Stupid, Dumb and Just Plain Ignorant Cop Thread
- Thread starter Cannuck
- Start date
In Conyers, Georgia, a K-9 bloodhound for the Conyers Police Department is dead after having been left in his handler's patrol car for several hours on Thursday, reports 11alive.com.
Officer Jerahmy Williams is reported to have driven home feeling ill at the end of his shift in his patrol car. The officer apparently forgot his K-9 named Zane was in the back seat of his vehicle after he arrived home. When the officer went back to his car that evening to return to work, Zane had died; the dog had been left in the car for seven hours during the day as temperatures exceeded 90 degrees.
Zane, a five year old bloodhound, has worked as a tracking dog for Conyers Police Department for four years; three of those with his current handler, Williams.
Conyers Police Chief Gene Wilson stated Williams was distraught over the death of his dog.
Conyers K9 overheats, dies in locked police car
Officer Jerahmy Williams is reported to have driven home feeling ill at the end of his shift in his patrol car. The officer apparently forgot his K-9 named Zane was in the back seat of his vehicle after he arrived home. When the officer went back to his car that evening to return to work, Zane had died; the dog had been left in the car for seven hours during the day as temperatures exceeded 90 degrees.
Zane, a five year old bloodhound, has worked as a tracking dog for Conyers Police Department for four years; three of those with his current handler, Williams.
Conyers Police Chief Gene Wilson stated Williams was distraught over the death of his dog.
Conyers K9 overheats, dies in locked police car
How much is a life worth? Calculations behind Gardena's $4.7-million police shooting settlement - LA Times
Police stupidity costs the taxpayers of LA more millions.
An attorney representing the family of Ricardo Diaz Zeferino, whose shooting death by Gardena police was captured in a video made public this week, bristled Wednesday morning talking about the millions the city paid out to settle the family's lawsuit.
"This is not about money," attorney Sonia Mercado said. "Money doesn't bring their son back."
But as countless families before them have discovered, in the courts, most everything translates into a dollar figure — be it suffering, loss or injustice.
In the case of Diaz Zeferino and two other men who were mistaken for robbery suspects by Gardena police officers, the price the city ultimately agreed to pay was $4.7 million. How attorneys, mediators and the city's insurer came to agree on that figure is a tricky and murky calculus.
Diaz Zeferino and co-workers Eutiquio Acevedo Mendez and Jose Amado were looking for Diaz Zeferino's brother's stolen bicycle in June 2013 when they encountered the police. The officers, who were erroneously told that the bike had been taken as part of a robbery, mistook the three men as the robbers.
In the video released Tuesday afternoon, the men are shown with their hands raised as officers had their guns drawn. After Diaz Zeferino drops his hands near his waist multiple times, a flurry of shots are fired. Diaz Zeferino was killed. Mendez was hit near his spine but survived. Amado was unharmed.
The city first settled with Amado for $200,000 in June 2014. Then in February, attorneys were less than a month away from a trial set to take place in federal court when they reached the final settlement for Mendez and Diaz Zeferino's family for $4.5 million. Zeferino's family received $2.8 million and Mendez $1.7 million, according to an attorney for the city.
R. Samuel Paz, Mendez's attorney, said the settlement was the result of about a year of negotiation. The city initially offered nothing, but substantially increased its settlement offers as litigation progressed and the trial date neared, Paz said.
Paz said that because of the video and the evidence attorneys gathered about the shooting, he believed they had a strong case and was planning on asking jurors to award $6 million to $7 million in compensatory damages. Jurors additionally could have awarded much more in punitive damages against the police chief and the officers, if they felt the police's actions were egregious, he said.
more ....
Police stupidity costs the taxpayers of LA more millions.
An attorney representing the family of Ricardo Diaz Zeferino, whose shooting death by Gardena police was captured in a video made public this week, bristled Wednesday morning talking about the millions the city paid out to settle the family's lawsuit.
"This is not about money," attorney Sonia Mercado said. "Money doesn't bring their son back."
But as countless families before them have discovered, in the courts, most everything translates into a dollar figure — be it suffering, loss or injustice.
In the case of Diaz Zeferino and two other men who were mistaken for robbery suspects by Gardena police officers, the price the city ultimately agreed to pay was $4.7 million. How attorneys, mediators and the city's insurer came to agree on that figure is a tricky and murky calculus.
Diaz Zeferino and co-workers Eutiquio Acevedo Mendez and Jose Amado were looking for Diaz Zeferino's brother's stolen bicycle in June 2013 when they encountered the police. The officers, who were erroneously told that the bike had been taken as part of a robbery, mistook the three men as the robbers.
In the video released Tuesday afternoon, the men are shown with their hands raised as officers had their guns drawn. After Diaz Zeferino drops his hands near his waist multiple times, a flurry of shots are fired. Diaz Zeferino was killed. Mendez was hit near his spine but survived. Amado was unharmed.
The city first settled with Amado for $200,000 in June 2014. Then in February, attorneys were less than a month away from a trial set to take place in federal court when they reached the final settlement for Mendez and Diaz Zeferino's family for $4.5 million. Zeferino's family received $2.8 million and Mendez $1.7 million, according to an attorney for the city.
R. Samuel Paz, Mendez's attorney, said the settlement was the result of about a year of negotiation. The city initially offered nothing, but substantially increased its settlement offers as litigation progressed and the trial date neared, Paz said.
Paz said that because of the video and the evidence attorneys gathered about the shooting, he believed they had a strong case and was planning on asking jurors to award $6 million to $7 million in compensatory damages. Jurors additionally could have awarded much more in punitive damages against the police chief and the officers, if they felt the police's actions were egregious, he said.
more ....
Ex-deputy indicted in flash-bang case that injured infant. Deputy lied.
“Our criminal justice system depends upon our police officers’ sworn duty to present facts truthfully and accurately – there is no arrest that is worth selling out the integrity of our law enforcement officers,” said Acting U.S. Attorney John Horn in a news release to FOX 5. “In this case, Autry is charged with making false statements to a judge in order to obtain search and arrest warrants. Without her false statements, there was no probable cause to search the premises for drugs or to make the arrest. And in this case, the consequences of the unlawful search were tragic.”
