My brother once told me about an experience he had, that he describes as "darkly humorous but heartbreaking"…
He’s retired from the police department now, and doesn’t talk much about that time, but occasionally he’ll share a story.
He and his partner at the time were on patrol and had been sent to the home of an elderly woman for a "wellness check". Apparently she was babysitting her granddaughter and when her son called her from out of town, the child answered the phone and got cut off before she could get the grandmother.
They went to the door, knocked, and a little girl, black, answered. She saw my brother’s partner first, rather imposing looking, and white, in the uniform. Her eyes widened.
"Are you here to kill us ?" she asked.
Then she saw my brother, who has often been kidded about having "such a kind face—for a cop". He knelt down and explained that they were just checking to make sure she and her grandmother were okay, and that her father would be coming home soon. That comforted the child. Meanwhile, the grandmother appeared and apparently everything was okay.
But on the drive back, the other policeman was so rattled by the little girl’s question and said to my brother, "someone taught that child to be afraid of us." My brother explained that unfortunately, black parents often have to have "the talk" with their children, especially their sons, because police are often afraid of them.
His partner, a longtime friend who knows all of us asked, "Your parents had that discussion with you ? And you went into law enforcement anyway ?"
He replied, "They did. And I did, because I hoped my presence might improve things. But out of uniform, and sometimes even in it, I’m not treated much differently from any other black man."
He and his partner at the time were on patrol and had been sent to the home of an elderly woman for a "wellness check". Apparently she was babysitting her granddaughter and when her son called her from out of town, the child answered the phone and got cut off before she could get the grandmother.
They went to the door, knocked, and a little girl, black, answered. She saw my brother’s partner first, rather imposing looking, and white, in the uniform. Her eyes widened.
"Are you here to kill us ?" she asked.
Then she saw my brother, who has often been kidded about having "such a kind face—for a cop". He knelt down and explained that they were just checking to make sure she and her grandmother were okay, and that her father would be coming home soon. That comforted the child. Meanwhile, the grandmother appeared and apparently everything was okay.
But on the drive back, the other policeman was so rattled by the little girl’s question and said to my brother, "someone taught that child to be afraid of us." My brother explained that unfortunately, black parents often have to have "the talk" with their children, especially their sons, because police are often afraid of them.
His partner, a longtime friend who knows all of us asked, "Your parents had that discussion with you ? And you went into law enforcement anyway ?"
He replied, "They did. And I did, because I hoped my presence might improve things. But out of uniform, and sometimes even in it, I’m not treated much differently from any other black man."
