Good cops and bad copsÂ… IÂ’m not going to try to address every post individually.
Guess what? As long as we hire police officers that start life as human beings, weÂ’re going to end up with some bad cops. Sometimes, despite every effort in screening, someone gets through that is a bully at heart, or even an outright criminal. Sometimes thereÂ’s no way to tell until theyÂ’ve passed the academy and hit the street. SometimesÂ… itÂ’s not even till theyÂ’ve been on their own a bitÂ… But thatÂ’s also a far cry from allegations of some sort of systematic or intentional abuse.
Most people who become cops do so because they sincerely want to help and protect people, no matter how corny it sounds to say so. But the job will wear you down; nobody calls the cops because their kid got straight As or drew a pretty picture that’s stuck up on the fridge. Cops are the party poopers. They’re the ones who tell you to knock it off when you’re having a good time – but are never there fast enough when it’s the other guy’s good time that’s disturbing yours. Someone compared cops and soldiers; there’s a lot of validity, but one huge difference. Most people won’t have an encounter with a soldier who’s going to tell them what to do or make them do something they don’t want to. Most people will, at least once in their life, encounter a police officer who’s telling them to stop doing something or to move along or that they can’t go down that road or whatever. That does shape how society in general relates to the police – and how the police in general relate to society. Jack Webb as Joe Friday in Dragnet described it pretty well:
(Jack delivers the following speech about the trials and tribulations of being a police officer to a rookie undercover officer suspected of robbing a liquor store. It's our most-requested speech, and many people frame the words. (Please note that this transcript was taken from the slightly edited Nick at Nite version of this episode. We plan to add a few missing lines soon.)
"It's awkward having a policeman around the house. Friends drop in, a man with a badge answers the door, the temperature drops 20 degrees.
You throw a party and that badge gets in the way. All of a sudden there isn't a straight man in the crowd. Everybody's a comedian. "Don't drink too much," somebody says, "or the man with a badge'll run you in." Or "How's it going, Dick Tracy? How many jaywalkers did you pinch today?" And then there's always the one who wants to know how many apples you stole.
All at once you lost your first name. You're a cop, a flatfoot, a bull, a dick, John Law. You're the fuzz, the heat; you're poison, you're trouble, you're bad news. They call you everything, but never a policeman.
It's not much of a life, unless you don't mind missing a Dodger game because the hotshot phone rings. Unless you like working Saturdays, Sundays, and holidays, at a job that doesn't pay overtime. Oh, the pay's adequate-- if you count pennies you can put your kid through college, but you better plan on seeing Europe on your television set.
And then there's your first night on the beat. When you try to arrest a drunken prostitute in a Main St. bar and she rips your new uniform to shreds. You'll buy another one-- out of your own pocket.
And you're going to rub elbows with the elite-- pimps, addicts, thieves, bums, winos, girls who can't keep an address and men who don't care. Liars, cheats, con men-- the class of Skid Row.
And the heartbreak-- underfed kids, beaten kids, molested kids, lost kids, crying kids, homeless kids, hit-and-run kids, broken-arm kids, broken-leg kids, broken-head kids, sick kids, dying kids, dead kids. The old people nobody wants-- the reliefers, the pensioners, the ones who walk the street cold, and those who tried to keep warm and died in a $3 room with an unventilated gas heater. You'll walk your beat and try to pick up the pieces.
Do you have real adventure in your soul? You better have, because you're gonna do time in a prowl car. Oh, it's going to be a thrill a minute when you get an unknown-trouble call and hit a backyard at two in the morning, never knowing who you'll meet-- a kid with a knife, a pill-head with a gun, or two ex-cons with nothing to lose.
And you're going to have plenty of time to think. You'll draw duty in a lonely car, with nobody to talk to but your radio.
Four years in uniform and you'll have the ability, the experience and maybe the desire to be a detective. If you like to fly by the seat of your pants, this is where you belong. For every crime that's committed, you've got three million suspects to choose from. And most of the time, you'll have few facts and a lot of hunches. You'll run down leads that dead-end on you. You'll work all-night stakeouts that could last a week. You'll do leg work until you're sure you've talked to everybody in the state of California.
