. “We’re going to let you go. Do you have a car key you can show me?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out my car key.”
“Okay.”
I showed him the key to my car.
The cops thanked me for my cooperation. I nodded and turned to go.
“Sorry for screwing up your lunch break,” the second cop said.
I walked back toward my car, away from the burrito place. I saw the woman in red.
“Thank you,” I said to her. “Thank you for staying.”
“Are you ok?” She said. Her small beautiful face was lined with concern.
“Not really. I’m really shook up. And I have to get to work.”
“I knew something was wrong. I was watching the whole thing. The way they are treating us now, you have to watch them. ”
“I’m so grateful you were there. I kept thinking to myself, ‘Don’t leave, sister.’ May I give you a hug?”
“Yes,” she said. She held me as I shook. “Are you sure you are ok?”
“No I’m not. I’m going to have a good cry in my car. I have to go teach.”
“You’re at MassArt. My friend is at MassArt.”
“What’s your name?” She told me. I realized we were Facebook friends. I told her this.
“I’ll check in with you on Facebook,” she said.
I put my head down and walked to my car.
My colleague was in our shared office and she was able to calm me down. I had about 45 minutes until my class began and I had to teach. I forgot the lesson I had planned. I forget the schedule. I couldn’t think about how to do my job. I thought about the fact my word counted for nothing, they didn’t believe that I wasn’t a criminal. They had to find out. My word was not enough for them. My ID was not enough for them. My handmade one-of-a-kind knit hat was an object of suspicion. My Ralph Lauren quilted blazer was only a “puffy coat.” That white woman could just walk up to a cop and talk about me like I was an object for regard. I wanted to go back and spit in their faces. The cops were probably deeply satisfied with how they handled the interaction, how they didn’t escalate the situation, how they were respectful and polite.
I imagined sitting in the back of a police car while a white woman decides if I am a criminal or not. If I looked guilty being detained by the cops imagine how vile I become sitting in a cruiser? I knew I could not let that happen to me. I knew if that were to happen, I would be dead.
Nothing I am, nothing I do, nothing I have means anything because I fit the description.
I had to confess to my students that I was a bit out of it today and I asked them to bear with me. I had to teach.
After class I was supposed to go to the openings for First Friday. I went home."
~Steve Locke
Saturday, December 26, 2015
Kansas City Makes an Ugly List
I found this floating around on Facebook today. I was stunned. Definitely a horrible list to be on, if true. And frankly, I assume it is.
Wednesday, July 22, 2015
On Sandra Bland's Treatment and Now Death
Regarding Sandra Bland, the American who was pulled over in Texas recently for a minor traffic violation and then horribly handled by first one, then two police officers, then detained and arrested, held for 3 days in jail and now dead, reputedly at her own hand, if you haven't seen the video, watch this first.
Any American not outraged by this event isn't aware of what happened or assume she's wrong because she's black or because they think that, no matter what a police officer tells you to do--like not smoke in your own car---has to be followed. There's no way she should have been detained, let alone arrested.
What's additionally outrageous is that Ms. Bland knew her rights and he violated them---her rights--and her and all because he seems to clearly have a chip on his shoulder, so to speak, and because he wanted her to get out of the car because she was smoking in her own car. His work was done but he wouldn't leave her alone.
And then, that they kept her in jail for 3 days? Really?
I'm angry her rights were violated at the arrest and then, making matters far worse, that she's dead. It's outrageous. She was an innocent American and she's now dead and for no reason whatever. This officer and that police force not only didn't do their duties properly but did them wrong, horribly, tragically wrong. They certainly didn't "protect and serve." Far from it. The opposite, in fact.
I say again, this is outrageous.
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Monday, February 2, 2015
Jefferson City Republicans not Legislating for the People
Well, there they go again.
The Republicans down in Jefferson City were at work today and look what they came up with:
It seems we maybe were getting closer to our local police departments being more and more held accountable for what they do on the job but lo and behold, the "small government" Republicans want to jump in and protect the police, not the people.
The police are going to start getting cameras on themselves, likely, filming their day at work, and these people want to keep any results of that video away from the people.
Once again, does this make any sense at all?
If the officers have cameras on and they are on and running, but you can't see the video, was it ever really there?
Missourians and Americans would simply like to know our police are doing a good job and being fair and, yes, following the law. Is that too much to ask? That's all this was or is for. We'd just like them to be lawful and fair and accountable.
The Republicans want nothing of that for us, clearly.
Link--here's an example of what we'd like to avoid:
Body Camera Footage Captures Fatal Shooting By Police
Video here:
Sunday, February 1, 2015
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