I remember hanging out with my buddies back in New York, trying to concoct ways to mock and frustrate cops. We would frustrate them with mischief, keep them running by setting off alarms. We rationalized it by accusing them all of corruption and highlighting every suspicion of brutality.
There was a kid selling weapons in my school whose dad was a cop. The dad confiscated many weapons. Somehow his son ended up with the weapons and sold them at school. There was talk about protection money paid to cops. There was the way they seemingly ignored some crooks while cracking down on others.
We didn’t discriminate between good cops and bad cops. They became a part of a faceless group of authority figures whom we lived to mock. It was as if we could elevate ourselves from stupidity and powerlessness by mocking the most powerful people we knew – the cops. They had guns, badges, salaries, uniforms and lots of power. We found a perverse pleasure in yanking their chain. Yet when I overdosed, it was a cop that saved my life. My buddies ran away scared.
Years passed and things changed.
As a budding activist working in Chicago’s Cabrini Green housing projects, my relationship with police “matured” to that of a critic. It was less about causing trouble for them, and it became more about publicizing their shortcomings. We would complain publicly about the cops assigned to our housing project. It seemed we got stuck with the drunks, flunkies or discipline cases. More interested in covering their butts than protecting our lives.
During gun-slinging gang fights, kids and families were barricaded in the church and school. The police seemed to wait til the shooting died down. Seemed they were more into mopping up than breaking up the fights. I was a vocal critic. I remember an undercover cop shoving a gun in my face while walking alone one night. He took the opportunity to explain his feelings about the way I ought to be doing my job.
More years passed and more things changed.
I moved to Winnipeg. Cops here seemed neater, cleaner, gentler than most I remembered back in the states. When the department started with community foot patrols, I got worried that we’d get stuck with their flunkies. I wondered if it was just an accommodation to activists or if it reflected a real change in philosophy.
The few that seemed to fit the part of the flunkie didn’t last long around here. Most of the foot patrol officers treated this neighbourhood as if their own family lived and shopped here. Some went above and beyond the call of duty. Some regularly risked the wrath of superiors who talked about change, but rewarded only traditional solutions. These cops knew the rules of the brass as well as the needs of our community. It takes a creative and sometimes feisty attitude to reconcile the two.
Their attitude earned my respect. I began to care about what happened to them, professionally and personally. Some of them became my friends.
I learned it isn’t always easy being “blue.”
When they’re on uniformed patrol through the neighbourhood, some activists complain that they’re not doing the undercover surveillance required to bust dealers and hookers.
But when they’re working undercover, some residents complain that their uniformed sense of security is nowhere to be found.
When they’re patrolling the street and catching crooks, they get blamed for not caring enough about attendance at community meetings and local businesses.
But when they’re chatting it up at community meetings and local businesses, they get blamed for having coffee inside while the crooks are outside laughing.
They have personal problems, like the rest of us. They care about getting home to their families. They worry about “outside the box” solutions that may jeopardize their career. They worry about crooks that can barely spell their names, but regularly abuse the hotline to LERA.
They get frustrated with a legal system that seems to negate rather than affirm their work. They get tired of jurisdictional disputes and inter-departmental squabbles.
One more thing I’ve noticed. As much as we want them to take risks for us, we’re not there enough to cover their backs when they catch flack.
Constable Templeton, we’re praying for your full recovery. To the rest of the good folks in blue, thanks. We’ll try to do better at backing you up while you take daily risks to ensure the safety of our neighbourhood.
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca