...About that girl whom the cops pulled off the train because she had her foot on a seat, and would not listen to the cop's orders.
As a former regular-rider of the Red Line, I'd never really known that it was an actual policy/rule to not put your foot up on the the chair.
I do think anyone who puts their foot on a chair to prevent others from sitting, does so in poor taste. I thought it was just a rule of thumb.
But I guess nowadays, it's a publicly posted policy, subject to enforcement.
But man, getting dragged off the train for that?
Significant Other wondered, "why couldn't they just give her a ticket for that?" So, yes, why could not they just give her a ticket for that?
Showing posts with label Law Enforcement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Law Enforcement. Show all posts
Delineating 'Predatory Policing'
I'm continuing my thoughts from this post.
This morning at around 9:15 AM, after the rush hour has come and gone, I was driving back to my house in Compton along Central Ave.
I'm driving about the speed limit.
And right on cue, in my back mirror, an LASD sheriff's black and white is tracking behind me.
My heart sinks. My eyes zip right over to the speedometer, meticulously making sure that I'm driving 40.
About 10 seconds elapse, I check to see if the black and white is gone. Nope still there, behind my relatively slow drive, as I cross 120th and Central.
Finally, I breathe an air of relief when the LASD black and white switches lanes around 135th and Central.
Predatory policing: when the police make it seem as if they're out to get you, as if they're waiting for you to do something wrong. That's in opposition to what I think police should do as peacekeepers; responding to problems.
An incident of predatory policing actually happened to my wife two years ago in the City of Carson. She got the most frivolous ticket ever. She once got a ticket from an LASD sheriff for bringing her dog to the park.
The City of Carson actually has written into code that you can't bring dogs...to...a...park. Yes, you read that write, you...CANNOT...bring...dogs...to...a...park. No dogs at a park within City of Carson maintained facilities.
The signage wasn't all that visible in the parking lot nor elsewhere in the park. There was even two separate people who brought even bigger dogs immediately after her run-in with this sheriff.
Luckily, when I tried to bring this ticket to City Hall in Compton to pay for it, or take it in to see what would happen, the ticket was not in the system, and the clerk herself was confused about why exactly we got the ticket.
This morning at around 9:15 AM, after the rush hour has come and gone, I was driving back to my house in Compton along Central Ave.
I'm driving about the speed limit.
And right on cue, in my back mirror, an LASD sheriff's black and white is tracking behind me.
My heart sinks. My eyes zip right over to the speedometer, meticulously making sure that I'm driving 40.
About 10 seconds elapse, I check to see if the black and white is gone. Nope still there, behind my relatively slow drive, as I cross 120th and Central.
Finally, I breathe an air of relief when the LASD black and white switches lanes around 135th and Central.
Predatory policing: when the police make it seem as if they're out to get you, as if they're waiting for you to do something wrong. That's in opposition to what I think police should do as peacekeepers; responding to problems.
An incident of predatory policing actually happened to my wife two years ago in the City of Carson. She got the most frivolous ticket ever. She once got a ticket from an LASD sheriff for bringing her dog to the park.
The City of Carson actually has written into code that you can't bring dogs...to...a...park. Yes, you read that write, you...CANNOT...bring...dogs...to...a...park. No dogs at a park within City of Carson maintained facilities.
The signage wasn't all that visible in the parking lot nor elsewhere in the park. There was even two separate people who brought even bigger dogs immediately after her run-in with this sheriff.
Luckily, when I tried to bring this ticket to City Hall in Compton to pay for it, or take it in to see what would happen, the ticket was not in the system, and the clerk herself was confused about why exactly we got the ticket.
Anatomy of a Cold War with My Right-Hand Neighbor, Bernardo, in Compton
Lately, I haven't felt that connected with my neighbors. In fact, towards one of them, I harbor animosity.
What for?
Why would I be harboring animosity towards another fellow neighbor here in Compton?
Is it because of their vandalism?
Is it because I suspect that they're stealing?
Is it because of the loud music?
Is it because of the people that suspiciously hang around and bring trouble?
No, it's none of that.
It's because...
...of...
parking.
I know, my rational mind says it's a really stupid thing to get mad about considering that the street has probably seen much more serious problems and that is probably a lurking problem for everyone, but, it's been enough of an issue that our neighbors do various little things to hold onto their parking spots.