The following details were included inside the news release:
“Eventually, a brand new NCIS informant and two of his associates – his wife and a roommate – went to a residence located in Cornelia, Georgia. The informant’s roommate, who was not officially working with NCIS, approached the residence and allegedly purchased a small quantity of methamphetamine from an individual unknown to him who was standing outside the residence. There was no police surveillance to verify the purchase. Shortly afterwards, Autry presented an affidavit to a Habersham County magistrate judge falsely swearing that the NCIS informant made the purchase and that the NCIS informant was “a true and reliable informant who has provided information in the past that has led to criminal charges on individuals selling narcotics in Habersham County.”
The federal indictment alleges that Autry knew the NCIS informant had not purchased any methamphetamine from anyone at the residence and the NCIS informant had not proven himself to be reliable in the past. Additionally, the indictment alleges that Autry had not confirmed that there was heavy traffic in and out of the residence. Based on this false information, the magistrate judge issued a “no-knock” search warrant for the residence and an arrest warrant for W. T., who allegedly sold the methamphetamine. The warrant obtained by Autry was executed approximately two hours later, during the early morning hours of May 28, 2014.”
more
Ex-deputy charged in Habersham raid that injured toddler - Atlanta News, Weather, Traffic, and Sports | FOX 5
“Our criminal justice system depends upon our police officers’ sworn duty to present facts truthfully and accurately – there is no arrest that is worth selling out the integrity of our law enforcement officers,” said Acting U.S. Attorney John Horn in a news release to FOX 5. “In this case, Autry is charged with making false statements to a judge in order to obtain search and arrest warrants. Without her false statements, there was no probable cause to search the premises for drugs or to make the arrest. And in this case, the consequences of the unlawful search were tragic.”
The following details were included inside the news release:
“Eventually, a brand new NCIS informant and two of his associates – his wife and a roommate – went to a residence located in Cornelia, Georgia. The informant’s roommate, who was not officially working with NCIS, approached the residence and allegedly purchased a small quantity of methamphetamine from an individual unknown to him who was standing outside the residence. There was no police surveillance to verify the purchase. Shortly afterwards, Autry presented an affidavit to a Habersham County magistrate judge falsely swearing that the NCIS informant made the purchase and that the NCIS informant was “a true and reliable informant who has provided information in the past that has led to criminal charges on individuals selling narcotics in Habersham County.”
The federal indictment alleges that Autry knew the NCIS informant had not purchased any methamphetamine from anyone at the residence and the NCIS informant had not proven himself to be reliable in the past. Additionally, the indictment alleges that Autry had not confirmed that there was heavy traffic in and out of the residence. Based on this false information, the magistrate judge issued a “no-knock” search warrant for the residence and an arrest warrant for W. T., who allegedly sold the methamphetamine. The warrant obtained by Autry was executed approximately two hours later, during the early morning hours of May 28, 2014.”
more
Ex-deputy charged in Habersham raid that injured toddler - Atlanta News, Weather, Traffic, and Sports | FOX 5
911 dispatcher tells woman with dying teen to 'deal with it'
Reuters
First posted: Tuesday, July 28, 2015 07:08 PM EDT | Updated: Tuesday, July 28, 2015 07:15 PM EDT
A New Mexico emergency dispatcher has been placed on leave after he told a woman attending to a shot and dying 17-year-old boy to "deal with it yourself" during an argument on the telephone, fire officials said on Tuesday.
Albuquerque Fire Chief David Downey said in a statement he was taking the incident seriously, and that an investigation is under way.
Firefighter Matthew Sanchez had already sent paramedics to the scene of the June 26 shooting at a house during the call when he and the caller got into an argument, fire and police officials said.
The caller told Sanchez she was doing cardiopulmonary resuscitation on the boy, and then Sanchez twice asked if the teenager was breathing, according to a recording of the call released by the Fire Department.
"He's barely breathing. How many times do I have to f---ing tell you?" the woman said.
"Ok, you know what ma'am?" Sanchez responded. "You could deal with it yourself. I'm not gonna deal with this, okay?"
The call then ends as the woman exclaims that the boy is dying, and she is cut-off mid-sentence.
Albuquerque television station KRQE first reported on the controversial 911 call on Monday. The Fire Department, which released the call to the media, said it omitted the first nearly 3 minutes of the emergency call to protect patient privacy.
Sanchez has been removed from the dispatch center and been placed on administrative assignment, Downey's statement said.
The 17-year-old boy, Jaydon Chavez-Silver, was later taken to a hospital where he was pronounced dead, said Albuquerque police spokesman Officer Tanner Tixier.
The teenager was at a small gathering at a house when a shooter opened fire from outside the residence and struck him, Tixier said. The motive for the attack was unclear and no one has been arrested in connection with the slaying, he said.
911 dispatcher tells woman with dying teen to 'deal with it' | World | News | To
Reuters
First posted: Tuesday, July 28, 2015 07:08 PM EDT | Updated: Tuesday, July 28, 2015 07:15 PM EDT
A New Mexico emergency dispatcher has been placed on leave after he told a woman attending to a shot and dying 17-year-old boy to "deal with it yourself" during an argument on the telephone, fire officials said on Tuesday.
Albuquerque Fire Chief David Downey said in a statement he was taking the incident seriously, and that an investigation is under way.
Firefighter Matthew Sanchez had already sent paramedics to the scene of the June 26 shooting at a house during the call when he and the caller got into an argument, fire and police officials said.
The caller told Sanchez she was doing cardiopulmonary resuscitation on the boy, and then Sanchez twice asked if the teenager was breathing, according to a recording of the call released by the Fire Department.
"He's barely breathing. How many times do I have to f---ing tell you?" the woman said.
"Ok, you know what ma'am?" Sanchez responded. "You could deal with it yourself. I'm not gonna deal with this, okay?"
The call then ends as the woman exclaims that the boy is dying, and she is cut-off mid-sentence.
Albuquerque television station KRQE first reported on the controversial 911 call on Monday. The Fire Department, which released the call to the media, said it omitted the first nearly 3 minutes of the emergency call to protect patient privacy.
Sanchez has been removed from the dispatch center and been placed on administrative assignment, Downey's statement said.
