Before Smart Phones, Racist American Cops Were Just As Prevalent
In the early 1990s, I went to a keg party with my girlfriend, who had a part-time job as a waitress at Olive Garden. “We always hang out with your friends, can we go to my work party?” She was right: how could I say no? I had never met anyone there, so I stayed on the porch, near the music and the keg. I struck up a conversation with a guy (who happened to be African-American) and started having fun.
Then, the police arrived: one of the neighbours had complained about the noise. They were extremely aggressive and openly racist towards the guy I was with, calling him “boy”, pushing him, threatening arrest. Then, they left. My new friend was visibly upset, and crying uncontrollably. He was a middle class suburban college student who had never been treated that way in his life, and he was shocked. “It’s not their fault that they’re bigots,” I said, consolingly. “Their parents obviously didn’t raise them right.”
SURPRISE. They were hiding nearby and heard me. We were immediately hand cuffed and sat down on the lawn. The homeowner (party thrower and birthday boy, as I later found out) came out and demanded why we were being arrested (a fair question; it turned out to be “disturbing the peace”). As it happened, this man was also African-American.
It was almost instantaneous: they grabbed for him, he twisted his arm. I blinked and he was on the ground, also cuffed. I blinked again and seven large cops were beating him with flashlights. They knocked several of his teeth out, broke his arm, several of his ribs and closed his right eye. I was certain that I would be next, and considered trying to run (that would have been insane). It all happened very quickly: soon we were in a cell together.
He was not given medical attention: he was beaten again and again (they turned me to the wall so that I could not be a visual witness to the felony assault they committed in the cell). Once they figured out who I was (my father was a well-known and well-loved journalist, they tried to let me go. “Why were you hanging around with these n*****s?” they asked me. Speechless, I told them to put me back in the cell, and wouldn’t leave until we were all three arraigned. They lied to the judge, and didn’t call for medical attention until the judge forced them to.
Months later, I represented us in court because the public defender we were offered was just as racist as the cops who nearly beat a man to death in my presence. The case was thrown out of court, and the police got a slap on the wrists.
This shit has been going on since the first African person landed in America: we all just have video cameras now.
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