I think the previous owner of our house had even hinted at problems with parking and the right-hand neighbor. She hinted that "some people just need to be more educated..."
Whatever that meant.
Our street is really small. There are only 16 single-family houses on our block with only one side of the street available for parking with 1 apartment complex with 4 housing units available.
There are only 17 available full parking spaces on our block, which means that if every single family has two cars, they're going to put one car in the garage, and one outside. There are 4 half-spaces which usually means one car parking alongside a piece of sidewalk that is not quite big enough for a parking space but is used by a resident anyway, so in reality, there are 21 spaces.
For the record my wife and I have two compact Toyota cars and we have 1 full parking space in front of our house.
Parking in general on the street is never a problem during ordinary weekday mornings when everyone is out to work. But I know that if I get home past 6, I'll be lucky to get any spot within the block.
That sometimes leaves me with 3 bags, and 30 lbs to haul about a quarter mile to my house. It's annoying.
The Beginning of the Situation with the Neighbor
I have little problems with the left-hand neighbor.
Our next door neighbor to the left is a multi-generational family with 3 generations under the roof. They've lived in the house next to us for close to 30 years. They have only three cars, 2 of which they keep in a garage/driveway --- some kind of SUV, a Toyota Avalon, and a Honda Accord, the only car that they keep outside.
I talk occasionally with someone from that house who is about my wife and I's age. He was the guy who was talking to me a little bit about what the neighborhood used to be like.
He has his grandma or mom, Beatrice, that I "used to" like and "used to" ask about my son. She had been somewhat generous to us, even offering him a little gift.
More on why I "used to like" and "used to" ask about my son later.
She knows everyone on the block; a lot of the houses are occupied by her relatives. Our right-hand neighbor is not their relative.
We used to speak to our right-hand neighbor quite often, or at least when we saw them. Or at least we spoke to someone from the right-hand neighbor's side. I would try to say hi every time I saw them; same thing with my wife.
Our right-hand neighbors appear to have at least 3 families in sections of the house as well as a backhouse. But the main person I interacted with was a family of 4 was a man whom I will refer to as Bernardo. Bernardo heads an immigrant family from Mexico, about my folks' age. They with an American-born child in his 20s and a teenager. They are grandparents whose grandkids occasionally come and visit on Holidays.
With at least 3 different families, the household has a total of 7 cars. Bernardo owns 4 of them, including a Dodge Ram that is never really used and sits in the driveway, a Dodge Durango which isn't used and last I saw was up for sale, a Mitsubishi Land Rover which acts as their utility car, and now a Dodge Truck with utility racks. A lot of big cars, 2 of which are functionally non-operated.
The other families have a Honda Accord, a Nissan pick-up truck, and a white hatchback.
What caused the cessation of our speaking?
This past summer, the city of Compton and/or the Sheriff's Department decided that it would be a good idea to outlaw parking on the other side of the street by posting "No Parking" signs, dramatically reducing the number of parking spaces available from the possible 30+ to the current 17.
For our seven-car friends to the right, that meant parking their largely non-operated Dodge Durango for 7 days at a time in front of our house until the next street cleaning came.
They did this for about 4 months, and it meant that I'd never get parking in front of my house; meaning I would have to haul 30 lbs of equipment and 3 bags to the car, sometimes with a baby in hand. During that period, it's not that I was bothered so much by not always getting the parking in front of my house; it's that I rarely got the opportunity while this asshole left it there for a week, every week.
This meant that this house, no bigger than our house, with quadruple the number of residents would take up not only their driveway, the parking space in front of their house, our house, and a couple of other houses. Meanwhile, I'd be lucky if there was a parking space.
The city's official policy is that a law enforcement agency can tow away a car after 72 hours of not moving which is in Chapter 12-4.4 of the municipal code.
The Sheriff's Department didn't do shit. I called up the direct line to their parking or transportation division. Though in fairness, I called at the wrong time; it was a Monday after street cleaning when they'd already moved the car.
They heard my whole story but ultimately said that they "didn't have the resources at the moment" to deal with the problem. They didn't offer any follow-up to resolving my problem.
They actually knew my street, and asked about another car on the street which I knew but had no problems with.
All I could do was get mad and yell in the privacy of my own house.
It didn't help that I would see other neighbors do things to preserve their spaces including putting garbage cans, or utility cones to save "their" spot. Or using their car to take two spaces.
It didn't help that there was also a few lingering annoyances committed by other neighbors including blocking our driveway or neighborhood kids leaning on my car.
The only way I could extract revenge: parking in the space in front of Bernardo's house, or in my driveway in a way to prevent their Land Rover from opening.
Today
It doesn't help that the overall parking situation on the block remains the same.
But now, I'm liking the left-hand neighbor's mom or grandma a little less than I once did.
Bernardo recently added a different car that changed the parking dynamics: a Dodge pickup with mounts. This means that he has been trying to sell the Durango, which as of yet, is still to no avail.
Bernardo doesn't park his Durango in front of our house anymore, which would have been welcome news 3 months ago. He does not occupy the space for a week at a time.
However, he will park there aggressively, claiming the space immediately after street cleaning when the official hours are not even over yet. Bernardo and his residents' cars still take up multiple spaces in front of our and other people's houses.
I want to get over all this, but at the moment I'm kind of annoyed at what appears to be gossip.
As I mentioned, I do sometimes park in front of their house. It makes things convenient for me.
One morning, I overheard Beatrice, our left-hand neighbor's grandma or mom, talking to Bernardo's wife.
They speak Spanish as their primary language, but I didn't like the tone, nor what appears to be the left-hand neighbor grandma's behavior towards me. I heard her say something about "calling the city," and "senor." It sounded like she was saying something about calling the city to make a parking space private. She'd had that conversation with us before, and probably has had it with her relatives.
Recently, Beatrice seems increasingly friendly with Bernardo's wife, and more curt with me. Additionally, it seems increasingly impossible to get parking in front of her other relatives' homes.
A defining moment happened last week during our street-cleaning day during the rain. I didn't have work on a Monday, and we had two cars --- one was already in the driveway. I had to move my other car for street cleaning.
The wind was blowing, but it wasn't raining. She was outside and asking me if it was our trash can they had taken. It was.
Cool.
She motioned to move back into her house.
Realizing I had to move the car soon, I asked if she could watch my son for a little bit. She responded, "no it's too cold." I showed her my son in the car seat, and she said "he's getting big," and vanished from sight.
I had to haul him back and forth about a quarter mile.
Adding salt to the wound, at 12 o clock, 1 hour before street cleaning hours are over, Bernardo swooped in for the parking space not only in front of our house, but at 12:05 came in with his Land Rover and swooped in for the parking space in front of his house.
What for?
Why would I be harboring animosity towards another fellow neighbor here in Compton?
Is it because of their vandalism?
Is it because I suspect that they're stealing?
Is it because of the loud music?
Is it because of the people that suspiciously hang around and bring trouble?
No, it's none of that.
It's because...
...of...
parking.
I know, my rational mind says it's a really stupid thing to get mad about considering that the street has probably seen much more serious problems and that is probably a lurking problem for everyone, but, it's been enough of an issue that our neighbors do various little things to hold onto their parking spots.
I think the previous owner of our house had even hinted at problems with parking and the right-hand neighbor. She hinted that "some people just need to be more educated..."
Whatever that meant.
Our street is really small. There are only 16 single-family houses on our block with only one side of the street available for parking with 1 apartment complex with 4 housing units available.
There are only 17 available full parking spaces on our block, which means that if every single family has two cars, they're going to put one car in the garage, and one outside. There are 4 half-spaces which usually means one car parking alongside a piece of sidewalk that is not quite big enough for a parking space but is used by a resident anyway, so in reality, there are 21 spaces.
For the record my wife and I have two compact Toyota cars and we have 1 full parking space in front of our house.
Parking in general on the street is never a problem during ordinary weekday mornings when everyone is out to work. But I know that if I get home past 6, I'll be lucky to get any spot within the block.
That sometimes leaves me with 3 bags, and 30 lbs to haul about a quarter mile to my house. It's annoying.
The Beginning of the Situation with the Neighbor
I have little problems with the left-hand neighbor.
Our next door neighbor to the left is a multi-generational family with 3 generations under the roof. They've lived in the house next to us for close to 30 years. They have only three cars, 2 of which they keep in a garage/driveway --- some kind of SUV, a Toyota Avalon, and a Honda Accord, the only car that they keep outside.