The 17-year-old boy, Jaydon Chavez-Silver, was later taken to a hospital where he was pronounced dead, said Albuquerque police spokesman Officer Tanner Tixier.
The teenager was at a small gathering at a house when a shooter opened fire from outside the residence and struck him, Tixier said. The motive for the attack was unclear and no one has been arrested in connection with the slaying, he said.
911 dispatcher tells woman with dying teen to 'deal with it' | World | News | To
In Iraq, I raided insurgents; In Virginia, the police raided me
Cookies Disabled | Sun Journal
I got home from the bar and fell into bed soon after Saturday night bled into Sunday morning. I didn't wake up until three police officers barged into my apartment, barking their presence at my door. They sped down the hallway to my bedroom, their service pistols drawn and leveled at me.
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MATT MCCLAIN/THE WASHINGTON POST
Alex Horton, 30, in the hallway outside his Alexandria, Va., apartment on July 16. An Iraq War veteran, Horton was recently awoken by a police raid. A resident mistakenly had thought that Horton was an intruder in an unoccupied apartment and called the police.
We've seen this troubling approach to law enforcement nationwide, in militarized police responses to nonviolent protesters and in fatal police shootings of unarmed citizens. The culture that encourages police officers to engage their weapons before gathering information promotes the mind-set that nothing, including citizen safety, is more important than officers' personal security. That approach has caused public trust in law enforcement to deteriorate. -- Iraq veteran Alex Horton
It was just past 9 a.m., and I was still under the covers. The only visible target was my head.
In the shouting and commotion, I felt an instant familiarity. I'd been here before. This was a raid.
I had done this a few dozen times myself, 6,000 miles away from my Alexandria, Virginia, apartment. As an Army infantryman in Iraq, I'd always been on the trigger side of the weapon. Now that I was on the barrel side, I recalled basic training's most important firearm rule: Aim only at something you intend to kill.
I had conducted the same kind of raid on suspected bombmakers and high-value insurgents. But the Fairfax County officers in my apartment were aiming their weapons at a target whose rap sheet consisted only of parking tickets and an overdue library book.
My situation was terrifying. Lying facedown in bed, I knew that any move I made could be viewed as a threat. Instinct told me to get up and protect myself. Training told me that if I did, these officers would shoot me dead.
In a panic, I asked the officers what was going on but got no immediate answer. Their tactics were similar to the ones I used to clear rooms during the height of guerilla warfare in Iraq. I could almost admire it — their fluid sweep from the bedroom doorway to the distant corner. They stayed clear of one another's lines of fire in case they needed to empty their Sig Sauer .40-caliber pistols into me.
They were well-trained, their supervisor later told me. But I knew that means little when adrenaline governs an imminent-danger scenario, real or imagined. Triggers are pulled. Mistakes are made.
I spread my arms out to either side. An officer jumped onto my bed and locked handcuffs onto my wrists. The officers rolled me from side to side, searching my boxers for weapons, then yanked me up to sit on the edge of the bed.
At first, I was stunned. I searched my memory for any incident that would justify a police raid. Then it clicked.
Earlier in the week, the managers of my apartment complex moved me to a model unit while a crew repaired a leak in my dishwasher. But they hadn't informed my temporary neighbors. So when one resident noticed the door slightly cracked open to what he presumed was an unoccupied apartment, he looked in, saw me sleeping and called the police to report a squatter.
Sitting on the edge of the bed dressed only in underwear, I laughed. The situation was ludicrous and embarrassing. My only mistake had been failing to make sure the apartment door was completely closed before I threw myself into bed the night before.
I told the officers to check my driver's license, nodding toward my khaki pants on the floor. It showed my address at a unit in the same complex. As the fog of their chaotic entry lifted, the officers realized it had been an unfortunate error. They walked me into the living room and removed the cuffs, though two continued to stand over me as the third contacted management to confirm my story. Once they were satisfied, they left.
When I later visited the Fairfax County police station to gather details about what went wrong, I met the shift commander, Lt. Erik Rhoads. I asked why his officers hadn't contacted management before they raided the apartment. Why did they classify the incident as a forced entry, when the information they had suggested something innocuous? Why not evaluate the situation before escalating it?
Rhoads defended the procedure, calling the officers' actions "on point." It's not standard to conduct investigations beforehand because that delays the apprehension of suspects, he told me.
I noted that the officers could have sought information from the apartment complex's security guard that would have resolved the matter without violence. But he played down the importance of such information: "It doesn't matter whatsoever what was said or not said at the security booth."
This is where Rhoads is wrong. We've seen this troubling approach to law enforcement nationwide, in militarized police responses to nonviolent protesters and in fatal police shootings of unarmed citizens. The culture that encourages police officers to engage their weapons before gathering information promotes the mind-set that nothing, including citizen safety, is more important than officers' personal security. That approach has caused public trust in law enforcement to deteriorate.
It's the same culture that characterized the early phases of the Iraq war, in which I served a 15-month tour in 2006 and 2007. Soldiers left their sprawling bases in armored vehicles, leveling buildings with missile strikes and shooting up entire blocks during gun battles with insurgents, only to return to their protected bases and do it all again hours later.
The short-sighted notion that we should always protect ourselves endangered us more in the long term. It was a flawed strategy that could often create more insurgents than it stopped and inspired some Iraqis to hate us rather than help us.
In one instance in Baghdad, a stray round landed in a compound that our unit was building. An overzealous officer decided that we were under attack and ordered machine guns and grenade launchers to shoot at distant rooftops. A row of buildings caught fire, and we left our compound on foot, seeking to capture any injured fighters by entering structures choked with flames.
Instead, we found a man frantically pulling his furniture out of his house. "Thank you for your security!" he yelled in perfect English. He pointed to the billowing smoke. "This is what you call security?"
We didn't find any insurgents. There weren't any. But it was easy to imagine that we forged some in that fire. Similarly, when U.S. police officers use excessive force to control nonviolent citizens or respond to minor incidents, they lose supporters and public trust.
