E. Bowles handed her the ticket and bade her good day. As he walked back to his patrol car, Elena stuck her head out the window. “Thank you,” she shouted back to him.
He stopped and turned around, not quite sure what he’d just heard. “I’m sorry?”
“I said thank you.”
He walked back to Elena’s window. “I just wrote you the ticket, what in the world are you thanking me for?”
Elena got the sense this wasn’t something he was accustomed to. “I know you wrote me the ticket, but you didn’t try to interrogate me, or make me let you search the car, or look down on me, or make me feel mistreated in any way. And you had a real reason to give me the ticket too. I just think that when a cop does his job like a professional, you ought to say thanks. So thank you.”
E. Bowles had does not compute written all over his face. Elena knew this was a thankless job even for the best among them, but apparently not to what extent. The cop looked around, almost like he wanted to see if anyone was looking. Then he reached in and snatched the ticket back from her. “Gimme that,” he said. “Just please wear the belt.”
Now it was Elena’s turn to be stunned, but she wasn’t so stunned that she had neglected to do a ring check as he reached in. It came up negative.
“Wait,” she said, and he stopped again. She had to do this now because she’d never have the nerve again. She grabbed one of her cards out of her purse, got out of the car, and held it out to him.
“What’s that?”
“It’s my card.” He took it from her slowly, with a puzzled expression. “It’s got my number on it.”
E. Bowles broke a smile, and the way he looked at her changed. Not by much, but Elena was a woman and thus knew when she was being checked out. The cop took a look at the card and then put it in his shirt pocket. Then he tipped his hat to her and went on his way.
Elena got back in the car, put her seatbelt on and began driving home again, her mind spinning. Life had a way of taking you places you never expected. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, but almost always, it seemed like things worked out the way they were supposed to.
“Oh Randy, I hope you’re not mad,” she said out loud.
The End
Afterword
I hope you’ve enjoyed my tale. Whether you did or not though, chances are that you’re wondering what would lead somebody to write a story like this, so perhaps a little explanation is in order.
As you might have guessed, I’ve been the subject of special attention by law enforcement myself. There’s nothing special about that at all, as many, many people have had that experience. It’s from that experience that I’m able to describe what it does to a person. How it makes them feel, and how it affects their views on what they consider justified.
As many others have as well, I’ve witnessed exactly how much respect the average law enforcement officer has for the law. The answer is, not much. I’ve witnessed their willingness to misconstrue facts against people, and fabricate justifications for the use of force. It tends to make a person cynical.
The idea for this book had been kicking around in my head for years since all of this happened. But when the string of attacks on law enforcement began in Washington State, starting in 2009 with Christopher Monfort, I scrapped the idea. I had no wish to have a hand in putting such ideas into the head of the wrong person (and still don’t) and I felt that law enforcement had likely learned their lesson anyhow.
But that turned out not to be so. In cases of egregious shootings committed by police officers before and since that episode, shootings which are, in the opinion of this writer, clearly murder, there is still no criminal accountability to be had. Nor has much of anything else changed. It’s full steam ahead for the status quo.
People in law enforcement need to understand what sort of a position they are painting people into. The abusive methods used during routine encounters, and the lack of helpfulness when help is really needed, send a clear message that we’re not on the same side. The willingness to lie about people, and treat them as subhuman, are what generate the animosity they experience daily. And then there are the shootings. All in all, there’s not a great deal of reason to feel safe or comforted in the presence of police. And it’s a sad reality that you’d have to be insane to call 911 as anything other than a last resort.
So I wrote this book in the hope of helping people on all sides understand the nature of the problem, and what has to be done about it. And to motivate them to pay attention to the lesson, I also wanted people to understand just what sort of things could happen if some meaningful changes aren’t made. Some very bad things have happened already, on both sides of the issue. But it can always get worse.
That isn’t my hope however. My hope is that this book might encourage people to relearn the lost art of civility, rather than driving one another into a corner from where they feel they have no choice but to lash out. Because, no bullshit, that could be bad. Anyone who studies the history of shooting trends can tell you, what happened in Washington State in 2009 and 2010 could easily go national if it were to happen again.
So with that all said, if you, the reader, happen to be a police officer of the kind who would have felt at home in the Forest Hill Police Department, try this little experiment. Spend a few days treating people like human beings, and see if it doesn’t make a difference.
If you’re a person who has suffered at the hands of police, and the sort of scenario in this book has begun looking attractive, my advice to you is simple. Get help.
Or alternatively, you can do what I did and use their dirty deeds to sell your own book.
Best to all.
Thomas A. Young
October, 2011
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