I talk occasionally with someone from that house who is about my wife and I's age. He was the guy who was talking to me a little bit about what the neighborhood used to be like.
He has his grandma or mom, Beatrice, that I "used to" like and "used to" ask about my son. She had been somewhat generous to us, even offering him a little gift.
More on why I "used to like" and "used to" ask about my son later.
She knows everyone on the block; a lot of the houses are occupied by her relatives. Our right-hand neighbor is not their relative.
We used to speak to our right-hand neighbor quite often, or at least when we saw them. Or at least we spoke to someone from the right-hand neighbor's side. I would try to say hi every time I saw them; same thing with my wife.
Our right-hand neighbors appear to have at least 3 families in sections of the house as well as a backhouse. But the main person I interacted with was a family of 4 was a man whom I will refer to as Bernardo. Bernardo heads an immigrant family from Mexico, about my folks' age. They with an American-born child in his 20s and a teenager. They are grandparents whose grandkids occasionally come and visit on Holidays.
With at least 3 different families, the household has a total of 7 cars. Bernardo owns 4 of them, including a Dodge Ram that is never really used and sits in the driveway, a Dodge Durango which isn't used and last I saw was up for sale, a Mitsubishi Land Rover which acts as their utility car, and now a Dodge Truck with utility racks. A lot of big cars, 2 of which are functionally non-operated.
The other families have a Honda Accord, a Nissan pick-up truck, and a white hatchback.
What caused the cessation of our speaking?
This past summer, the city of Compton and/or the Sheriff's Department decided that it would be a good idea to outlaw parking on the other side of the street by posting "No Parking" signs, dramatically reducing the number of parking spaces available from the possible 30+ to the current 17.
For our seven-car friends to the right, that meant parking their largely non-operated Dodge Durango for 7 days at a time in front of our house until the next street cleaning came.
They did this for about 4 months, and it meant that I'd never get parking in front of my house; meaning I would have to haul 30 lbs of equipment and 3 bags to the car, sometimes with a baby in hand. During that period, it's not that I was bothered so much by not always getting the parking in front of my house; it's that I rarely got the opportunity while this asshole left it there for a week, every week.
This meant that this house, no bigger than our house, with quadruple the number of residents would take up not only their driveway, the parking space in front of their house, our house, and a couple of other houses. Meanwhile, I'd be lucky if there was a parking space.
The city's official policy is that a law enforcement agency can tow away a car after 72 hours of not moving which is in Chapter 12-4.4 of the municipal code.
The Sheriff's Department didn't do shit. I called up the direct line to their parking or transportation division. Though in fairness, I called at the wrong time; it was a Monday after street cleaning when they'd already moved the car.
They heard my whole story but ultimately said that they "didn't have the resources at the moment" to deal with the problem. They didn't offer any follow-up to resolving my problem.
They actually knew my street, and asked about another car on the street which I knew but had no problems with.
All I could do was get mad and yell in the privacy of my own house.
It didn't help that I would see other neighbors do things to preserve their spaces including putting garbage cans, or utility cones to save "their" spot. Or using their car to take two spaces.
It didn't help that there was also a few lingering annoyances committed by other neighbors including blocking our driveway or neighborhood kids leaning on my car.
The only way I could extract revenge: parking in the space in front of Bernardo's house, or in my driveway in a way to prevent their Land Rover from opening.
Today
It doesn't help that the overall parking situation on the block remains the same.
But now, I'm liking the left-hand neighbor's mom or grandma a little less than I once did.
Bernardo recently added a different car that changed the parking dynamics: a Dodge pickup with mounts. This means that he has been trying to sell the Durango, which as of yet, is still to no avail.
Bernardo doesn't park his Durango in front of our house anymore, which would have been welcome news 3 months ago. He does not occupy the space for a week at a time.
However, he will park there aggressively, claiming the space immediately after street cleaning when the official hours are not even over yet. Bernardo and his residents' cars still take up multiple spaces in front of our and other people's houses.
I want to get over all this, but at the moment I'm kind of annoyed at what appears to be gossip.
As I mentioned, I do sometimes park in front of their house. It makes things convenient for me.
One morning, I overheard Beatrice, our left-hand neighbor's grandma or mom, talking to Bernardo's wife.