That's a problem, because law enforcement officers need the cooperation of the communities they patrol in order to do their jobs effectively. In the early stages of the war, the U.S. military overlooked that reality as well. Leaders defined success as increasing military hold on geographic terrain, while the human terrain was the real battle. For example, when our platoon entered Iraq's volatile Diyala province in early 2007, children at a school plugged their ears just before an IED exploded beneath one of our vehicles. The kids knew what was coming, but they saw no reason to warn us. Instead, they watched us drive right into the ambush. One of our men died, and in the subsequent crossfire, several insurgents and children were killed. We saw Iraqis cheering and dancing at the blast crater as we left the area hours later.
With the U.S. effort in Iraq faltering, Gen. David Petraeus unveiled a new counterinsurgency strategythat year. He believed that showing more restraint during gunfights would help foster Iraqis' trust in U.S. forces and that forming better relationships with civilians would improve our intelligence-gathering. We refined our warrior mentality — the one that directed us to protect ourselves above all else — with a community-building component.
My unit began to patrol on foot almost exclusively, which was exceptionally more dangerous than staying inside our armored vehicles. We relinquished much of our personal security by entering dimly lit homes in insurgent strongholds. We didn't know if the hand we would shake at each door held a detonator to a suicide vest or a small glass of hot, sugary tea.
But as a result, we better understood our environment and earned the allegiance of some people in it. The benefits quickly became clear. One day during that bloody summer, insurgents loaded a car with hundreds of pounds of explosives and parked it by a school. They knew we searched every building for hidden weapons caches, and they waited for us to gather near the car. But as we turned the corner to head toward the school, several Iraqis told us about the danger. We evacuated civilians from the area and called in a helicopter gunship to fire at the vehicle.
The resulting explosion pulverized half the building and blasted the car's engine block through two cement walls. Shrapnel dropped like jagged hail as far as a quarter-mile away.
If we had not risked our safety by patrolling the neighborhood on foot, trusting our sources and gathering intelligence, it would have been a massacre. But no one was hurt in the blast.
Domestic police forces would benefit from a similar change in strategy. Instead of relying on aggression, they should rely more on relationships. Rather than responding to a squatter call with guns raised, they should knock on the door and extend a hand. But unfortunately, my encounter with officers is just one in a stream of recent examples of police placing their own safety ahead of those they're sworn to serve and protect.
Rhoads, the Fairfax County police lieutenant, was upfront about this mind-set. He explained that it was standard procedure to point guns at suspects in many cases to protect the lives of police officers. Their firearm rules were different from mine; they aimed not to kill but to intimidate. According to reporting by The Washington Post, those rules are established in police training, which often emphasizes a violent response over deescalation. Recruits spend an average of eight hours learning how to neutralize tense situations; they spend more than seven times as many hours at the weapons range.
Of course, officers' safety is vital, and they're entitled to defend themselves and the communities they serve. But they're failing to see the connection between their aggressive postures and the hostility they've encountered in Ferguson, Missouri., Baltimore and other communities. When you level assault rifles at protesters, you create animosity. When you kill an unarmed man on his own property while his hands are raised — as Fairfax County police did in 2013 — you sow distrust. And when you threaten to Taser a woman during a routine traffic stop (as happened to 28-year-old Sandra Bland, who died in a Texas jail this month), you cultivate a fear of police. This makes policing more dangerous for everyone.
I understood the risks of war when I enlisted as an infantryman. Police officers should understand the risks in their jobs when they enroll in the academy, as well. That means knowing that personal safety can't always come first. That is why it's service. That's why it's sacrifice.
Alex Horton is a member of the Defense Council at the Truman National Security Project. He served as an infantryman in Iraq with the Army's 3rd Stryker Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division.
How lucky he is to be white - a black guy could likely have gotten killed under those circumstances.
Cookies Disabled | Sun Journal
I got home from the bar and fell into bed soon after Saturday night bled into Sunday morning. I didn't wake up until three police officers barged into my apartment, barking their presence at my door. They sped down the hallway to my bedroom, their service pistols drawn and leveled at me.
SHARE
E-mail this story Print this story Save this story
MATT MCCLAIN/THE WASHINGTON POST
Alex Horton, 30, in the hallway outside his Alexandria, Va., apartment on July 16. An Iraq War veteran, Horton was recently awoken by a police raid. A resident mistakenly had thought that Horton was an intruder in an unoccupied apartment and called the police.
We've seen this troubling approach to law enforcement nationwide, in militarized police responses to nonviolent protesters and in fatal police shootings of unarmed citizens. The culture that encourages police officers to engage their weapons before gathering information promotes the mind-set that nothing, including citizen safety, is more important than officers' personal security. That approach has caused public trust in law enforcement to deteriorate. -- Iraq veteran Alex Horton
It was just past 9 a.m., and I was still under the covers. The only visible target was my head.
In the shouting and commotion, I felt an instant familiarity. I'd been here before. This was a raid.
I had done this a few dozen times myself, 6,000 miles away from my Alexandria, Virginia, apartment. As an Army infantryman in Iraq, I'd always been on the trigger side of the weapon. Now that I was on the barrel side, I recalled basic training's most important firearm rule: Aim only at something you intend to kill.
I had conducted the same kind of raid on suspected bombmakers and high-value insurgents. But the Fairfax County officers in my apartment were aiming their weapons at a target whose rap sheet consisted only of parking tickets and an overdue library book.
My situation was terrifying. Lying facedown in bed, I knew that any move I made could be viewed as a threat. Instinct told me to get up and protect myself. Training told me that if I did, these officers would shoot me dead.
In a panic, I asked the officers what was going on but got no immediate answer. Their tactics were similar to the ones I used to clear rooms during the height of guerilla warfare in Iraq. I could almost admire it — their fluid sweep from the bedroom doorway to the distant corner. They stayed clear of one another's lines of fire in case they needed to empty their Sig Sauer .40-caliber pistols into me.
They were well-trained, their supervisor later told me. But I knew that means little when adrenaline governs an imminent-danger scenario, real or imagined. Triggers are pulled. Mistakes are made.
I spread my arms out to either side. An officer jumped onto my bed and locked handcuffs onto my wrists. The officers rolled me from side to side, searching my boxers for weapons, then yanked me up to sit on the edge of the bed.
At first, I was stunned. I searched my memory for any incident that would justify a police raid. Then it clicked.