People who saw it happen - but really didn't. People who insist they did it - but really didn't. People who don't remember - those who try to forget. Those who tell the truth - those who lie. You'll run the files until your eyes ache.
And paperwork? Oh, you'll fill out a report when you're right, you'll fill out a report when you're wrong, you'll fill one out when you're not sure, you'll fill one out listing your leads, you'll fill one out when you have no leads, you'll fill out a report on the reports you've made! You'll write enough words in your lifetime to stock a library. You'll learn to live with doubt, anxiety, frustration. Court decisions that tend to hinder rather than help you. Dorado, Morse, Escobedo, Cahan. You'll learn to live with the District Attorney, testifying in court, defense attorneys, prosecuting attorneys, judges, juries, witnesses. And sometimes you're not going to be happy with the outcome.
But there's also this: there are over 5,000 men in this city, who know that being a policeman is an endless, glamourless, thankless job that's gotta be done.
I know it, too, and I'm damn glad to be one of them."
Some if it’s not totally accurate anymore (most of us get OT pay now, and many departments issue uniforms – but not all!), but a lot of it is still true. The stale jokes that are old by the time you’re done FTO… the people who won’t associate with you… and the emotional, spiritual, and physical wear and tear is something that there really aren’t words to explain.
Unfortunately… cops are human. They have bad days. The general crap does get to them. It’s not excusing being rude or unprofessional… but it does serve as mitigation. How many times can people in general lie to you before you decide that everyone is a liar? How many times can someone insult your parenthood before you start to question the parenthood of the people you deal with? It does get to you; it does wear you down… and sometimes, it just plain comes out. You also have to remember that sometimes a cop has to “speak the language” that the people he’s dealing with understand. In a neighborhood where the median income is in the seven figure range, that’s one way… but in an area with a 4 or 5 figure median income… Well, “pretty please” and a gentle guiding hand won’t get you very far. Again, to be clear, I’m not at all suggesting that every cop is perfect or that it’s acceptable for a cop to be less than professional – but I am absolutely saying it’s human to be so. And, I’ll tell you, most cops live for and measure their experiences by the “exceptional” moments, like the day a little boy walked up and told me that I was his friend – because “the police are our friends.”
With regard to cover-ups, internal investigations, and the likeÂ… Yeah, cops do stick together. Perhaps youÂ’re familiar with Prince HenryÂ’s speech from Shakespeare:
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother
Yes, cops will look out for each other – especially in minor matters. But there’s nobody despised by law enforcement officers more than a true dirty cop. We just often don't want to air our dirty laundry in public, any more than you would.
It was asked what you might do to ensure a more positive encounter with the police. It’s a joke – but Chris Rock’s bit about how not to get your *** kicked by the police has a lot of truth. Start by treating us the way you want to be treated. For example, one clueless soccer mom was rather upset at the way I spoke to her one day. Well… I admit, I was a bit out of sorts. See, I’d followed her, with my lights and sirens on, for about 3 blocks till she parked and got out of her car… For some reason, I wasn’t all sweetness and light when I made contact with her... Obey the law. (In fact, you’ve probably heard of “professional courtesy”; I’ve said many times that it starts with the cop being courteous enough NOT to give someone a reason to stop them.) Listen to what the cop says when he approaches you. If I’m stopping someone because they’re similar to a lookout, I’m probably going to explain that to you, though the explanation may come after I’ve sorted out who you are depending on the exact circumstances.
Cops do make mistakes, and they do things that they shouldn’t. If you happen to get caught in the middle of one of those incidents – go with the program. The time to argue and fuss over it isn’t on the side of the road or in the street. (Rich Parsons described his situation quite well – and it came out so well because he didn’t make it harder at the time.) Do what the cops say, work with them… and, if appropriate, deal with the mistake through whatever channel (official or press or even civil court) AFTERWARDS. Think of it kind of like a leaking toilet; you could ***** and call the manufacturer about the leak while it’s going on… but you’ll still have the mess growing unless you deal with the situation and stop the leak first. By going with the program, you’ll “stop the leak” and be able to deal with the problem later.