They speak Spanish as their primary language, but I didn't like the tone, nor what appears to be the left-hand neighbor grandma's behavior towards me. I heard her say something about "calling the city," and "senor." It sounded like she was saying something about calling the city to make a parking space private. She'd had that conversation with us before, and probably has had it with her relatives.
Recently, Beatrice seems increasingly friendly with Bernardo's wife, and more curt with me. Additionally, it seems increasingly impossible to get parking in front of her other relatives' homes.
A defining moment happened last week during our street-cleaning day during the rain. I didn't have work on a Monday, and we had two cars --- one was already in the driveway. I had to move my other car for street cleaning.
The wind was blowing, but it wasn't raining. She was outside and asking me if it was our trash can they had taken. It was.
Cool.
She motioned to move back into her house.
Realizing I had to move the car soon, I asked if she could watch my son for a little bit. She responded, "no it's too cold." I showed her my son in the car seat, and she said "he's getting big," and vanished from sight.
I had to haul him back and forth about a quarter mile.
Adding salt to the wound, at 12 o clock, 1 hour before street cleaning hours are over, Bernardo swooped in for the parking space not only in front of our house, but at 12:05 came in with his Land Rover and swooped in for the parking space in front of his house.
Police: Predators or Peacekeepers?
Right now in America, I think there are essentially two different views of police.
I don't mean to say that all people think either this way or that way, but they represent two polarized sides in a spectrum of thoughts.
There's the side of the spectrum that sees the police as predators.
There's the side of the spectrum that sees the police as peacekeepers.
So the battling views are: police as predators vs. police as peacekeepers.
I understand views on the spectrum, but usually because on the internet, I tend to find myself around people who unquestionably believe in the police as peacekeepers, I like to challenge what I think is the lack of a critical eye.
Some of my more radical friends like to think we could do without the police. I'm not quite there, but I understand that they do not like the history of law enforcement in this country, nor how normalized bad behavior has seemingly become.
Another reason I'm not with my more radical friends is because I'd like to think the culture of the institution of policing/law enforcement in America could become something better, divorcing from its history.
I think that "becoming better" would be possible if there were more of a focus on prioritizing education and mediation in all the local law enforcement agencies, especially those with majority white police officers presiding over largely populations of color.
That means, police approach you with the idea that you're a human being, and not as someone who's guilty simply for existing. And to be fair, for the most part as far as LAPD and LA County Sherriff's Departments go, they have. I'm not sure about other agencies in LA County.
Story #1: The Redondo Beach Cop Who Made Me Nervous
I just wanted to go straight and go home. I didn't feel like taking small streets around or whatever. I wanted the straight shot along Artesia Blvd that becomes Redondo Beach and eventually Compton Boulevard that would take me home.
It was a Friday night, around 9:30 PM in Redondo Beach. I had just come from doing a job at Hermosa Beach for my company and was heading Eastward, home in Compton.
Traffic was backed up for a good mile and a half. There was a large sign in construction orange colors with cones warning drivers that there was a DUI checkpoint being conducted by Redondo Beach Police. A bunch of white cops.
A little past that sign was a smaller street that a sizable amount of drivers turned into. I think you could actually avoid this DUI checkpoint. That means, you could choose not to go through it, by turning off into a little street, or so it appeared.
Majority stayed the course.
I decided that I had like the majority had no desire to do any turning, and just wanted to go straight.
I had done nothing wrong, and had nothing to worry about right?
I'd waited about 20 minutes before I'd finally reached the point where the first cop would wave us through.
One cop took a look and waved me through. Or so I thought.
I guess I was supposed to stop for the next cop? [sarcasm]Duh!!!!! How was that not obvious, especially when one of them waved you forward and at the end of all these cones there is no stop sign. The only people who stopped or made sure were probably people who did do something wrong, and were aching to admit their guilt.[/sarcasm]
I stopped but not before the cop said, "Stop stop stop stop!!!!! What are you doing?," said the middle-aged white cop.
"I thought I could go through."
"Don't you see the Stop sign?"
(Looking intently for Stop sign; none in sight) "They were waving me through."
He asked for my license, which I struggled to produced. Having just seen Straight Outta Compton, I was wondering what he would think once he saw my address.
I felt nervous now giving this cop a reason to question me.
"Where'd you come from?"
I tried with all my mind might to remember --- all I could remember was that it was 10th Street.
"Have you had anything to drink tonight?"