Earlier in the week, the managers of my apartment complex moved me to a model unit while a crew repaired a leak in my dishwasher. But they hadn't informed my temporary neighbors. So when one resident noticed the door slightly cracked open to what he presumed was an unoccupied apartment, he looked in, saw me sleeping and called the police to report a squatter.
Sitting on the edge of the bed dressed only in underwear, I laughed. The situation was ludicrous and embarrassing. My only mistake had been failing to make sure the apartment door was completely closed before I threw myself into bed the night before.
I told the officers to check my driver's license, nodding toward my khaki pants on the floor. It showed my address at a unit in the same complex. As the fog of their chaotic entry lifted, the officers realized it had been an unfortunate error. They walked me into the living room and removed the cuffs, though two continued to stand over me as the third contacted management to confirm my story. Once they were satisfied, they left.
When I later visited the Fairfax County police station to gather details about what went wrong, I met the shift commander, Lt. Erik Rhoads. I asked why his officers hadn't contacted management before they raided the apartment. Why did they classify the incident as a forced entry, when the information they had suggested something innocuous? Why not evaluate the situation before escalating it?
Rhoads defended the procedure, calling the officers' actions "on point." It's not standard to conduct investigations beforehand because that delays the apprehension of suspects, he told me.
I noted that the officers could have sought information from the apartment complex's security guard that would have resolved the matter without violence. But he played down the importance of such information: "It doesn't matter whatsoever what was said or not said at the security booth."
This is where Rhoads is wrong. We've seen this troubling approach to law enforcement nationwide, in militarized police responses to nonviolent protesters and in fatal police shootings of unarmed citizens. The culture that encourages police officers to engage their weapons before gathering information promotes the mind-set that nothing, including citizen safety, is more important than officers' personal security. That approach has caused public trust in law enforcement to deteriorate.
It's the same culture that characterized the early phases of the Iraq war, in which I served a 15-month tour in 2006 and 2007. Soldiers left their sprawling bases in armored vehicles, leveling buildings with missile strikes and shooting up entire blocks during gun battles with insurgents, only to return to their protected bases and do it all again hours later.
The short-sighted notion that we should always protect ourselves endangered us more in the long term. It was a flawed strategy that could often create more insurgents than it stopped and inspired some Iraqis to hate us rather than help us.
In one instance in Baghdad, a stray round landed in a compound that our unit was building. An overzealous officer decided that we were under attack and ordered machine guns and grenade launchers to shoot at distant rooftops. A row of buildings caught fire, and we left our compound on foot, seeking to capture any injured fighters by entering structures choked with flames.
Instead, we found a man frantically pulling his furniture out of his house. "Thank you for your security!" he yelled in perfect English. He pointed to the billowing smoke. "This is what you call security?"
We didn't find any insurgents. There weren't any. But it was easy to imagine that we forged some in that fire. Similarly, when U.S. police officers use excessive force to control nonviolent citizens or respond to minor incidents, they lose supporters and public trust.
That's a problem, because law enforcement officers need the cooperation of the communities they patrol in order to do their jobs effectively. In the early stages of the war, the U.S. military overlooked that reality as well. Leaders defined success as increasing military hold on geographic terrain, while the human terrain was the real battle. For example, when our platoon entered Iraq's volatile Diyala province in early 2007, children at a school plugged their ears just before an IED exploded beneath one of our vehicles. The kids knew what was coming, but they saw no reason to warn us. Instead, they watched us drive right into the ambush. One of our men died, and in the subsequent crossfire, several insurgents and children were killed. We saw Iraqis cheering and dancing at the blast crater as we left the area hours later.
With the U.S. effort in Iraq faltering, Gen. David Petraeus unveiled a new counterinsurgency strategythat year. He believed that showing more restraint during gunfights would help foster Iraqis' trust in U.S. forces and that forming better relationships with civilians would improve our intelligence-gathering. We refined our warrior mentality — the one that directed us to protect ourselves above all else — with a community-building component.
My unit began to patrol on foot almost exclusively, which was exceptionally more dangerous than staying inside our armored vehicles. We relinquished much of our personal security by entering dimly lit homes in insurgent strongholds. We didn't know if the hand we would shake at each door held a detonator to a suicide vest or a small glass of hot, sugary tea.
But as a result, we better understood our environment and earned the allegiance of some people in it. The benefits quickly became clear. One day during that bloody summer, insurgents loaded a car with hundreds of pounds of explosives and parked it by a school. They knew we searched every building for hidden weapons caches, and they waited for us to gather near the car. But as we turned the corner to head toward the school, several Iraqis told us about the danger. We evacuated civilians from the area and called in a helicopter gunship to fire at the vehicle.
The resulting explosion pulverized half the building and blasted the car's engine block through two cement walls. Shrapnel dropped like jagged hail as far as a quarter-mile away.
If we had not risked our safety by patrolling the neighborhood on foot, trusting our sources and gathering intelligence, it would have been a massacre. But no one was hurt in the blast.
Domestic police forces would benefit from a similar change in strategy. Instead of relying on aggression, they should rely more on relationships. Rather than responding to a squatter call with guns raised, they should knock on the door and extend a hand. But unfortunately, my encounter with officers is just one in a stream of recent examples of police placing their own safety ahead of those they're sworn to serve and protect.
Rhoads, the Fairfax County police lieutenant, was upfront about this mind-set. He explained that it was standard procedure to point guns at suspects in many cases to protect the lives of police officers. Their firearm rules were different from mine; they aimed not to kill but to intimidate. According to reporting by The Washington Post, those rules are established in police training, which often emphasizes a violent response over deescalation. Recruits spend an average of eight hours learning how to neutralize tense situations; they spend more than seven times as many hours at the weapons range.
Of course, officers' safety is vital, and they're entitled to defend themselves and the communities they serve. But they're failing to see the connection between their aggressive postures and the hostility they've encountered in Ferguson, Missouri., Baltimore and other communities. When you level assault rifles at protesters, you create animosity. When you kill an unarmed man on his own property while his hands are raised — as Fairfax County police did in 2013 — you sow distrust. And when you threaten to Taser a woman during a routine traffic stop (as happened to 28-year-old Sandra Bland, who died in a Texas jail this month), you cultivate a fear of police. This makes policing more dangerous for everyone.