"Nope." As soon as this left my mouth and I stared right at the questioning officer, I knew this wasn't enough. Even I thought I sounded suspicious. Either that, or the way the cop questioned me and or his distrust of me was so dense that I felt that anything I could say was not going to get anywhere.
All I know is that I was just nervous even though I had not done anything.
He told me to follow his pen with my eyes.
I did this for a good 10 seconds.
I stared with the might of my life as he moved his pen around. I couldn't tell what he was trying to do. It just seemed like he was just trying to get me on something.
The whole time I was just wondering, why the hell would a drunk person wait 20 minutes in line for a gangload of cops, when they could just turn into a little street?
Story #2: On-Job Harrassment
For basically most of my jobs with my company, I am outside and in the public eye for several hours at time, anywhere from 1-4 hours at once.
Again I do various things as a traffic surveyor. Sometimes its counting cars at an intersection. Sometimes its taking GPS points of a sign. Sometimes its tracking the movement of cars in a parking lot.
I am always having to explain myself, half the time to the public, half the time to some representative of law enforcement. I've become used to explaining myself.
I'd say that 95-99% of cops have been standard, non-assholes to me, some even cool. I've been able to talk to LA County Sherriffs at 2 AM about the GPS work I was doing. I've been able to calm LBPD down about what I've been doing.
But the few times where cops have given me a hard time, they've given me a hard time.
Nowhere was it worse than during a job counting the traffic going through and from the LA County Jail AKA (Twin Towers Correctional Facility) right on Bauchet Street. It's a small four lane street with lots of pedestrian as well as car traffic. Lots of ordinary people, nurses, chefs, maintenance workers. Lots and lots of cops, plain clothes, dressed up, passing me by.
I have my beach chair, my ID badge (which at the time consisted of the company card), my backpack (which had snacks and my laptop, just in case things got slow) and my counting board, which to the uninitiated looks like a 1980s handheld gaming console.
On this day, I was observing the activity of an intersection along with 2 driveways. I decided that the best observation spot of traffic coming in and out would be across the street from these driveways. My counting started at 5:30 AM and I was to keep counting until 10AM.
Things were going smoothly until a big rig decided that they would pull up right in front of me and park. The asshole obstructed my view, leaving me looking under, walking around to make sure I've counted cars correctly. It looks like I'm dodging, bobbing, and weaving like Money Mayweather himself.
At around 7:10 with the sunlight peaking out, a Sherriff's department car rolls up behind the stupid ass truck.
I know where this is going.
Traffic is also constant. And so I just keep Money Mayweathering and counting, until the cops approach me. A black and an Asian-American cop. I think for a split second, "oh, my people!"
But then I think of Ice Cube's line, "black police showing out for the white cop," and...this is what happened.
"What are you doing?"
"Counting cars, bitch," I say. Though, I leave out the "bitch" part.
"What for?"
"To survey traffic. Sometimes it's for the city."
"Who are you working for?"
"I don't know, I don't know who our client is"
"What is your company?"
I give out the name.
"Can I speak to your boss?
I'm still Money Mayweathering and counting. I'm walking around, bobbing and weaving a lot. Traffic is a lot more dense now that these assholes are bothering me. Of course.
"Can we search your backpack?"
No, I'll get my phone myself. Money Mayweathering and counting.
I'm fumbling for my phone, as its not in my pocket and located somewhere in my backpack. The two assholes keep their eyes planted on me as I go towards my backpack. I rifle through the backpack in frantic search for my phone while I'm Mayweathering and counting. Incidentally I'm surprised they even let me go to my backpack myself.
Perhaps noticing that I'm frantically doing work while trying to accommodate their requests, one of them remarks "It's OK if you miss a few," said one of the oinksters who do not play any role in my employment status or my paycheck.
I take my chair and backpack and place in front of the cop car and the cops so I have all my stuff with me. Still Money Mayweathering and counting.
Still Money Mayweathering and counting, I locate the phone number not of my immediate manager but of a manager who is away. I hand it off to the black cop and he chops it up with that manager for about 10 minutes. I hear demands for names and companies as he blurts them out.
Still Money Mayweathering and counting. The black cop hangs up.
Slowly realizing that there's actually nothing going on here, the Asian-American cop preps his parting shots telling me where to stand and not stand. "You shouldn't be here hiding behind this truck" and "stop pointing that thing [counting board] at people."
And this is why sometimes when people say FTP, I don't think immediately of Filezilla.
I don't have any examples of police playing "peacekeepers" other than the times I've seen them at community meetings or various events whether its a youth meet up in Long Beach or community meeting in MacArthur Park.
If I were to be intellectually honest, I know that it's not all cops acting like assholes. They are not a separate species. In the end they are people doing their jobs, dealing with a lot of uncertainty. I think the way we have designed our justice system rife with quotas, they are prone to making false hits, casting wider nets which ends up punishing everyone, especially those either the wrong color and/or not claiming residence in high class areas.
I don't mean to say that all people think either this way or that way, but they represent two polarized sides in a spectrum of thoughts.
There's the side of the spectrum that sees the police as predators.
There's the side of the spectrum that sees the police as peacekeepers.
So the battling views are: police as predators vs. police as peacekeepers.
I understand views on the spectrum, but usually because on the internet, I tend to find myself around people who unquestionably believe in the police as peacekeepers, I like to challenge what I think is the lack of a critical eye.
Some of my more radical friends like to think we could do without the police. I'm not quite there, but I understand that they do not like the history of law enforcement in this country, nor how normalized bad behavior has seemingly become.
Another reason I'm not with my more radical friends is because I'd like to think the culture of the institution of policing/law enforcement in America could become something better, divorcing from its history.
I think that "becoming better" would be possible if there were more of a focus on prioritizing education and mediation in all the local law enforcement agencies, especially those with majority white police officers presiding over largely populations of color.
That means, police approach you with the idea that you're a human being, and not as someone who's guilty simply for existing. And to be fair, for the most part as far as LAPD and LA County Sherriff's Departments go, they have. I'm not sure about other agencies in LA County.
Story #1: The Redondo Beach Cop Who Made Me Nervous
I just wanted to go straight and go home. I didn't feel like taking small streets around or whatever. I wanted the straight shot along Artesia Blvd that becomes Redondo Beach and eventually Compton Boulevard that would take me home.
It was a Friday night, around 9:30 PM in Redondo Beach. I had just come from doing a job at Hermosa Beach for my company and was heading Eastward, home in Compton.
Traffic was backed up for a good mile and a half. There was a large sign in construction orange colors with cones warning drivers that there was a DUI checkpoint being conducted by Redondo Beach Police. A bunch of white cops.
A little past that sign was a smaller street that a sizable amount of drivers turned into. I think you could actually avoid this DUI checkpoint. That means, you could choose not to go through it, by turning off into a little street, or so it appeared.
Majority stayed the course.
I decided that I had like the majority had no desire to do any turning, and just wanted to go straight.
I had done nothing wrong, and had nothing to worry about right?
I'd waited about 20 minutes before I'd finally reached the point where the first cop would wave us through.
One cop took a look and waved me through. Or so I thought.
I guess I was supposed to stop for the next cop? [sarcasm]Duh!!!!! How was that not obvious, especially when one of them waved you forward and at the end of all these cones there is no stop sign. The only people who stopped or made sure were probably people who did do something wrong, and were aching to admit their guilt.[/sarcasm]
I stopped but not before the cop said, "Stop stop stop stop!!!!! What are you doing?," said the middle-aged white cop.
"I thought I could go through."
"Don't you see the Stop sign?"
(Looking intently for Stop sign; none in sight) "They were waving me through."
He asked for my license, which I struggled to produced. Having just seen Straight Outta Compton, I was wondering what he would think once he saw my address.
I felt nervous now giving this cop a reason to question me.
"Where'd you come from?"
I tried with all my mind might to remember --- all I could remember was that it was 10th Street.
"Have you had anything to drink tonight?"
"Nope." As soon as this left my mouth and I stared right at the questioning officer, I knew this wasn't enough. Even I thought I sounded suspicious. Either that, or the way the cop questioned me and or his distrust of me was so dense that I felt that anything I could say was not going to get anywhere.
All I know is that I was just nervous even though I had not done anything.
He told me to follow his pen with my eyes.
I did this for a good 10 seconds.
I stared with the might of my life as he moved his pen around. I couldn't tell what he was trying to do. It just seemed like he was just trying to get me on something.
The whole time I was just wondering, why the hell would a drunk person wait 20 minutes in line for a gangload of cops, when they could just turn into a little street?