I understood the risks of war when I enlisted as an infantryman. Police officers should understand the risks in their jobs when they enroll in the academy, as well. That means knowing that personal safety can't always come first. That is why it's service. That's why it's sacrifice.
Alex Horton is a member of the Defense Council at the Truman National Security Project. He served as an infantryman in Iraq with the Army's 3rd Stryker Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division.
How lucky he is to be white - a black guy could likely have gotten killed under those circumstances.
Kelowna RCMP Officer Investigated After Pulling Over Vehicle
The Kelowna RCMP Detachment is investigating whether or not one of their members acted appropriately when they pulled over a vehicle.
In a video posted to Facebook, the unidentified officer sounds upset about a gesture made towards him by someone in the vehicle.
“So what would you like to say to me,” says the officer in the video to the passenger. https://www.kelownanow.com/watercoo...ficer_Investigated_After_Pulling_Over_Vehicle
The Kelowna RCMP Detachment is investigating whether or not one of their members acted appropriately when they pulled over a vehicle.
In a video posted to Facebook, the unidentified officer sounds upset about a gesture made towards him by someone in the vehicle.
“So what would you like to say to me,” says the officer in the video to the passenger. https://www.kelownanow.com/watercoo...ficer_Investigated_After_Pulling_Over_Vehicle
I saw that on the news on the idiot box tonight. Bet he wishes by now he never got started! Of course the rest of the force will be ragging him for weeks to come.
Looks like this thing is growing legs, they are still talking about it on C.B.C. radio this morning. Maybe this mediocre cop is getting a little too much attention. Nobody was killed or maimed!
Back when I was in the Air Force, they had a two-day prep course for people about to be promoted to sergeant. The feature I remember best was a very short lecture from a chief master sergeant. It went like this:
The Air Force is about to grant you considerable power over other people. You are being granted this power for one reason and one reason only: the accomplishment of the mission of the Air Force. Any use of the power you are granted for any purpose other than the accomplishment of the mission of the Air Force is corruption. That means if you have a dirty detail to hand out, and you give it to somebody you don't like, or somebody who annoys you, you are corrupt. It means that if you use your power to hassle somebody who has pissed you off, you are corrupt. So every single time you are about to give an order, you'd better get in the habit of checking yourself to see if you're doing it for the accomplishment of the mission of the Air Force, or if your personal moods or preferences have something to do with it. Because if they do, your superiors will notice, and your career will be short and unhappy.
That was 35 years ago. I remember it to this day.
The Air Force is about to grant you considerable power over other people. You are being granted this power for one reason and one reason only: the accomplishment of the mission of the Air Force. Any use of the power you are granted for any purpose other than the accomplishment of the mission of the Air Force is corruption. That means if you have a dirty detail to hand out, and you give it to somebody you don't like, or somebody who annoys you, you are corrupt. It means that if you use your power to hassle somebody who has pissed you off, you are corrupt. So every single time you are about to give an order, you'd better get in the habit of checking yourself to see if you're doing it for the accomplishment of the mission of the Air Force, or if your personal moods or preferences have something to do with it. Because if they do, your superiors will notice, and your career will be short and unhappy.
That was 35 years ago. I remember it to this day.
I'm not so sure about that, this rCMP officer personifies the attitude that causes the distrust in the Canadian citizens.
He weaves in the somebody else's lane while staring down at his computer and openly admits he's a distracted driver. And then makes the stupidest comment I've ever heard.
It's my job to drive distracted......LOL
If a pedestrian would've been hit, or property damage would've happened is that what he would've said to the investigators.
No he would've made up some other story to deflect the accident on someone else.
It's just the way the RCMP works.
He weaves in the somebody else's lane while staring down at his computer and openly admits he's a distracted driver. And then makes the stupidest comment I've ever heard.
It's my job to drive distracted......LOL
If a pedestrian would've been hit, or property damage would've happened is that what he would've said to the investigators.
No he would've made up some other story to deflect the accident on someone else.
It's just the way the RCMP works.
Former deputy police chief Dave Griffin charged with impaired driving - CBC News - Latest Canada, World, Entertainment and Business News Dave Griffin, former deputy police chief for the City of Summerside, P.E.I., has been charged with impaired driving.
Former Summerside deputy police chief and MADD West Prince chapter president Dave Griffin has been charged with impaired driving. (CBC)
Court documents in Summerside allege on June 5 police found Griffin driving in the city with a blood alcohol level above the legal limit.
Charges were laid on July 31.
Griffin was serving as the president of the West Prince chapter of MADD at the time of the incident, and according to the organization, has since resigned.
MADD national CEO Andrew Murie told CBC News, if true, the incident is sad for both the organization and for Griffin.
"David was a very good volunteer for us," said Murie.
"He did everything we ask of a volunteer and more."
Murie said in his 18 years as MADD CEO he has never had to deal with an incident like this.
Griffin retired from the Summerside police force in 2011 after 40 years of service.
Griffin has not entered a plea on the charge. His next court date is August 27, in Summerside.
CBC has not been able to reach Griffin for comment.
Court documents in Summerside allege on June 5 police found Griffin driving in the city with a blood alcohol level above the legal limit.
Charges were laid on July 31.
Griffin was serving as the president of the West Prince chapter of MADD at the time of the incident, and according to the organization, has since resigned.
MADD national CEO Andrew Murie told CBC News, if true, the incident is sad for both the organization and for Griffin.
"David was a very good volunteer for us," said Murie.
"He did everything we ask of a volunteer and more."
Murie said in his 18 years as MADD CEO he has never had to deal with an incident like this.
Griffin retired from the Summerside police force in 2011 after 40 years of service.
Griffin has not entered a plea on the charge. His next court date is August 27, in Summerside.
CBC has not been able to reach Griffin for comment.
A white Alabama police officer was caught on a secret recording discussing ways to kill a black man and cover it up, it was revealed Tuesday.
The 2013 incident was quietly settled out of court and ended with the officer keeping his job, according to legal documents and interviews with lawyers and officials involved in the case.