Story #2: On-Job Harrassment
For basically most of my jobs with my company, I am outside and in the public eye for several hours at time, anywhere from 1-4 hours at once.
Again I do various things as a traffic surveyor. Sometimes its counting cars at an intersection. Sometimes its taking GPS points of a sign. Sometimes its tracking the movement of cars in a parking lot.
I am always having to explain myself, half the time to the public, half the time to some representative of law enforcement. I've become used to explaining myself.
I'd say that 95-99% of cops have been standard, non-assholes to me, some even cool. I've been able to talk to LA County Sherriffs at 2 AM about the GPS work I was doing. I've been able to calm LBPD down about what I've been doing.
But the few times where cops have given me a hard time, they've given me a hard time.
Nowhere was it worse than during a job counting the traffic going through and from the LA County Jail AKA (Twin Towers Correctional Facility) right on Bauchet Street. It's a small four lane street with lots of pedestrian as well as car traffic. Lots of ordinary people, nurses, chefs, maintenance workers. Lots and lots of cops, plain clothes, dressed up, passing me by.
I have my beach chair, my ID badge (which at the time consisted of the company card), my backpack (which had snacks and my laptop, just in case things got slow) and my counting board, which to the uninitiated looks like a 1980s handheld gaming console.
On this day, I was observing the activity of an intersection along with 2 driveways. I decided that the best observation spot of traffic coming in and out would be across the street from these driveways. My counting started at 5:30 AM and I was to keep counting until 10AM.
Things were going smoothly until a big rig decided that they would pull up right in front of me and park. The asshole obstructed my view, leaving me looking under, walking around to make sure I've counted cars correctly. It looks like I'm dodging, bobbing, and weaving like Money Mayweather himself.
At around 7:10 with the sunlight peaking out, a Sherriff's department car rolls up behind the stupid ass truck.
I know where this is going.
Traffic is also constant. And so I just keep Money Mayweathering and counting, until the cops approach me. A black and an Asian-American cop. I think for a split second, "oh, my people!"
But then I think of Ice Cube's line, "black police showing out for the white cop," and...this is what happened.
"What are you doing?"
"Counting cars, bitch," I say. Though, I leave out the "bitch" part.
"What for?"
"To survey traffic. Sometimes it's for the city."
"Who are you working for?"
"I don't know, I don't know who our client is"
"What is your company?"
I give out the name.
"Can I speak to your boss?
I'm still Money Mayweathering and counting. I'm walking around, bobbing and weaving a lot. Traffic is a lot more dense now that these assholes are bothering me. Of course.
"Can we search your backpack?"
No, I'll get my phone myself. Money Mayweathering and counting.
I'm fumbling for my phone, as its not in my pocket and located somewhere in my backpack. The two assholes keep their eyes planted on me as I go towards my backpack. I rifle through the backpack in frantic search for my phone while I'm Mayweathering and counting. Incidentally I'm surprised they even let me go to my backpack myself.
Perhaps noticing that I'm frantically doing work while trying to accommodate their requests, one of them remarks "It's OK if you miss a few," said one of the oinksters who do not play any role in my employment status or my paycheck.
I take my chair and backpack and place in front of the cop car and the cops so I have all my stuff with me. Still Money Mayweathering and counting.
Still Money Mayweathering and counting, I locate the phone number not of my immediate manager but of a manager who is away. I hand it off to the black cop and he chops it up with that manager for about 10 minutes. I hear demands for names and companies as he blurts them out.
Still Money Mayweathering and counting. The black cop hangs up.
Slowly realizing that there's actually nothing going on here, the Asian-American cop preps his parting shots telling me where to stand and not stand. "You shouldn't be here hiding behind this truck" and "stop pointing that thing [counting board] at people."
And this is why sometimes when people say FTP, I don't think immediately of Filezilla.
I don't have any examples of police playing "peacekeepers" other than the times I've seen them at community meetings or various events whether its a youth meet up in Long Beach or community meeting in MacArthur Park.
If I were to be intellectually honest, I know that it's not all cops acting like assholes. They are not a separate species. In the end they are people doing their jobs, dealing with a lot of uncertainty. I think the way we have designed our justice system rife with quotas, they are prone to making false hits, casting wider nets which ends up punishing everyone, especially those either the wrong color and/or not claiming residence in high class areas.
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