The recording, first reported by the Guardian and obtained by NBC News, captures Alexander City Officer Troy Middlebrooks during a May 2013 visit to a home where the suspect, Vincent Bias, was visiting relatives.
At one point, the officer pulls Bias' brother-in-law — who is white — aside and tells him he doesn't trust Bias. Middlebrooks had arrested Bias on drug charges weeks earlier, and seemed to be frustrated that he had made bail.
Middlebrooks tells Bias' brother-in-law, that if he were the suspect's relative, he would "f---ing kill that motherf------" and then arrange the crime scene to "make it look like he was trying to f---ing kill me."
At another point, Middlebrooks tells the brother-in-law that Bias "needs a g--d--- bullet."
The audio was posted on Soundcloud by the Guardian (contains vulgar language).
A month after that incident, Bias' lawyers told the city they intended to sue the city of 14,875 people for $600,000. They drafted a lawsuit that accused Alexander City police of harassing him, and included the contention that Middlebrooks also called Bias the N-word.
Bias' legal notice was passed to the city's insurance company, which arranged a settlement of far smaller amount: $35,000, according to Alexander City's attorney, Larkin Radney.
With that agreement, Bias never sued.
Bias lawyer Eric Hutchins has called for a state and federal investigation.
Middlebrooks, meanwhile, remains on the job. He could not be reached by NBC News for comment.
Alexander City Mayor Charles Shaw and Police Chief Willie Robinson did not respond to calls seeking comment.
Chief Robinson, who is black, told the Guardian that Middlebrooks was disciplined, but he declined the paper's request for details.
Robinson defended Middlebrooks, saying, "He was just talking. He didn't really mean that."
Alabama Man Says Cop Threatened Him With Murder - NBC News
The 2013 incident was quietly settled out of court and ended with the officer keeping his job, according to legal documents and interviews with lawyers and officials involved in the case.
The recording, first reported by the Guardian and obtained by NBC News, captures Alexander City Officer Troy Middlebrooks during a May 2013 visit to a home where the suspect, Vincent Bias, was visiting relatives.
At one point, the officer pulls Bias' brother-in-law — who is white — aside and tells him he doesn't trust Bias. Middlebrooks had arrested Bias on drug charges weeks earlier, and seemed to be frustrated that he had made bail.
Middlebrooks tells Bias' brother-in-law, that if he were the suspect's relative, he would "f---ing kill that motherf------" and then arrange the crime scene to "make it look like he was trying to f---ing kill me."
At another point, Middlebrooks tells the brother-in-law that Bias "needs a g--d--- bullet."
The audio was posted on Soundcloud by the Guardian (contains vulgar language).
A month after that incident, Bias' lawyers told the city they intended to sue the city of 14,875 people for $600,000. They drafted a lawsuit that accused Alexander City police of harassing him, and included the contention that Middlebrooks also called Bias the N-word.
Bias' legal notice was passed to the city's insurance company, which arranged a settlement of far smaller amount: $35,000, according to Alexander City's attorney, Larkin Radney.
With that agreement, Bias never sued.
Bias lawyer Eric Hutchins has called for a state and federal investigation.
Middlebrooks, meanwhile, remains on the job. He could not be reached by NBC News for comment.
Alexander City Mayor Charles Shaw and Police Chief Willie Robinson did not respond to calls seeking comment.
Chief Robinson, who is black, told the Guardian that Middlebrooks was disciplined, but he declined the paper's request for details.
Robinson defended Middlebrooks, saying, "He was just talking. He didn't really mean that."
Alabama Man Says Cop Threatened Him With Murder - NBC News
What Happens When Cops Kill K9s? Not Much. What Happens When Cops Kill K9s? Not Much. - The Daily Beast
Five K9s have died in hot cars this summer, but their handlers receive little more than a paid vacation as punishment.
If you or I, assuming you’re not a member of the law enforcement community, were to leave our faithful family dog locked in hot car while we went into our houses, had a family dinner, and slept, only to find Fifo dead from the overwhelming summer heat hours later—we could face between one and five years in prison and be fined tens of thousands of dollars.
The public outcry could also ruin our lives, and, potentially, our careers. Who wants to employ someone who can’t even remember to let man’s best friend out of the car?
Police departments, apparently.
In early July, Baston, a seven-year-old German Shepherd and proud member of the Savannah State University police department, died after being forgotten in just such a manner. Reportedly left in a sweltering police car while his human partner brought food into his family and, his belly full, fell asleep.
Several hours later he remembered poor Baston, but it was too late. The windows were rolled up, and the engine was off. Attempts to resuscitate the overheated pup with an ice bath proved unsuccessful.
Ironically, Baston was “awarded” a bullet and stab proof vest for protection just months before his death, and the state of Georgia enacted a new law making it a felony to harm a police dog, at least if you’re a civilian.
Too bad the vest didn’t come with an air conditioner, or, better, a competent handler.
Repeated attempts by The Daily Beast to reach the Savannah State University PD requesting comment on the status of Baston’s handler have been met with weeks of silence or deflections, with calls being routed to various department voicemails, none of whom ever called back.
That was not an isolated response.
Last May in Hialeah, Florida, Officer Nelson Enriquez was suspended with pay after his K9 partners—Hector, a 4-year-old Belgian Malinois, and Jimmy, a 7-year-old bloodhound—both died when he forgot them overnight in his vehicle. Repeated calls to the Hialeah police department regarding the incident resulted in this reporter being stonewalled or transferred to another extension, at which point the call would be dropped.
Miami has a history of K9 abuse issues. In 2007, Sgt. Allen Cockfield killed his German Shepherd partner by kicking it. Then, in 2008, Officer Rondal Brown let his bloodhound starve to death. Both were charged with animal cruelty, but an expert familiar with the case speculated to the Miami Herald it would be “unusual” for Enriquez to face charges.
“I can’t comment on an ongoing case,” Paul Stalcup, Rockdale County Assistant District Attorney, said when reached by The Daily Beast. “But there certainly have been no formal charges drawn as of yet.”
Repeated calls to the Conyers Police Department were unreturned.
Sad. Horrific, even. And there’s more.
In Gulf Shores, Alabama, Mason, the Gulf Shores PD’s community relations dog also succumbed to the heat when forgotten in a hot car by his human partner, Corporal Josh Coleman. After finally noticing that Mason wasn’t where he should be, Coleman discovered the dog in bad shape inside his oven-like patrol car and rushed him to a vet.
After a protracted fight for his life, Mason succumbed to respiratory failure.
The Baldwin County District Attorney’s Office decided not to bring any charges against Coleman, whose car wasn’t outfitted with the special heat alarms normal K9 cars have. Coleman is still on the force, and faced “internal sanctions,” though—despite repeated calls to Gulf Shores PD—what those may be could not be determined.
In contrast, 16-year-old Ivins Rosier was sentenced to 23 years in prison for killing a retired police dog during a burglary, a crime he committed when he was 16. Of course, Rosier isn’t a cop, he’s a young black man in the South.
And while negligent homicide, or even animal cruelty via negligence, is far different than intentionally firing a gun into an attacking dog, officers were still given the equivalent of a paid vacation to think about what they’d done. And the thin blue line has appeared to prevent press access to whatever “internal sanctions” they may be facing.
What does this lack of cooperation say about the state of our police? More frighteningly, what does it say that the people who are tasked with protecting and serving our public can’t even take care of their own animal partners?
Nothing good.
Five K9s have died in hot cars this summer, but their handlers receive little more than a paid vacation as punishment.
If you or I, assuming you’re not a member of the law enforcement community, were to leave our faithful family dog locked in hot car while we went into our houses, had a family dinner, and slept, only to find Fifo dead from the overwhelming summer heat hours later—we could face between one and five years in prison and be fined tens of thousands of dollars.
The public outcry could also ruin our lives, and, potentially, our careers. Who wants to employ someone who can’t even remember to let man’s best friend out of the car?
Police departments, apparently.
In early July, Baston, a seven-year-old German Shepherd and proud member of the Savannah State University police department, died after being forgotten in just such a manner. Reportedly left in a sweltering police car while his human partner brought food into his family and, his belly full, fell asleep.
Several hours later he remembered poor Baston, but it was too late. The windows were rolled up, and the engine was off. Attempts to resuscitate the overheated pup with an ice bath proved unsuccessful.
Ironically, Baston was “awarded” a bullet and stab proof vest for protection just months before his death, and the state of Georgia enacted a new law making it a felony to harm a police dog, at least if you’re a civilian.
Too bad the vest didn’t come with an air conditioner, or, better, a competent handler.
Repeated attempts by The Daily Beast to reach the Savannah State University PD requesting comment on the status of Baston’s handler have been met with weeks of silence or deflections, with calls being routed to various department voicemails, none of whom ever called back.
That was not an isolated response.
Last May in Hialeah, Florida, Officer Nelson Enriquez was suspended with pay after his K9 partners—Hector, a 4-year-old Belgian Malinois, and Jimmy, a 7-year-old bloodhound—both died when he forgot them overnight in his vehicle. Repeated calls to the Hialeah police department regarding the incident resulted in this reporter being stonewalled or transferred to another extension, at which point the call would be dropped.
Miami has a history of K9 abuse issues. In 2007, Sgt. Allen Cockfield killed his German Shepherd partner by kicking it. Then, in 2008, Officer Rondal Brown let his bloodhound starve to death. Both were charged with animal cruelty, but an expert familiar with the case speculated to the Miami Herald it would be “unusual” for Enriquez to face charges.
Baston was “awarded” a bullet and stab proof vest for protection just months before his death, and the state of Georgia enacted a new law making it a felony to harm a police dog, at least if you’re a civilian.
Last month in Conyers, Georgia, Zane, a five-year-old bloodhound and tracking K9 for the Conyers Police Department, died when forgotten by his handler overnight in a sealed up police vehicle while temperatures were reportedly in the 90s. The handler, Corporal Jerahmy Williams, was suspended with pay while an investigation was conducted, and there was talk initially about disciplinary action, although so far none is imminent.
“I can’t comment on an ongoing case,” Paul Stalcup, Rockdale County Assistant District Attorney, said when reached by The Daily Beast. “But there certainly have been no formal charges drawn as of yet.”
Repeated calls to the Conyers Police Department were unreturned.
Sad. Horrific, even. And there’s more.
In Gulf Shores, Alabama, Mason, the Gulf Shores PD’s community relations dog also succumbed to the heat when forgotten in a hot car by his human partner, Corporal Josh Coleman. After finally noticing that Mason wasn’t where he should be, Coleman discovered the dog in bad shape inside his oven-like patrol car and rushed him to a vet.
After a protracted fight for his life, Mason succumbed to respiratory failure.
The Baldwin County District Attorney’s Office decided not to bring any charges against Coleman, whose car wasn’t outfitted with the special heat alarms normal K9 cars have. Coleman is still on the force, and faced “internal sanctions,” though—despite repeated calls to Gulf Shores PD—what those may be could not be determined.
In contrast, 16-year-old Ivins Rosier was sentenced to 23 years in prison for killing a retired police dog during a burglary, a crime he committed when he was 16. Of course, Rosier isn’t a cop, he’s a young black man in the South.
And while negligent homicide, or even animal cruelty via negligence, is far different than intentionally firing a gun into an attacking dog, officers were still given the equivalent of a paid vacation to think about what they’d done. And the thin blue line has appeared to prevent press access to whatever “internal sanctions” they may be facing.
What does this lack of cooperation say about the state of our police? More frighteningly, what does it say that the people who are tasked with protecting and serving our public can’t even take care of their own animal partners?
Nothing good.
Both are a little extreme, the cop should probably have served 6 months, the robber 10 years. One was accidental the other premeditated. Unfortunately stupidity is not a crime.
Waltard's problem is that his alleged mind is incapable of conceiving that their might be wrong going both ways.
It's because he thinks in cartoons. He thinks if he can prove one stereotyped "side" has done something wrong, that makes the other stereotyped side (his) 100% good, every single one of them.
Hence the nickname Waltard.
It's because he thinks in cartoons. He thinks if he can prove one stereotyped "side" has done something wrong, that makes the other stereotyped side (his) 100% good, every single one of them.
Hence the nickname Waltard.